The Final Reckoning
by LavenderBrown
Summary: COMPLETE. Sequel to "The Book of Morgan Le Fey"; seventh year for The Trio; Ron is learning to use his new powers, and Harry gets a second chance at love...but Voldemort still looms...
1. Chapter One: The Unfairness of Being Har

**The Final Reckoning**

_Author's Note: This is the sequel to **The Book of Morgan Le Fey**. I highly recommend you read that story first before reading this one, as this story contains many plot elements from that story. This story also contains spoilers for all the canon books. _

_Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione are heading for their final year at Hogwarts. As Ron struggles to come to terms with his extrasensory abilities and he and Hermione try to help Harry come up with a way to defeat Voldemort, Harry gets a second chance at happiness. But the girl in Harry's life makes the perfect target for Voldemort, and she may be special in more ways than one. Rated R for language, violence and sexual content. _

_Of course, the world of Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. _

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_Chapter One: The Unfairness of Being Harry_

Ron Weasley sat at his desk with a quill in his right hand, poised over the blank page of a hardcover book. He stared out the window longingly. It was one of those rare, perfect summer days: not too hot, sun shining, the sky a brilliant, nearly opalescent blue, a few cheerful, puffy clouds dotting the horizon.

It was two days since returning home from school. Two whole days, that had felt like two months. If he'd known this was how it was going to be, being home for the holiday, he would have stayed at Hogwarts for the summer.

Because Ron was a virtual prisoner in the family house. He and his younger sister Ginny had not been able to venture ten feet outside the house since returning home. Dumbledore's orders, their mother had snapped, when they'd both protested loudly at not being able to practice Quidditch. Dumbledore had to make sure all the new wards were in place, but it would take a few days, at least, for that to happen. And a few days after that to test them. Only then could Ron and Ginny get outdoors and enjoy their time off from school.

Until then, they were confined to the house, and the only time they were allowed outside was to help degnome the garden.

Ron thought about Dumbledore and scowled. He'd never had anything but respect for the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The old wizard--he had to be 150 by now--was considered by most to be the wisest, most powerful wizard alive. Indeed, he was the only wizard the Dark Lord Voldemort had ever feared. 

But now Ron felt nothing but powerful resentment for Dumbledore. For making him a prisoner in his house. For telling him...

'I want you to explore the possibility,' Dumbledore had said.

You might be a Seer, he'd said. And if you are a Seer, your gift could help Harry.

The very idea still struck Ron as at least mildly ridiculous. Him, Ron Weasley, average in every way Ron Weasley, a Seer? 

Dumbledore had asked Ron to keep a dream diary, and he'd done it. Ron had taken out his old dream diary--the one he'd used to record made-up dreams in for Divination classes with that bat Trelawney--and the morning after Dumbledore's news, and for the past few weeks now, Ron had begun to record his dreams. 

He'd had a dream about forgetting to study for his N.E.W.T.s. He'd had a dream where he'd walked about Hogwarts castle completely naked, attending lessons in the altogether as if it were completely normal but having no idea why people were sniggering at him and pointing. He'd had a dream about Snape dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes and singing Happy Birthday to Dobby, the house elf. He'd had a dream about Harry dressed as a knight, on the back of a huge white horse and alone on a massive chessboard, just like the one Ron had seen back in their first year, when they were trying to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. He'd had a dream of a gleaming silver-bladed sword floating through the air; the sword had a gold handle encrusted with huge red stones, and the blade itself was coated in blood. 

He'd dreamt of his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Many times. More often than not she was in some state of undress; more often than not they were having sex, or about to have sex, or entwined in one another after just having had sex.

He'd dreamt of Antonin Dolohov. The Death Eater he had killed less than a month before, in the fracas at the Riddle House. Dolohov had poisoned Hermione, nearly killing her. He went after Ron, and they had fought, and just as the Death Eater gained the upper hand, and was about to use the Killing Curse, Ron struck him with a Cutting Charm across the throat. He could still hear the slash of the spell as it split open the Death Eater's jugular vein, could still hear Dolohov gurgling as his throat and his mouth filled with blood, could still hear the thud as Dolohov toppled, dead even before he hit the floor.

Ron shuddered. He hated that dream. No matter how justified he'd been, he couldn't quite get over the fact that he'd taken a life. He'd killed someone, and he was only seventeen.

'Bugger,' he muttered, and he tore his eyes away from the beckoning blue sky and looked down at his journal. He had to focus. None of the dreams he'd had so far seemed to be remotely significant--at least in terms of being helpful to Harry. But he'd dreamed of something last night, and when he woke up he knew it was important.

He'd dreamed of the sword again. Only this time, he'd dreamed of the sword in someone's hand.

Who that someone was, Ron had no idea, but whoever it was, was a man. He was relatively young--no more than thirty-five perhaps. He wore dark velvet robes, so dark that they could have been black, or blue, or green, or brown. The clothing beneath...

Ron closed his eyes, trying to remember. It hadn't been modern clothing at all. Leggings, and boots--medieval looking. And some kind of vest, a leather vest--a deep red leather vest, with a kind of gold crest on it. The man's face...Ron couldn't really picture the man's face, but his eyes...they were green.

The man held the sword in front of his body, two handed, wielding it as if in battle. And there was noise. A strange, hissing noise...it could have been a snake making that sound, or steam could have been pouring out of a cauldron...Ron couldn't remember. He just remembered the sound of hissing. And the man holding the sword. And that was all.

Not even a dream, really, Ron thought. More like...he shuddered again to think of it...a vision.

Ron had had those, too. Ever since last year, after that brain attack at the Department of Mysteries. The brain that had unfurled and wrapped round his arms, scarring his flesh and his mind and unlocking...something within him. The visions had been frightening, and numerous, the previous summer, but he hadn't told anyone about it. He forgot about them once he, Harry and Hermione had gone back to school for their sixth year; the visions had tapered off completely by then.

But that night at the Riddle House...the vision returned, and it was only when he saw Bellatrix Lestrange plummet to her death, pinioned beneath a massive crystal chandelier, that he realized the vision he'd been seeing throughout the summer previous was a vision of her death. 

He hadn't had a vision since that night, and he had no desire to ever have one again. The visions were more terrifying than the dreams. At least the dreams happened when you slept. Visions came in the waking hours.

'Focus,' he said aloud, and he returned to his diary and read over the entry, trying to remember if he'd missed something. The sword, held by a youngish medieval man with green eyes, wearing a deep red leather vest with a gold crest.

Ron dipped his quill into his inkpot and wrote a small note in the margin:

'Family crest?'

Look over your entries, Dumbledore had said, and look for patterns or recurring themes.

Ron flipped through his diary, pausing long enough to skim each entry. So far, he counted only a few recurring themes: 

Sex (the dreams featuring Hermione); death (the dreams featuring Dolohov); and that sword.

How could a sword be a theme?

Ron turned back to his most recent entry and wrote, 'Medieval theme?' Then he wrote 'Is sword real?' 

And then another thing occurred to Ron. How, in his first year, when they'd gone after the Philosopher's Stone, he'd taken up the position of knight on that giant chessboard. Maybe he was just dreaming about some random guy done up like a knight because of that? Ron put quill to page and wrote 'Chess connection?'

He stared at the page again, and it suddenly seemed absurd, and he scowled once more, and gave a low, frustrated growl. He slammed the diary shut, and stood up abruptly from the desk. If he didn't get outside soon--and not just to degnome the bloody garden--he'd go stark raving mad.

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Last year he'd had prescient dreams. He hadn't realized it at the time, but in hindsight, some of his dreams had indeed come true in real life. They had been a kind of vision of the future.

But since that night in Dumbledore's office, Ron couldn't imagine how any of his dreams could possibly be visions of the future. Well, perhaps the sex dreams could be. 

Or at least Ron hoped they could be. He'd only had sex with Hermione for the first...and second and third times a few nights ago, on their last night of school before the holidays. He'd wanted to be with her like that since the day they first kissed, on the boys' staircase in Gryffindor tower--perhaps even before that. But he loved Hermione, and more than wanting her, he wanted her to want him, and not just give in to him because he was pressuring her into it. It had taken no small amount of self-control on his part, but he'd been a gentleman about the physical stuff. It was with copious amounts of joy that he greeted Hermione's news that she was ready to make love with him.

He'd thought that finally having sex with his girlfriend would ease the six months of sexual frustration that his gentlemanly behavior and Hermione's reticence had caused. Instead, it only made Ron want sex more.

Not just sex, he thought at once. No, that wasn't it. It was the closeness, too. Having Hermione all wrapped up around him and fitting up against him so perfectly like she did. He smiled, without thinking. He tended to do that, when he thought about her.

She was the same girl he'd always known: bossy, stubborn, fussy, brilliant, driven, loyal, protective, nurturing, maddening. But she wasn't. She was his girl. She drove him crazy, with her out-of-control hair that he loved to bury his hands in, and the way she looked when she had her nose buried in a book and her expression was serious as her eyes danced over the words on the page, and the way her cheeks flushed when she was embarrassed, or angry, or after they'd kissed long and hard. There were things she said, and did, and a certain way she smiled, that were just for him, and it made him go weak in the knees and set his heart pounding. He still couldn't quite believe that she wanted him. He was, after all, Just Ron. But Hermione Granger loved him, and that made him feel like the greatest man on earth.

Two days away from her, and he could hardly stand it. 

But the other dreams, Ron thought, yanking his mind away from Hermione and sex and back to reality. None of them seem to predict anything. He'd gotten pretty good at seeing the subtext of his dreams, but he just couldn't tell if any of the weirder ones were supposed to signify something that might be germane to Harry's problem.

That little problem of having to kill, or be killed, by Lord Voldemort.

Ron looked out the window again and felt a pang. Not just for himself and his sister Ginny, trapped indoors on a day like this. But for Harry, forced yet again to endure the company of his horrible relatives, Muggles who hated anything to do with magic and who treated him like something lower than dirt.

At least you're not stuck in Harry's boat, Ron thought, and then that familiar guilt spread inside him. Guilt at bemoaning his own lot when Harry had it so much worse. Had ALWAYS had it so much worse.

For Ron might be stuck inside, tired and cranky and sexually frustrated. But Harry was stuck in Surrey, with hateful relatives, having just been dumped by HIS girlfriend for no good reason and wondering just whether he'd survive his next encounter with the most evil wizard who'd ever lived.

Ron rubbed his tired eyes and stood up, just as a knock sounded on his door.

'Come in,' he called.

'Hey,' said a female voice behind him, as his door creaked open.

It was Ginny.

'Hey,' said Ron, not bothering to hide his sullen tone.

'Mum says we have to start degnoming the garden again in an hour,' Ginny announced, looking disgruntled.

'Lovely,' said Ron. 'Give me a few minutes, Gin, and I'll be jumping up and down about it.'

'Don't take it out on me, I'm just relaying the message--' she began hotly.

'Sorry, sorry,' he said, holding up his hands. 'Sorry.' He meant it, and he looked at his younger sister. She was dressed, her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked healthy as always. But Ron couldn't help studying her, for some sign...of Voldemort...he'd threatened her, in the Riddle House...he could have come back...

'Ron, quit studying me,' said Ginny, putting her hands on her hips. 'I'm fine, okay? I'm not being possessed.'

'Was I that obvious?' said Ron, looking down at his big feet.

'Trust me, big brother,' said Ginny, and her lips curled into an affectionate smile. 'Subtlety is not in your vocabulary.'

'Sorry,' Ron said again. 'I guess I just...you're sure you're okay?'

Ginny pursed her lips; she looked as though she was trying to keep from biting Ron's head off. 'Yes,' she said firmly, after taking a deep breath.

'Okay,' said Ron, nodding. He turned and headed for his tiny closet, to pull out something to wear for the day's chores; he thought Ginny would leave, but after a moment of rifling through an unkempt pile of clothes on the closet shelf, he felt her gaze on his back.

'What?' he said, turning to face her.

'Thanks,' she said, looking at him, then at her feet. 'For...for asking. I know you're just trying to look out for me.'

'Ginny...' he began. He'd been trying to get her to talk to him, even for a few minutes, about everything. But she always pushed him away.

'I don't want to talk about it, Ron,' she said. 'I'm dealing with it.'

'Okay,' Ron said again, at once. And the subject died. 

'See you downstairs,' said Ginny, and she left the room. He watched her go, wanting to believe her, wanting to believe that she was dealing with 'it.' But he simply wasn't sure. And Ginny was good at hiding her feelings, at bluffing. At lying. She didn't take after Fred and George for nothing.

Ron sighed and began to dress, and his stomach rumbled. At least his appetite was still normal, meaning that it was huge. Mum could be a right taskmaster about chores, but she did feed her family well. Degnoming wasn't quite so bad on a full stomach.

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'One, two, THREE!'  Ginny whipped her arm round and hurled another gnome past the fence.

'Nice one,' Ron said, grinning. 'At least you'll keep your arm in good shape.'

'Yeah, right,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes, but she grinned. Ginny played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and though Ron might be a bit biased, he thought she was one of the best Chasers he'd ever seen. The lack of Quidditch practice was grating on them both. They were good enough flyers but they didn't have Harry's talent; Harry could go for months without a fly and then get up on his broom as though he hadn't missed a day. Ron and Ginny had to work at it.

Ron's eyes scanned the soil and spotted another gnome. He grabbed it quickly, and the gnome began to squeal.

'Got another one,' Ron announced as he tossed it out of the garden. 

'Me, too,' said Ginny, and another gnome went flying.

An hour later they were both filthy and coated in sweat. 

'Bloody hell,' Ginny swore. 'Is it just me, or are there a lot more of them this year?'

'That,' said Ron grumpily, 'and there's only two of us left to do this.'

'Must have been shagging like mad over the winter,' said Ginny as she lunged for another gnome. 'Reproduced like rabbits, didn't they?'

'Rabbits don't talk...back...' Ron grunted, picking up yet another struggling gnome, 'when you kick them off the lawn.'

And on it went. 

At around noon, Ron heard a loud crack coming from inside the house; he looked up to see the red-haired, slightly plump form of his mother, looking frazzled.

'Mum's back,' he said. 'She looks like she's in a strop.'

'When doesn't she?' said Ginny.

'Good point,' said Ron. 'Let's take a break, anyway, we deserve it.'

'Thank god,' said Ginny, wiping sweat from her brow. She stood up and stretched her back, and the siblings started toward the house.

'Hey, Mum,' said Ron, as they entered the house. 

'Hello, dear,' she said, and she went into the pantry and pulled out a magically cooled pitcher of lemonade and some glasses. Her voice was tight and she looked fit to burst.

'What's up, Mum?' said Ginny, with no small amount of trepidation in her voice.

Ron counted to three under his breath, and Mrs. Weasley exploded.

'Oh, this RIDICULOUS trial!' she seethed.

'Trial--' Ginny began.

'Lucius Malfoy, of course!' Mrs. Weasley shouted. 'The Ministry is building their case against him. Which means the Wizengamot is drawing up more raid warrants for the ten or twenty or however many there are houses the Malfoys own! Which means your father has to go on raids every night this week!'

Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. There was generally only one way to deal with Mrs. Weasley when she was in a temper. Keep quiet and let it all blow over.

'They already KNOW they're not going to find anything,' Mrs. Weasley raged. 'Lucius Malfoy's no fool, he'll have covered his tracks, for heaven's sake! The only evidence they've got is witness testimony, and they KNOW it! But NO, they have to send Arthur out on raid after pointless raid. Never mind that he hasn't slept a night at home in weeks and has to camp out at the dreadful place...'

'That dreadful place' was, no doubt, the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and Ron thoroughly agreed with his mother's assessment of the place. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

'What's the point of raids, then, anyway?' Mrs. Weasley went on, and she was pacing now. It was never a good sign when she paced, because it meant whoever was listening to her ranting was in it for a while. 'They don't just have Draco Malfoy's testimony anymore. They've got Harry's now, as well--'

'WHAT?' Ron interrupted.

'What do you mean, they've got Harry's testimony?' Ginny demanded.

Mrs. Weasley stopped pacing and looked at her two youngest children.

'I mean,' she said slowly, in that voice she used when she was trying not to blow up completely, 'that the Wizengamot drew up a subpoena for Harry to appear in court at Lucius Malfoy's trial. He's being ordered to testify.'

'No!' Ron shouted.

'They can't do that!' said Ginny indignantly.

'Bloody hell--' Ron began.

'Language, Ron!' Mrs. Weasley snapped, but Ron went of as if he hadn't heard her.

'--after everything Harry's had to put up with now he has to go to bloody court and testify?'

'What's Madam Bones on about?' said Ginny.

'It's not her decision,' said Mrs. Weasley tightly.

'Of course it's her bloody decision, she's the Minister of Magic!' Ron bellowed.

'Lower your voice, Ron!' Mrs. Weasley shouted, and then she seemed to realize that she was shouting, and lowered her voice. 'Listen to me, both of you. Madam Bones has done a fine job, considering all she's had to deal with. But there's tremendous pressure on the Ministry to convict Malfoy. The Chief Prosecutor wants Harry on the stand, and Madam Bones isn't going to refuse him if it means putting another nail in Malfoy's proverbial coffin.'

'It's not right,' said Ron bitterly. 'Two days, Mum. We've been home two days. And Harry has this to deal with.'

'I know,' said Mrs. Weasley, shaking her head, and her eyes filled with tears. 'That boy has had more grief thrown at him than any decent human being ever deserved.'

'It's not fair! Why Harry?' said Ginny, her voice still hot with anger. 'The rest of us were there, at the Riddle House. We all saw Lucius Malfoy. Why don't we testify?'

Ron took up the theme. 'Yeah, why not us? Me, Ginny, Bill, Hermione, they could probably get Luna and Neville to--'

'It's Harry they want,' said Mrs. Weasley sadly. 'It's not just the Riddle House. The court wants a full accounting of the night...You-Know-Who came back. They want the whole story about the Department of Mysteries. They want to know what part Lucius played in all of that. They can get the whole story from Harry.'

Ginny looked stricken at this news, and Ron ran a hand through his hair.

'Shit,' he muttered, and for once, his mother didn't correct him. 'They're going to make him talk about that night. He hasn't even talked to us.'

'And...and the press,' said Ginny, sounding fretful. 'My god, they'll make such a circus out of this. "The Boy Who Lived Tells All". It'll be horrible for Harry!'

'I know,' Mrs. Weasley said again, and a tear slipped down her cheek. 

'Does he know yet?' Ron asked.

'They're owling him tomorrow,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'I can't believe...' Her voice trailed off, and she wiped away the tear and turned away from Ron and Ginny.

'I can't stay long,' she said, her tone suddenly brisk. 'I have to get back to Headquarters and speak with Minerva about the wards.' She picked up a bag and began to dig into it.

'I've got some sandwiches and things for you,' Mrs. Weasley went on, setting out piles of wrapped sandwiches on the kitchen table. 'Make sure you eat up, and clean up when you're finished. I'll be back in time to make dinner. The wards should be ready in two more days and you two will able to practice your Quidditch.'

'Thanks, Mum,' Ron and Ginny both mumbled. 

Ron looked down miserably at his shoes. Only a few hours ago he was moping about being stuck in the house. Now the only thing he could think of was Harry, on a witness stand, in a room full of people, being forced to relive the night Cedric Diggory was murdered...to relive the night at the Department of Mysteries...to relive what had happened in the Riddle House. Harry would get the...whatever the official document was called, by post tomorrow. Somehow, Quidditch didn't seem so important right then.

Mrs. Weasley hugged Ginny and Ron both tightly, took a few steps, and Disapparated with a loud crack.

Ron and Ginny both looked at one another at the same time, then at the sandwiches, then back at one another.

'I'm suddenly...not very hungry,' said Ginny.

'Me, neither,' said Ron. 

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**A/N: I'm back! Here is the beginning of the promised sequel. Thanks to all my faithful readers--I'm still getting reviews for my stories, which is wonderful. **

**A few words on this story.**** First and foremost, I regret that I cannot promise the rapid-fire updates that so many of you have become accustomed to. My life if very hectic right now, and there is only so much time for me to devote to fanfic writing. Second, the plot for this story is still up in the air. With _Book of Morgan Le Fey I pretty much had a basic idea of things right from the start; with this one, things are coming in drips and drabs. I have a beginning and an ending and now I have to come up with a good meaty middle section, and that could take some time, so please bear with me. Third, this story is not going to be told strictly from Ron's perspective. I wish it could be that way, but as this is a seventh-year/final battle story, Harry's perspective has to be included. So you'll be hearing from both of The Guys, and depending on how things go I could include Hermione and/or Ginny perspectives, too. It just depends on whether I feel it would benefit the story (and whether I want to take on the tremendous challenge of writing from the eyes of four characters instead of two). Fourth, I'll reiterate that if you haven't read _Book of Morgan Le Fey_, I recommend that you do so. I don't plan on spending a great deal of time rehashing the events of that story, because I'm more interested in getting down to things quickly here. __The Book of Morgan Le Fey is long but it will really help readers make sense of what's going on in this story._**


	2. Chapter Two: Of Blood and Testimony

_Chapter Two: Of Blood and Testimony_

There were two people in the moving photograph. A pretty girl with auburn hair that she wore in a long plait down her back. In the photo the plait was draped over her shoulder. She had her arm around a black haired, green-eyed boy who wore wire-rim glasses and had a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. The boy put his arm around her shoulder, and they smiled at the camera for a moment, and then the boy turned and looked at the girl, and for the first time in a long time, he looked genuinely happy. The girl looked radiant. Then the boy placed his hand on the side of the girl's neck and lowered his head, and they kissed.

Harry Potter stared at the photograph in a kind of semi-daze. He'd done little else since getting home from school. A part of him knew he shouldn't be looking at the photograph. Why, after all, was he torturing himself? But he couldn't look away. He couldn't forget that moment. Or the girl.

Susan Bones was the girl in the photograph. And Harry was the boy.

He watched the figures in the photo again, replaying the scene over and over again. Posing for the picture, Susan putting her arm round his waist, Harry putting his arm round her shoulder. Smiling like he meant it. Because at the time he had meant it. And then meeting her eyes and seeing and feeling something he'd never thought was possible, and kissing her...Over and over again it went, like a scratch in an old LP.

His eyes burned and a tear escaped to trace down his cheek. 

Why? he thought for the millionth time. Why did she do it?

The question was a rhetorical one. Harry knew why Susan had dumped him. She had left because she couldn't, in the end, handle being in love with The Boy Who Lived, but Who Might Not Survive in the End. She couldn't deal with the knowledge that he was the boy of the Prophecy, that fateful, horrible prophecy that said he would either kill or be killed by Lord Voldemort. 

Harry laughed bitterly under his breath. It would have been a lot better if Susan had just told him she'd taken up with another bloke, or even that she didn't love him anymore. But she hadn't said that. She'd said she DID still love him, but she had to give him up anyway. The irony would be funny if it weren't so cruel.

Harry grabbed the photo and clenched it in his hand, once again ready to tear it to pieces. And once again, he couldn't. He wanted to hate her, but he couldn't do that, either. He wanted to despise her for not being brave enough, for not being loyal enough, but he couldn't. Because he knew how hard it was to be loyal to him. 

Harry's eyes moved to the stack of letters on his desk. He wasn't even home a day when he got missives from Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He picked up Hermione's and opened it and sighed. Hermione's letter was typical of her. Packed first with details on her holiday with her parents (she was meeting them in the South of France this year) in the first third, and full of advice on how to 'confront his grief and pain' in the second third, and in the final third, of course, was the repeated exhortation to study and keep fully up to date on their course work, because N.E.W.T.s were imminent. The letter was three pages long. Harry shook his head and smiled, just slightly, before putting the letter aside.

He picked up Ron's letter. It was significantly shorter, made brief mention of Quidditch, Apparition training, and goings on at the Burrow (degnoming was especially heavy this year) and made no mention of Susan by name except to say that she didn't deserve Harry, anyway, and that she was barmy and stupid and it was her loss. Harry didn't really believe all of that, but it did make him feel just a little better. 

He then picked up Ginny's letter. He found himself returning to that letter a lot in the past few days. However much he appreciated Ron's and Hermione's efforts, it was Ginny's words that brought the most comfort. Maybe because she didn't make a conscious effort to try and make him feel better. Maybe because she was so honest. Whatever it was, Harry enjoyed the letter. They had become good friends over the past two years, owing in part to Ginny finally getting over her girlish crush on him, and in part to Harry finally recognizing her as more than just Ron's Little Sister. She'd been a good friend to him in the aftermath of the breakup.

Harry looked back at the photograph of Susan and himself. The ache was still there, so raw inside his chest. He bit his lip, opened his desk drawer, and slid the photograph inside, slipping it between the pages of his photo album. Someday, he told himself, I'll get rid of it. But not today.

'HARRY POTTER!'

The bellowing voice of Vernon Dursley shook Harry out of his reverie.

'HARRY POTTER, GET DOWN HERE NOW!'

Harry scowled. Less then four weeks, he told himself again. Less than four weeks, and you can be out of this house for good. Out of this wretched place where the sound of your own name grates on your nerves, because it's always said through clenched teeth, or with a shout, as it was now.

'Coming, Uncle Vernon!' Harry called back, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice at all.

The past two summers, Harry's behaviour toward his contemptible relatives ranged from the indifferent to the impertinent, with every manifestation of quiet loathing and disrespect in between. Now that he had pretty much the entire staff of Hogwarts and a good number of Ministry employees on his side, looking after him and monitoring his relatives' treatment of him, Harry didn't bother with the pretense of being polite to the only living relatives he had left.

Harry stood up and picked up his wand from his desk, making a point of tucking it into his jeans. He exited his bedroom and clomped heavily down the stairs, knowing full well that his heavy footfalls, and the sight of his wand, set Uncle Vernon's teeth on edge. 

'Stop plodding like a bloody elephant, boy!' Uncle Vernon snapped, as Harry reached the foot of the stairs.

'What is it, Uncle?' Harry asked sweetly.

'"It",' said Uncle Vernon, his face already beginning to turn puce, 'is another set of messages from your freaky little friends.' He shoved a pile of letters into Harry's hand. 'I thought I told you, Potter, to have those filthy birds deliver your rubbish directly to your room,' he added hotly.

'Oops,' said Harry, shrugging. 'I must have forgotten. You know, fighting evil wizards and all--' He started to withdraw his wand from the waistband of his jeans.

'DON'T talk about your...your kind,' Uncle Vernon said hastily, holding up his hands. 'And put that blasted thing away. Now get in the kitchen and help your aunt.'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, tucking his wand away and giving Uncle Vernon a cheeky grin. The boy could feel Uncle Vernon's scowl as he sauntered lazily into the kitchen. It was Sunday morning, which meant a big Sunday breakfast.

'Good morning, Aunt Petunia,' Harry said, putting on his most saccharine tone of voice and setting his letters down on the edge of the sideboard. Aunt Petunia glared at him with her horsey face.

'Don't smile,' she snapped. 'It makes you look ghastly. Get going on the eggs, and don't make a mess of it.'

'Yes, Aunt Petunia,' said Harry, taking eggs from the refrigerator and setting out a bowl and some milk and setting them on the counter. He turned and grinned at his cousin, Dudley. Dudley's fat had been steadily replaced by muscle, and he was so massive now Harry often joked that he had his own time zone.

'Morning, Big D,' he said. 'Or is it Ickle Diddydums?'

'Shut your mouth, Potter,' said Dudley, glowering. 

'Leave him alone,' Aunt Petunia hissed.

'Whatever you say, Aunt Petunia,' said Harry good-naturedly, as he cracked an egg neatly into the bowl. He repeated with several more eggs, added milk, and began to whisk everything together. If there was one thing anyone could say about Harry Potter, he made very good scrambled eggs. Not that the Dursleys noticed. In fact they made a point of complaining about the quality of Harry's cooking all the time. Harry had become quite good at cooking, but somehow he knew that if he could turn out a five-star meal to make a chef weep, the Dursleys would find something to complain about.

The meal was prepared quickly enough. Harry wasn't particularly hungry but he ate his fill--getting a substantial meal in the Dursley household was a relatively new experience for him and, hungry or not, he was determined to take advantage of it. 

Harry ate, while the Dursleys pretended he wasn't sitting there. Harry didn't care--he had gotten so used to being ignored by the Dursleys that it didn't faze him. He thought briefly about causing a bit of trouble this morning, just to get Uncle Vernon upset, but decided against it. He still wasn't seventeen, and though his relatives had agreed to keep him, that didn't mean he should push his luck...too much.

The meal went on in a stony silence and was just wrapping up when there was a loud knock at the door.

Uncle Vernon, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, sprayed his beverage all down his front and spluttered indignantly.

'Who on EARTH comes by unannounced on a Sunday?' he roared.

'Just ignore whoever it is, dear,' said Aunt Petunia, her lips tight with disapproval.

'Hmph,' said Uncle Vernon, wiping bits of egg from his mustache. 'The nerve of some people--'

At this the knock came again, louder, more persistent.

'Bloody hell!' Uncle Vernon snapped. 'Probably some stupid Boy Scouts. I'll teach them some ruddy manners!'

He stood up, nearly upending the table with his large belly, and stormed to the front door. Harry, curious, watched as his uncle swung the door open.

'Now see here,' Uncle Vernon began indignantly, 'who do you think--'

But suddenly he stopped talking. Harry couldn't see just who Uncle Vernon was talking to, but then he heard a familiar voice.

'I'm here to see Harry,' said Remus Lupin. 

Harry leapt up from the kitchen table and started toward the living room. Aunt Petunia and Dudley followed.

'We are NOT mistreating that boy!' Vernon shouted.

'That's not why I'm here,' said Lupin calmly. Harry came round to Uncle Vernon's side and was able to get a view of Lupin. His hair was even greyer than before, and his wardrobe was so shabby that, were he not freshly showered and clean-shaven, one would mistake him for a hobo. He cast a glance at Harry, flashed a very brief, tiny smile, and then looked back at Harry's uncle.

'Well, then, get out,' said Uncle Vernon angrily. 'We don't need you riffraff coming round.' He started to slam the door in Lupin's face.

Lupin caught the door, and with surprising strength, he shoved it back against Uncle Vernon. Calmly, Lupin withdrew his wand.

'Now, sir,' he said coolly. 'I'm quite certain you don't want to do that. If you do slam the door in my face I'll simply stay here on your front porch and let the neighbors wonder why such a strange looking, shabbily dressed man is skulking on your property.'

'You do that and we'll...we'll call the police!' Aunt Petunia shrieked.

'Go right ahead,' said Lupin calmly. 'I'll simply vanish into thin air, and then your neighbors will really start to wonder.'

Aunt Petunia went white in the face, and Uncle Vernon's mouth began to work furiously. Dudley slowly began to back away from the front door; Harry was quite sure the other boy was whimpering under his breath.

'Come, come,' said Lupin, putting an edge to his voice. 'Are you going to make me stand here all day and draw attention to yourself or will you let me in?'

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged a horrified look, and then Uncle Vernon grabbed Lupin by the elbow.

'Get in here, then!' he snapped, pulling the wizard inside. 'Now see here, you...you...WHATEVER you are! Who do you think you are coming into my home on a Sunday--'

'Professor Lupin!' Harry said, feeling a twinge of something like happiness for the first time in days. Without thinking, he hugged his former teacher.

'Hello, Harry,' said Lupin, returning the embrace. 

Harry backed away, and Uncle Vernon scowled.

'What is going on here?' Uncle Vernon demanded. He whirled on Lupin. 'Now look here. If you've come to claim we're mistreating the boy, you can just turn right back round and get out. Potter is fine!'

'Yeah,' said Dudley, and he cracked his knuckles menacingly--he seemed to have gotten over his fright for the moment. Harry rolled his eyes. To look at Lupin, who was thin and shabbily dressed, one would think Dudley could squash the older man flat. Harry knew better.

Lupin, for his part, simply drew his wand and held it lazily in his right hand.

'I really don't want this to be unpleasant,' he said. 'I already said I'm not here to check up on Harry's health. Although now that you mention it, he looks quite healthy.'

'Of course he does,' said Uncle Vernon defensively. 'What do you think we do, starve him?'

Harry snorted, and Uncle Vernon shot him a murderous look.

'I'm here,' said Lupin pointedly, 'because I need to talk to Harry about something very important. It has nothing to do with you.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' said Uncle Vernon furiously. 'Couldn't you have just arranged to take the boy somewhere? Why come here?'

Lupin cast a long look at Aunt Petunia. 'Your wife knows that answer to that,' he said. 'I won't be long, but if you don't mind, I'll just go up to Harry's room and we'll discuss this. And if it makes you feel any better, Mr. Dursley, I'll be happy to leave by...the back door.'

'You do that,' said Uncle Vernon darkly. Lupin nodded.

'Come on, Harry,' he said, and he and Harry started up the stairs to Harry's bedroom.

'And...and next time, don't show up unannounced, on a Sunday!' Uncle Vernon added, shaking his fist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Sit down, Harry,' said Lupin, gesturing to Harry's bed. The former professor's eyes were grave.

'What's up?' said Harry, instantly sensing that something was wrong. 'Is it Voldemort?'

'Yes,' said Lupin. 'And no.'

'What does that mean?' said Harry warily.

'Look, Harry, we weren't able to tell you anything in the immediate aftermath of what happened in the Riddle House,' said Lupin, and he took a seat on Harry's desk chair. 'I was, of course, in hospital, you were unconscious, Hermione was unconscious...there were so many people injured because of all the Death Eater attacks that it took every second of the Ministry's time and energy to get on top of things.'

'Yeah, I kind of figured that,' said Harry. 'But they're on top of things now?'

'For the most part, yes,' said Lupin. 'And we have you, and your friends, to thank for it. Harry, when you and your friends fought those Death Eaters, you dealt Voldemort a major blow. Many of his closest lieutenants are dead, or in custody.'

'And Voldemort himself?' said Harry. 'Are there any reports on him?'

'Mm,' said Lupin, nodding. 'Our latest information has him hiding out in Bulgaria.'

'Bulgaria?' said Harry, his eyes wide.

'Yes,' said Lupin. 'Voldemort had no small number of supporters over there; the Durmstrang Institute has produced its own fair share of Dark wizards and witches who have joined Voldemort's cause. Some of them are dead but we believe the ones who are left are hiding him.'

'Igor Karkaroff?' Harry asked at once. Karkaroff was the former Headmaster of Durmstrang, and a former Death Eater.

'Karkaroff's whereabouts are unclear,' said Lupin. 'The last time anyone heard from Karkaroff, he was hardly considered to be in Voldemort's good books. The Bulgarian Ministry is hoping to find him and use him as a spy, but nobody here has any confidence it'll work. Voldemort already took one spy back into the fold, and it backfired on him.'

'You mean Snape,' said Harry.

'Professor Snape,' Lupin corrected. 'But yes, that's right. It's highly unlikely that Voldemort would make the same mistake twice. And if Karkaroff is alive and is out there somewhere, odds are Voldemort will find him first.'

'So...Voldemort's regrouping again?' said Harry.

'Not just regrouping,' said Lupin. 'Recovering.'

'Recovering?' said Harry, confused.

'Harry, when you fought with Voldemort, you hurt him,' said Lupin slowly. 'Quite badly, I might add.'

Harry stared at Lupin, open-mouthed. 'I...I did?'

'Yes, you did,' said Lupin. 'At least, it appears very strongly that you did. You don't remember it, because you passed out. But the Ministry sent technicians to sweep the house for evidence, and outside, they found some drops of blood on some flagstones several feet away, leading away from the front of the house. Harry, did you ever go outside in the front of the house?'

'No,' said Harry at once. 'We came in through the back, and stayed inside for the battle. Tonks told me they brought me out back and then back inside and Flooed me to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. I've never even seen the front of that house. Why?'

'Then it's curious, isn't it, that the blood found on those flagstones was determined to be yours,' said Lupin.

Harry gaped at Lupin. 'That's impossible, I just said I was never out there--'

'I know, Harry,' said Lupin at once. 'I know that, and you know that. But the Ministry doesn't. They think you went out front at some point in the melee. And that's what Dumbledore wants them to think.'

'Dumbledore?' said Harry, now thoroughly confused. 'Look, Professor, I know Dumbledore...does his own thing a lot but...why would he want the Ministry to believe I was outside the front of the house...'

Harry's voice trailed off. Something had just struck him, like a ton of bricks.

'My blood,' he said. 'But...I wasn't there. That's...physically impossible. Unless someone put it there. Or unless...'

Harry closed his eyes, and every horrible image from that fateful night, every sound, every flash of light and pain, came rushing back.

'Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken,' he murmured. 'You will resurrect your foe...'

'Harry?' 

'He has my blood,' said Harry, his eyes snapping open. 'Inside him. He took some of my blood that night, the night Cedric was murdered. Voldemort used my blood to help him come back.'

'Yes,' said Lupin.

'So...that blood on the flagstones...if it didn't come from me...it came from him,' said Harry.

'That's right, Harry,' said Lupin. 'Don't you see? At some point that night, you hurt him. Nobody else could have done that. Nobody else faced him like you did, or had the strength.'

Harry blinked, and then shook his head. 'But, wait...he Disapparated. That's what Ron said. He tried to possess me and I pushed him out of my head and then I passed out, and Ron said he Disapparated.'

'Yes, but where did he go?' said Lupin, leaning forward. 'If Voldemort were badly hurt in some way, he couldn't Apparate very far. An injured wizard, no matter how powerful, always has a harder time Apparating. Even a short distance can exhaust him. It's possible he only got as far as the front of his house, and then found some other way to escape. Nobody would have gone looking for him, because nobody would have suspected he was hurt. They would have seen him Disapparate and assume he'd taken himself far away. They would have given up before even trying to go after him. And there were all the wounded to deal with, the bodies...'

Harry stared up at his former teacher, and then rubbed his hand over his forehead. It was only in that moment that he realized his scar hadn't hurt him, at all, in days.

'How could I have hurt him?' said Harry. 'That Cruciatus Curse, it...it hit him but he threw it off. He wasn't bleeding at all when we fought. And afterward...Ron would have noticed, he would have said something about it.'

'Perhaps Voldemort didn't start to bleed until he'd Apparated,' Lupin suggested. 'Or whatever wound you inflicted was hidden beneath his robes and the blood only started to seep out once he got outside.'

Harry looked at Lupin doubtfully. 'That's a stretch, isn't it?'

'Harry, I'm telling you, unless you went outside or someone else took a bit of your blood and dripped it on those flagstones, there's no other explanation for it,' said Lupin fervently. 'Somehow or other you managed to draw blood from Lord Voldemort. Something no one has been able to do since he returned.'

Harry's eyes went wide again, but they were half-unseeing. Was it even possible?

'Professor,' he said, as something occurred to him. 'Voldemort has my blood in him but...Wormtail only took a little bit from me. Wouldn't it have changed in some way? I mean, when he came back?'

'The spell Voldemort used to return to his body is an ancient form of Dark Magic,' said Lupin. 'I know very little about it myself--Dumbledore has more answers about it than I do. But your blood is in Voldemort's veins, now Harry. He chose your blood because of your mother's sacrifice, and the protection it provided you.'

'I know,' said Harry. 'I remember. Do you...do you think it'll work? Protect him, I mean?'

'I don't think even Voldemort really knows that, Harry,' said Lupin. 'One thing in our favor is that Voldemort generally doesn't spend too much time on details. It's probably one of the reasons you've been able to escape him so many times.'

'Yeah,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'That and luck.'

'Well, luck, too,' said Lupin, smiling. 'The point is, Harry, something you did that night hurt Voldemort. Dumbledore will devote as much time as he can to learn more about this, but in the meantime--'

'I'll look into it,' said Harry. 'Right.'

'Get your friends to help you,' said Lupin. 'They'll be eager to, I think. Hermione, in particular would be good at this sort of thing.'

'Yeah, she would,' said Harry. 'I'll...I'll ask them.'

'Good,' said Lupin, and he smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. And suddenly Harry remembered something.

'Professor,' Harry began.

'Please, Harry, I think you can call me Remus by now,' said Lupin.

'Okay, er...Remus,' said Harry, a bit awkwardly. 'You said...you had something to tell me, and when I asked you about Voldemort you said...yes _and_ no. What's the "no" part?'

At this, Lupin sighed and reached into his robes, pulling out a thick blue envelope.

'I'm afraid...this is for you,' he said, handing the envelope to Harry. Harry took it, eyeing Lupin cautiously for a moment, then turning his green eyes to study the object in his hand.

The envelope had a logo on it that read '_Ministry of Magic: Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' Beneath that, it read..._

'Official Summons,' said Harry, and at once he felt a sinking in his gut. He tore open the envelope and pulled out a several-paged document and began to read. The sinking feeling turned into a twisting knot.

'They want me to testify in Malfoy's trial,' he said, not looking up.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' said Lupin. 'I only found out about it late last night. They were going to send an owl today but...I wanted to be able to deliver the news in person.'

Harry looked up, feeling suddenly as exhausted as he'd felt those first few days after waking up in the hospital wing this last time.

'Why do they need me?' he said. 'They've got Draco's testimony.'

'They do,' said Lupin. 'But they're afraid it isn't enough. They haven't found much physical evidence to build their case, Harry. Draco's testimony is helpful, but he's fragile. His history with his father is...very complicated. And Lucius will have the best trial lawyers money can buy. He'll think nothing of setting one of those people on his own son. Draco could crack from the pressure. As it is Dumbledore has had to keep him at St. Mungo's for psychological evaluation and counseling.'

'Professor--Remus,' Harry said. 'I...I don't want to testify. They can't make me--'

'They can, Harry,' said Lupin sadly. 'I'm afraid they can.'

Harry looked down at the hateful paper again, and then he crumpled it. 'Shit,' he muttered.

'That's what I said when I heard the news,' said Lupin. 'Harry, I know how hard this must be for you. To have to relive everything. Especially now, on your summer holiday, and after everything you've just been through. But your testimony could put Lucius Malfoy away for good. He won't just get sent to Azkaban if he's convicted. The Chief Prosecutor has authorized a full Obliviation of Malfoy's mind. He'll have his wand taken. He'll be stripped of his magic. Malfoy is one of Voldemort's closest lieutenants, and the Ministry--'

'The Ministry needs to appear like it's accomplishing something,' said Harry acidly, not bothering to moderate his tone. 'After all the attacks, all the deaths.'

Lupin didn't seem to notice Harry's tone. 'That's right. But even beyond that, Harry, convicting Lucius Malfoy will bring justice for a lot of people. You included.'

Harry blew out a breath. Great, just great. Home for barely three days and now this. He never could get a break. He wondered if Ron and Hermione had heard about this. Ron and Hermione...

'Is the Ministry making Ron and Hermione testify?' he asked.

'No,' said Lupin, 'though I think they would in a heartbeat.'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah,' he said. Of course they would. 'But the Ministry, they want the Boy Who Lived,' he added bitterly.

'Well, there is that,' Lupin admitted. 'Harry, your story is compelling. Everything you've been through, all the times you've escaped Voldemort--'

'Well, I'm certainly happy to provide entertainment for people!' Harry snapped, standing up sharply. 'Christ...REMUS...all those bloody reporters there, and they'll take my picture and...and I'll be a bloody sideshow act all over again...you think Draco Malfoy will crack, well who's to say I won't, eh? Who's to say Lucius Malfoy's lawyer won't rip me a new orifice, make me go barmy on the bloody witness stand?'

'Harry, you're stronger than that and you know it,' said Lupin firmly, and he stood up as well and placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. 'My god, I'm sorry. I'm sorry everything seems to happen to you. I'm sorry...Sirius can't be here to help you deal with this. I know I'm a poor substitute--'

'You're not,' said Harry at once. 'You're not. I...shit. I'm sorry.'

'You don't have to apologize,' said Lupin. 'Vent your spleen as much as you need to. You're entitled.'

Harry sighed again, and picked up the crumpled document from his bed. He read it again, and snorted.

'Says I'm expected in court on 31 July,' he said. 'Happy Birthday to me.'

'I really am sorry, Harry,' said Lupin.

'I know,' said Harry. 'It's not your fault.'

There was a brief pause, and Lupin spoke again. 'There's more.'

'More?' said Harry. 'Please tell me you're joking.'

'This part isn't so bad,' said Lupin, smiling. 'I've been in consultation with Dumbledore about this, and the Weasleys. With Voldemort effectively in hiding at the moment and showing no signs of movement, and with everything you're having to put up with...Dumbledore has agreed you don't have to stay here anymore.'

Harry was so shocked at this news that he gasped out loud. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes, Harry, I'm serious,' said Lupin. 'Unless you want to stay--'

'No way!' said Harry. 'Are you mad? I've been dying to get out of here since...bloody forever! When can I leave? Right now? And where am I staying? The Burrow? Not Grimmauld Place--'

'Slow down, Harry!' said Lupin, smiling. 'There are a few things that we need to do for you first. You can't leave today.'

'When, then?' said Harry desperately. 

'In three days,' said Lupin. 'In three days, I'll be back with a few Aurors to pick you up. After Dumbledore and I have worked out the details--'

'Fine, whatever,' said Harry, grinning--and meaning it--for the first time in what felt like ages. 'Do what you have to do. Just hurry up and get me out of here. And...I can go to the Burrow, right?'

'Yes, you can go to the Burrow,' said Lupin. 

'And I don't have to come back here, do I?' Harry asked eagerly. 'Not ever, right?'

'Not ever,' said Lupin. 'Once you're seventeen you're of age, you're on your own--'

'YES!' said Harry, so loudly that Uncle Vernon yelled 'Be quiet, boy!' from downstairs. Harry ignored his uncle and threw his arms round Lupin's neck; he felt like jumping up and down.

He didn't have to wait three and a half weeks to leave this wretched house. Three days. Three days and he was out of there. Finished with Number Four Privet Drive for good.

'Can I write Ron and Hermione, and Ginny about this?' said Harry, letting go of Lupin.

Lupin sobered. 'I don't think so, Harry,' he said, and he put up his hands to ward off Harry's protests. 'I know it's safe for the moment but Voldemort still has his followers out there. It's best not to broadcast your movements in a letter. Ron and Hermione will find out soon enough. All right?'

'Okay,' said Harry, and suddenly it didn't matter that he couldn't write to Ron and the others. It didn't matter that he had to testify in Lucius Malfoy's trial. It almost didn't even matter that Susan had dumped him. What mattered was that he was finally leaving. For good.

'I can't believe it,' said Harry, feeling a bit bewildered all of a sudden. 'I'm...finally going to be free of this place.'

'I'm sure your family will be disappointed to see you go,' said Lupin wryly.

'Are you kidding? They'll be so happy they'll wet themselves,' said Harry.

Lupin left soon after, and not long after that, Harry broke the happy news to the Dursleys. Nobody wet themselves, but both Aunt Petunia and Dudley burst into tears of joy, and Uncle Vernon nearly hugged Harry before he caught himself and ordered Harry to get out of his sight and go upstairs to his room.


	3. Chapter Three: The Duties of a Big Broth...

_Chapter Three: The Duties of a Big Brother_

Two mornings after learning about Harry having to testify at Lucius Malfoy's trial, Ron sat at the kitchen table, trying to start a Potions essay.

He was in a foul mood; he'd slept poorly the past two nights, but when he woke up, he couldn't remember any of his dreams to write them down in his diary. This irritated him no end--at least if he was going to lose sleep, he ought to be able to remember the dreams that kept causing him to wake up. When he'd finally dropped off at six o'clock this particular morning, the explosions started. They'd been going on for the past two hours. Once again Ron began to wish he'd just stayed at Hogwarts this summer. At least the wards there were already in place.

Then there was the homework situation itself, which was by any objective measure entirely unreasonable. At least three essays for every subject, three feet of parchment each. All in preparation, the teachers had said, for upcoming N.E.W.Ts. The only teacher who hadn't given any homework at all was Hagrid.

Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests indeed, Ron thought. 

But of all the homework he had to face, none was so onerous as that of Professor Snape's.

'Evil git,' Ron muttered, for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Seven essays for summer homework. SEVEN. Ron scowled. Never mind that Snape was a spy for the Order and had blown his cover at the end of the last school term. Never mind that Snape had helped Luna brew the potion that had ultimately saved Harry's and Hermione's lives. Any person who could assign seven essays--three feet of parchment EACH--for the summer holidays was evil.

BOOM!

Another explosion from outside. It so startled Ron that he upended his inkpot and spilled black liquid onto his clean sheet of parchment.

'Shit!' he said angrily, righting the inkpot. Half the ink was now seeping onto his parchment. He groaned, picked up his wand from the table, and said '_Scourgify_.' The ink vanished...sort of. Left behind was a faint purplish stain all across the parchment. Ron immediately decided on a fresh piece of parchment; knowing Snape, the greasy prat would deduct points just for the ink stain. He also made a mental note to get help from his mother with all manner of Cleaning Charms.

'Hey,' said Ginny, sitting down heavily across from her older brother. She slid a pile of books onto the table. 'What's that, Potions?'

'Yeah,' said Ron bitterly. 'Honestly. Seven bloody essays?'

'Well, it is N.E.W.T. year,' said Ginny, opening up _1,001 Magical Herbs and Fungi. 'And you want to be an Auror, so...'_

'Yeah, yeah,' said Ron. 'Spare me the lecturing, okay? I'll get enough of that when Hermione gets here.'

'You like her nagging you and you know it,' said Ginny. 'It's some sick sort of foreplay with you two.'

'What do you know about foreplay?' said Ron sharply, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

'Wouldn't you like to know?' said Ginny, smiling smugly.

'Actually, I wouldn't, thanks,' said Ron, shuddering just slightly.

'Morning,' said a third voice. Ron and Ginny looked up to see Percy hobbling into the kitchen. His cane made heavy tapping noises on the tile, and he was smartly dressed, in simple navy blue robes, for work.

'Doing homework?' he said, raising his eyebrows and sounding impressed. 'There's something new.'

Just then another massive explosion sounded from outside.

'Good lord, it's worse than when Fred and George lived here,' said Percy, shaking his head. 

BOOM!

'Oi, what the bloody hell kind of wards are these?' Ron snapped, to no one in particular. 

'Whatever they are, they'd better be good,' said Ginny.

'How'm I supposed to get any work done?' Ron grumbled. 'Honestly.'

Percy cleared his throat, and Ron looked up. His older brother--his uptight, work-obsessed older brother, was smiling wryly at him.

'What?' Ron asked defensively.

'Oh, you just...remind me of someone, that's all,' said Percy, grinning.

'Shut it,' said Ron, feeling his face go red. But he smiled--it was nice having Percy home, really. Well, now that he'd apologized to the family and finally found a sense of humour.

'I'm off to work, then,' said Percy good-naturedly. 

'What about breakfast?' Ginny said. 'You haven't eaten anything.'

'I'll grab something at the office, but thanks for looking out for me, baby sister,' said Percy, and he leaned down and kissed Ginny quickly on the forehead. She rolled her eyes at him affectionately.

'I'm not a baby,' she muttered.

Percy moved away from them, toward the fireplace, dragging his dead leg as he went. Ron kept his eyes fixed on his still-blank parchment. Percy's injury was something that was rarely discussed. Percy himself never complained about it, although a few times Ron had seen the pain written on Percy's face when he moved. He'd grown very adept at using his cane for support, to the point that he could move nearly as well and as fast as anyone with two good legs, but Ron wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the heavy tapping sound Percy's cane made when he walked. It was a reminder to Ron of how close he'd come to losing Percy completely.

'See you two later,' Percy said, taking a handful of Floo Powder. He hadn't Apparated since he got his injury--apparently, injured wizards had a lot more difficulty Apparating, and a bigger chance of splinching themselves. He smiled, threw the powder into the fire, and said 'Ministry of Magic.' He stepped into the green flames and with a WHOOSH! was gone.

For a long moment, there was silence in the wake of Percy's departure. Ron chanced a glimpse up at Ginny, and saw that her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

'Hey,' he said. 'You okay, Gin?'

She sniffed, blinked and nodded. 'Sorry,' she said sheepishly. 'I just...I'm glad he's back, that's all.'

'Me, too,' said Ron, taking Ginny's hand in his and smiling. She smiled back, and Ron felt a kind of calm settle over him. He and Ginny had been close once, a long time ago, when they were just kids. When it was just the two of them and the other Weasley brothers were off at Hogwarts. But they'd drifted apart over the years. Sitting with her now, sharing a silent understanding, was something they'd done a lot as kids, and it was only now that Ron realized how much he had missed it. And then the image came to his mind, unbidden, of the night in the Riddle House, when Voldemort had threatened her. After they'd survived that night, he had vowed to protect her. He felt a pang in his heart and unconsciously squeezed her hand.

'What?' said Ginny.

'Nothing,' said Ron, and he let go of Ginny's hand and looked down at his parchment.

'Ron,' said Ginny, and he felt her eyes on him. 'What?'

He looked up. Girls, he thought. They never let anything rest. Ginny was even worse than Hermione.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny beat him to it.

'You're thinking about that night again, aren't you?' she said, and there was the slightest edge to her voice.

He nodded.

'Ron, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm fine,' she said. She took a deep breath. 'I'm not being possessed, and--'

'I know,' said Ron. 'Look, Gin...I'm sorry. I can't help it. That sick bastard, what he said to you...'

'I remember what he said,' said Ginny, gripping her quill tightly. 'I remember a lot of things.'

'Then why don't you ever talk about it?' said Ron, leaning forward and gripping her hand again. 'Ginny...I know I wasn't there for you when it happened and...I've been a shitty big brother to you for a long time but...it's me, okay? Can't you...can't you talk to me?'

'I don't want to talk about it!' Ginny snapped, yanking her hand away. 'Dammit, Ron, I spent a month in St. Mungo's _talking about it, with some stupid psychoanalyst. Some complete idiot who was trying to help me get over the __trauma of being possessed by a wizard whose name he couldn't even bring himself to say!' _

'Ginny--'

'No, you listen,' said Ginny furiously. 'You can't just expect me to spill everything to you after not bothering to ask for the past six years, okay? For your information, I am fine. I've been fine. I've dealt with the whole possessed by Tom thing, do you understand? I've dealt with all the guilt of opening the Chamber and setting the fucking Basilisk loose on the school and scaring the shit out of everyone. It's over and I'm done with it and I don't care to rehash it.'

Ron stared at her. 'You called him Tom.'

'So?'

'So,' said Ron, 'you've called him that before.'

'Well, that's who he was!' Ginny yelled, shooting up from her chair. 'Okay? He wasn't always Voldemort! Once upon a time he was just a boy, a really smart boy who paid attention to me. He was my friend when nobody else was! I can't help it if that's who he was to me!'

'Ginny--'

'Don't you get it, Ron?' Ginny went on. 'When you left for school I had nobody. For a whole fucking year I was miserable because my favorite brother had gone off to school and left me here to hang out with Mum. Who, let's face it, isn't always a barrel of laughs.'

'I couldn't help going to school!' Ron said angrily, and he stood as well. 

'I know,' said Ginny, and her eyes filled with tears, and she brushed them away impatiently. 'I know you couldn't. But you could have...you could have been nicer when I showed up. You could have...been there.'

Ron looked down at his sister and felt his stomach twist with guilt.

'I'm sorry, Ginny,' he said weakly. 'I'm really sorry.'

'I just wanted to be a part of everything,' Ginny said, biting her lip. 'It was always the boys around here. The boys going out for a swim at the lake, the boys playing a game of Quidditch in the back yard. Do you know how it felt when you wouldn't let me play?'

'Pretty rotten, I imagine,' Ron mumbled, feeling horrible, and ashamed.

'Yes, pretty rotten,' said Ginny, and she folded her arms across her chest. 

'I've been a selfish arse, haven't I?' said Ron.

'Yeah,' said Ginny, 'but not all the time.'

Ron nodded, at a loss for what to say. Her outburst, which had initially so surprised him, now seemed like it had been a long time coming. How long had she wanted to lash out at him for all those years of pushing her aside? 

He felt her hand on his arm and he lifted his gaze to look down at her. She was so small, he noticed just then. Smaller than Hermione, smaller than Mum.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I shouldn't have--'

'No, it's okay,' he said. 'I deserve it.'

'Well, yes, but...I'm still glad you're my brother,' she said. 'Even if you are a thick headed prat.'

'I am that,' Ron said.

'In fairness, though, I'm a stubborn, nosy brat, so I think we're even,' said Ginny. Ron laughed softly, then sobered and put his hands on her shoulders.

'Look, Gin, being that I'm a thick headed prat and need things spelled out for me,' he said, 'just...if you need to tell me something, just tell me, okay? Straight out. Smack me over the head if you need to. I mean, at least let me try to make up for my six years of prathood.'

She looked up at him and he saw a twinkle in her bright brown eyes as she made a dramatic show of considering.

'All right, then,' she said, nodding. He smiled, feeling a little better, and let go of her shoulders. He started to sit down again when she took his hand.

'Ron,' she said. 'I really am okay. I mean...I think about Tom Riddle, all right? I do. But...he wasn't a friend. He betrayed me, he used me to get to Harry, and he tried to kill me, and I'll hate him forever for that.'

'So will I,' said Ron.

They looked at one another for a long moment, when suddenly another huge explosion ripped the air. Ginny jumped slightly and Ron groaned, and just then the front door slammed open and Mrs. Weasley entered. Her hair was tangled and covered with leaves, and her clothes were patched with dirt.

'Oh, you're awake!' she said, sounding brisk and energized.

'How could we be otherwise?' said Ginny. 'What have you been doing?'

'Helping with the wards, of course,' said Mrs. Weasley, as she hurried into the pantry and began pulling out food. 'Are you two hungry?'

'Not really,' said Ginny.

'Yes,' said Ron, and his stomach growled. Ginny giggled and mouthed 'Typical' at him.

'The wards are in good shape so far,' Mrs. Weasley was saying as she waved her wand at the stove and lit the burners. 'Only a few more tests and they should be ready. Then you two can get outside and enjoy the weather.' She stopped stirring eggs in the skillet to look round the kitchen.

'Did Percy already leave?'

'He left fifteen minutes ago,' said Ron.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. 'And I suppose he said he'd get breakfast at work.'

Ron and Ginny nodded. Mrs. Weasley clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

'That boy doesn't eat enough,' she said, returning her attention to her eggs. 'Honestly. As if a cup of coffee and a stale Ministry crumpet is adequate breakfast.'

'Is Dad still out?' said Ginny, clearly wanting to change the subject away from Percy; Mum would fuss all day about Percy if one let her.

'Yes,' said Mrs. Weasley, sighing.

'Did they find anything at Malfoy Manor?' Ron asked, giving up on the pretence of doing homework.

'Nothing,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'but they did learn from Draco that Lucius often sold contraband to Borgin and Burke's.'

Ron looked up. 'That's the place Harry Flooed to by mistake back before second year; he told me he saw Lucius Malfoy selling some stuff there.'

'Yes, well,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'I wouldn't be surprised if nothing turns up there, either. Mr. Borgin is smart enough, and shady enough to know when to divest himself of controversial merchandise.'

'Harry's still going to have to testify?' said Ron heavily.

Mrs. Weasley stopped stirring her eggs and looked sadly at her youngest son. 'Barring a miracle, yes. But...oh! I almost forgot. I've been so busy with everything--'

'What?' said Ron and Ginny together.

'Harry is coming here tomorrow,' said Mrs. Weasley happily. 

'You're joking,' said Ron.

'No, I'm not,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Apparently Dumbledore has agreed that he no longer needs to stay on with the Muggles. Remus is picking Harry up tomorrow morning. He'll be here by the afternoon.'

'That's brilliant!' said Ron. 'And the wards'll be done by then?'

'They'll be finished,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'You can have your Quidditch practices if you like.'

'I don't know why Harry had to stay with those people, anyway,' said Ginny. 'They sound horrible.'

'They are,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'I'm not sure why Harry had to stay with them, either, dear. Dumbledore had his reasons, but apparently he believes it'll be good for Harry to be surrounded by friends before the trial.'

'Excellent,' said Ron, feeling better than he had all week. He was still furious that Harry had to testify in a trial, and still nervous for Ginny, and he still missed Hermione terribly. But at least Harry would be here, at his real home (well, second to Hogwarts, anyway), with people who cared about him.

Mrs. Weasley finished cooking the eggs, bacon and toast and piled the food onto plates for Ron and Ginny. Ron ate his and had seconds; Ginny ate half hers and gave the rest to Ron.

'Some day all that eating's going to catch up with you,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes at him.

'Nonsense, he's a growing boy,' said Mrs. Weasley fondly.

'Growing?' said Ginny. 'If he gets any taller his head'll hit the ceiling.'

'I'm not that tall,' said Ron, trying to keep the smugness out of his voice. The truth was, he rather liked being tall.

'Another few inches and you're in Hagrid territory,' said Ginny. He ruffled her hair.

'You're just jealous 'cause you're tetchy,' said Ron. 

'Petite,' said Ginny, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Ron rolled his eyes at her, but he was glad they were back to being sarcastic with one another. It was normal for them. He picked up his plate, and hers, and took it to the sink. He then picked up his wand and did a Cleaning Charm on them.

Another BOOM came from somewhere out back.

'Well,' said Mrs. Weasley, pulling her wand out again, 'I'm off to finish checking the wards.'

'Who's here checking them with you, anyway?' Ginny asked.

'Tonks and some young man named Towler,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Kenneth Towler, I think. Anyway, that's why there've been so many explosions. I can't believe Tonks is an Auror--she can barely walk ten feet without tripping over herself and bumping up against the wards. I'm off!'

She gave them a wave and headed out the door, striding determinedly toward the source of the explosions, which appeared to be some distance from the garden.

'Why doesn't she just Apparate there?' Ginny wondered.

'Dunno,' said Ron, and then something occurred to him. 'Maybe the wards prevent anyone from Apparating to and from the house.'

'That makes sense,' Ginny conceded, but just as she sat down, there was a loud CRACK!, then another. 

'Then again, maybe not,' said Ron, looking into the living room, where the noises had originated. But nobody was there.

'Weird,' said Ginny.

'I wonder what that was,' said Ron nervously, and he quickly picked up his wand from the kitchen table.

The answer came in the next moment, when a loud whoosh announced the arrival of Fred and George.

They were both spluttering indignantly as they stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot from their clothes. As usual, they were dressed in flashy Muggle togs: leather pants and brightly colored silk shirts (blue for Fred, green for George). They each wore a new pair of a dragon skin boots and what looked like leather jackets. George was carrying a small haversack.

'Bloody hell,' Fred grunted, annoyed. 'This is a brand new shirt.' He swiped impatiently at a spot of soot on his sleeve.

'What's going on?' said George angrily. 'Why can't we Apparate here?'

'What are you doing here?' said Ron.

'Nice to see you, too, Ickle Ronnie,' said Fred. 

'We're here,' said George dramatically, 'on Order business.'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'Lemme guess. Mum's run out of invisible ink.'

Fred gasped and feigned a heart attack. 'Invisible ink?! How DARE you besmirch our product!'

George took up the theme, brandishing the haversack. 'This is no Invisible Ink, you uncultured cretin! THIS is--'

'Weasley's Wily Writer,' said Ron and Ginny. 

'Very good!' said Fred. 'And in unison, no less.'

'Mum here?' George asked.

'She's out testing the wards with Tonks,' said Ginny.

'Wards?' said Fred, screwing up his face. 'What wards? The Burrow already has wards.'

'These are new ones,' said Ron. 

'Wait, twin,' said George. 'Suddenly...it all becomes clear. New wards. THAT must be why we are reduced to traveling by fireplace.'

'Well, that's just bloody uncouth!' said Fred indignantly. 'Honestly. How is a man supposed to maintain the integrity and cleanliness of his designer wardrobe if he can't--'

'Give it a rest, you two,' said Ron, rolling his eyes.

'What's that?' said George. 'Did I hear our much younger ickle brother mouth off to us?'

'He's gotten a bit cheeky, hasn't he, since we stopped slapping him around?' said Fred. They both looked up at Ron.

'What do you think, Twin?' said Fred. 'Do we take him down a peg or four?'

'Four pegs ought to do it,' said George.

'Please,' said Ron, and he took a step forward and held up his wand. 'I'm six inches taller than the both of you _and I can do magic legally and I've gotten pretty good at jinxes. Stop being prats, would you?'_

'Look at him, George,' said Fred, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. 'Our ickle brother. He's just so...grown up.'

'It seems like only yesterday you were turning his ickle bear into a giant spider, Fred,' said George.

'Shut up,' said Ron.

'Do you hear that, Twin?' said George indignantly. 'Honestly. So rude. Since we're so obviously not wanted here, we'll head back to our wildly successful shop and continue raking in the Galleons.'

'Meantime,' said Fred, 'tell Mum there's an Order meeting tonight, and Dumbledore wants her there. Seven o'clock sharp.'

'Here's the minutes from the last meeting,' said George, pulling out a roll of parchment. 'And here's the ink.'

'Weasley's Wily Writer, George!' said Fred, punching him in the arm. 'Haven't we talked about the importance of product placement?'

Ron wasn't paying attention to the twins; his eyes had strayed to the rolled up parchment on the table. He'd wanted to join the Order the moment he turned seventeen, but his mother wasn't having any of it. He was barred from joining until he graduated.

It didn't seem fair to Ron. He was Harry's best friend; he'd been through a lot with him, had seen a lot. 

And I'm a Seer! he thought. Well, maybe I am, anyway. 

Ron started to reach for the parchment.

'Don't bother,' said George. 'Dumbledore sealed that thing and Mum's the only one who knows how to open it up.'

'Damn,' Ron muttered.

'Anything good in there?' Ginny asked, trying to sound casual.

'Nice try, sis,' said Fred. 'We're not allowed to say anything.'

'Oh, come on,' said Ron. 'After what Ginny and I went through a few weeks ago--'

'They're throwing out the old "what we've been through" card again,' said George.

'Damn them,' said Fred. He turned to Ron and Ginny.

'All right, we'll tell you a little bit,' said George. 'Lucius Malfoy's got his trial coming up, and Draco's supposed to testify.'

'Yeah, we know,' said Ginny. 'And Harry, too.'

'Right,' said Fred. 'Well, apparently, Draco's been holed up in St. Mungo's for psychological evaluation and counseling. Word on the street is that the Chief Prosecutor is nervous Draco may fall apart on the stand.'

'Which means the pressure will be on Harry to deliver,' said George. 

'Well, there's a surprise,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Harry under pressure.'

'I know, poor sod,' said Fred. 'And now he doesn't even have a girl to give him a Comfort Shag.'

'Fred!' said Ginny angrily. 'Honestly.'

'We saw Susan Bones yesterday, she came into the shop,' said George. 'She was with what's his name from Ravenclaw.'

'Terry Boot,' said Fred. 'Dodgy bloke, him.'

'They were looking rather cozy, too,' said George, shaking his head.

'Girl didn't waste much time,' said Fred, sighing.

'What the bloody hell's she doing with Terry Boot?' Ron demanded. 'She just broke up with Harry!'

'Women,' said George, shrugging. 'What can you do?'

'Horrible creatures, the lot of them,' said Fred.

'Oh, please,' said Ginny.

'I'm afraid that's all we're authorized to tell you,' said George. 'Now we really have to be going. Time is money and all that.'

'Cheers,' said Fred. 'And you might not want to tell Harry about Susan.' 

'Wasn't planning on it,' said Ron.

The twins took a handful of Floo Powder, shouted the address of their joke shop, and vanished into the green flames.

Ginny stared after them for a moment, then shook her head.

'Poor Harry,' she said. 

Ron grimaced. 

Poor Harry indeed. On top of everything, the girl who'd just dumped him was already seeing someone else. Would he ever get a break?

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Hi, everyone. I'm glad to see people are enjoying the story so far. It's been a while since I've written from Harry's perspective and I feel a bit rusty at it. Ron is easier to write, I think. In any case, please bear with me as I slog through this--I have a lot of good ideas buzzing in my head but I'm still not entirely sure how to structure everything.

Meanwhile, please note that it's already looking like this story is going to be a long one. Hopefully I can keep you all interested. This chapter is a bit chock full of stuff, but I really wanted to address a lot of Weasley family issues, especially Ron and Ginny. And I just couldn't resist bringing the Twins into things. 

As for Hermione, I must ask for your patience. She'll be in here soon--I just need to get Harry out of the Dursleys and to the Burrow first.


	4. Chapter Four: A Return to Family

_Chapter Four: A Return to Family_

The Dursleys' good mood at Harry finally leaving for good continued through those three days, to the point that they were practically civil to him. Well, at least by Dursley standards.

Uncle Vernon did get upset that Harry kept receiving owl post, but as his walrus face was only turning bright pink instead of purple, Harry took this as a sign of Uncle Vernon's good humour. Aunt Petunia only managed to sniff and purse her lips disapprovingly half a dozen times per day, rather than the usual fifty or so.

Dudley and Harry reached a kind of chilly detente in their relationship. This came about after Harry--who went out for a walk one evening to the play park--found Dudley with his gang. The lot of them were sitting behind a bush, reading dirty magazines and passing a cigarette between them. Except that it wasn't an ordinary cigarette, judging by the distinctive odor and the glazed, stupidly happy looks on the boys' faces. They'd seen Harry and all but Dudley had burst into gasping, uncontrollable laughter. Dudley managed to look scared and begged Harry not to tell his parents. Harry was awfully tempted to let slip to the Dursleys that their precious angel of a son was smoking marijuana, but in the end he agreed not to tell on his cousin. Dudley's parents wouldn't believe Harry anyway.

For his part, Harry was too wound up in his emotions to give the Dursleys a second thought. Between getting dumped by his girlfriend, having to testify at a Death Eater's trial, learning that he'd managed to actually injure Voldemort, and finally getting out of Number Four Privet Drive, Harry was quite simply a bit of a mess. 

His swirling emotions left him feeling tired and irritable, but as much as possible he avoided taking it out on the Dursleys. If they were going to make some small effort not to be totally awful to him, he decided he could be mature about it and do the same. So he didn't clomp heavily down the stairs in the mornings, or carry his wand in plain sight, or needle Dudley for the many silly nicknames his mother had given him. He went about his chores without complaint, and found that, in fact, the busywork kept his mind off things for a while. 

At night, however, everything would come roaring back. He slept badly, and his dreams were vivid and unsettling. He dreamt of Susan; in most dreams, they were snogging or having sex and she was smiling radiantly at him or moaning his name in his ear or telling him she loved him. He'd wake up happy and aroused and then find his bed empty and remember they weren't together anymore. Or he'd dream of that night in the Riddle House, and the way Voldemort threatened his friends. How Voldemort had nearly killed Hermione; how he'd taunted Ginny and how he'd ordered Snape to kill Ron. Or he'd dream of Sirius, falling through the veil and then sticking his head back out and laughing and saying 'Follow me, Harry!' and he'd start to follow his godfather but Hermione would leap in front of him and tell him not to go, and Lupin would grab his shoulders and hold him back. 

But for all his unsettled dreams and unsettled feelings, never once did Harry feel pain in his scar.

It was almost more unnerving than the constant twinges. At least when his scar hurt, Harry had some idea of what Voldemort was up to. This...silence was a bit frightening.

A few times, Harry tried using Legilimency, to see if he could make a mental connection with Voldemort, but his attempts didn't work. It was as if Voldemort had simply disappeared.

He hadn't, of course. Harry wasn't getting any sort of intelligence reports by post--owing, no doubt, to Lupin's warning that letters could easily go astray--but Harry had to assume that Lupin was right. Voldemort was in hiding, recovering from whatever wound Harry had dealt him, and eventually, the dark wizard would return. Again.

The other thing that Harry noticed was that his dreams--often so helpful in helping him figure out some of his own life's questions--weren't helping him in any way now. Every dream he had was related to some past event. He took comfort in the knowledge that he wasn't having dreams about murdered scientists or Death Eater attacks at the Ministry--at least that meant nothing was happening at the moment. But as Harry reflected, on the millionth time in three days, about Voldemort's injury, he couldn't help but wish he'd have a dream about that night that might tell him more about just how he managed to draw the dark wizard's blood.

My blood, he corrected himself.

And then, Harry reflected again on blood. Dumbledore had said that Harry's mother, in giving her life and shedding her blood for her son, had completed an ancient magic that protected Harry from the Killing Curse. And then there was the blood bond Harry shared with Aunt Petunia, blood that protected him so long as he lived under the Dursley's roof. 

Had Harry's blood protected Voldemort so far? He remembered what Lupin had told him.

_Somehow or other you managed to draw blood from Lord Voldemort. Something no one has been able to do since he returned._'

Harry considered. This certainly seemed to suggest that his blood had protected Voldemort from harm. But then, there was only one time Harry remembered seeing Voldemort fight with someone other than himself…

He thought back to that night in the Department of Mysteries.

The night Sirius was murdered…

Don't think about that.

Dumbledore and Voldemort had fought. 

Something about that fight tickled at Harry's memory. And then he remembered.

They hadn't just fought. They'd…talked.

Suddenly that conversation seemed to be very important. Harry hadn't thought about it for two years--he'd blocked out most memories from that awful night. But now…

What had they talked about? Voldemort had been taunting Dumbledore. 

Not surprising, thought Harry with a smirk. That's what Voldemort does best. Well, apart from murdering people and causing mayhem and spreading fear throughout the entire country.

But Dumbledore…he'd been so calm during the battle. Blocking Voldemort's curses and talking to him as though they were sitting in a pub sipping pints of ale. 

Dumbledore never hit him with a curse.

Harry's eyes, which had been squeezed shut in concentration, flew open. 

No, there was more to it than that. 

Dumbledore hadn't aimed the Killing Curse at Voldemort at all during their duel. 

_You don't seek to kill me, Dumbledore? Above such brutality, are you?_

Why didn't Dumbledore use the Killing Curse? He surely knew how to do it. 

The Prophecy, stupid. The Prophecy says only YOU have the power to kill Voldemort.

No, the power to destroy Voldemort.

_We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom. Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit--_

_There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!_

_You are quite wrong. Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness..._

Harry closed his eyes again, trying to understand what it all meant. 

What was worse than death?

Losing people you love comes pretty damn close, thought Harry sadly. He shook away thoughts of Sirius and refocused on the battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort.

Dumbledore didn't use the Killing Curse because of the Prophecy. But…surely Dumbledore was powerful enough to finish off Voldemort. That had to be at least one reason Voldemort feared Dumbledore. Wasn't it? Surely the Prophecy wasn't the only reason Dumbledore didn't try to finish Voldemort once and for all.

The Killing Curse rebounded onto Voldemort when he tried to use it on you. Because your mother's sacrifice protected you.

And now Voldemort had taken his, Harry's, blood. And if Dumbledore didn't even try to kill Voldemort, that had to mean…

Voldemort WAS protected by Harry's blood. By Lily Potter's blood.

But I hurt him…somehow, Harry thought. So mum's blood doesn't protect him from me. 

Harry groaned and looked at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was well after midnight. He sat up and climbed out of bed, restless and unable to sleep at all. In just a few hours he'd be leaving this house for good.

He found himself opening his trunk once again, to check that everything was packed, to see if he'd missed anything. He hadn't. His trunk had never been so neatly packed before, and everything, even his Firebolt, fit inside. He checked Hedwig's cage: it was spotless, and had been since she'd gone out to hunt and he'd cleaned it for the third time that day. He looked at the pile of letters on his desk. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had sent letters every day; Harry thought it was a bit of overkill on their part, but he couldn't help but appreciate the gesture. He just wished he could write Ron back and tell him that he was coming to the Burrow early for a change.

Harry quickly realized there was little for him to do BUT try and sleep. So he lay back down and closed his eyes. For a half hour he tossed and turned, but finally, the lack of sleep caught up with him, and he drifted off, the questions surrounding Voldemort's injury--and the cause of it--still humming in his brain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'POTTER!'

Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of his Uncle's enraged voice. He blinked, sat up groggily, and shook his head, reaching blindly for his glasses, which he'd left on his desk.

'HARRY POTTER!'

'Yeah, yeah,' Harry yelled, annoyed. So much for being slightly courteous; the Dursleys were clearly back in their normal mode of treating him horribly. He heard the gentle pressure of footsteps on the stairs and groaned; Uncle Vernon was probably going to beat down the door and demand he get downstairs to make breakfast.

Harry pulled on jeans and an oversized, Dudley t-shirt and ran a hand through messy black his hair when there was a knock at his door.

'WHAT?' Harry snapped.

The door creaked open, and Remus Lupin came in, followed by Nymphadora Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody.

'Good morning to you, too, Harry,' he said dryly. 'Obviously you're not at your best at this early hour.'

Harry flushed and looked down at his shoes. 'Sorry, Professor--Remus.'

Lupin smiled. 'It's all right. I'm hardly a morning person, myself.'

'Morning, Potter,' said Moody gruffly, as his magical eye began to spin, and then he gave a snort. 'Good lord, boy, how many times have I told you not to put your wand in your back pocket?'

'Sorry,' said Harry quickly, pulling his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. 'I forgot.'

'Young people these days,' Moody grumbled. 'They never listen.' He grunted and shifted his purple bowler hat. His entire clothing ensemble was in various shades of deepest purple.

'Wotcher, Harry,' said Tonks, grinning at him even as she rolled her eyes at Moody. Her hair was neon green and spiky today, and she wore black leather pants, motorcycle boots, and an old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

'I saw that,' said Moody. 

So,' Lupin asked, 'are you all packed?'

'Yeah, I'm packed,' he said eagerly. 'Can we go?'

'We can,' said Lupin. 'Tonks is going to take your things to the Burrow in her car. It'll be safer that way, might draw attention away from the fact that you're leaving today. We'll Portkey to the Burrow with Alastor, if that's all right with you.'

'Sure,' said Harry, 'I don't mind.' He paused. 'You think...someone might know about me leaving?'

'We have to assume you're being watched, Harry,' said Lupin. 'And not just by friendly people. That's why Moody's coming with us.'

'Right, then, let's get you out of here,' said Tonks.

She used a Levitating Charm on Harry's trunk, and Harry carried Hedwig's cage. She hooted contentedly.

'Yeah, we're finally leaving this place, girl,' Harry murmured. They started out of the room and headed for the stairs.

They reached the foot of the stairs to find the Dursleys there. Aunt Petunia's lips were as thin as Harry had ever seen them, and she seemed to be debating with herself as to whether Tonks or Moody looked more sartorially appalling. Uncle Vernon was pulling at his moustache and staring at Harry's floating trunk. The vein in his forehead was throbbing noticeably. Dudley stood behind his parents, and his stance suggested the careful, deliberate pose of somebody trying to cover up the fact that he is stoned out of his mind. 

Starting up a little early, aren't you, Big D? Harry thought sardonically. It wasn't even half past eight in the morning.

As Lupin headed toward the door, the Dursleys stepped back from him, as a single entity (Dudley blinked dazedly and stumbled just slightly). Lupin opened the door. Tonks lifted the Levitation Charm on the trunk, and took up one end of it as Lupin took up the other end.

'Well, then,' said Lupin genially. 'We'll just be going.'

'Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch,' said Tonks, beaming at the Dursleys sweetly.

Moody said nothing, but tipped up his bowler hat and revealed his magical eye; Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia both yelped, but Dudley stared at Moody for a moment, and then began to laugh, rather uncontrollably. For a long moment, everyone stared at Dudley as he laughed and clutched his stomach and pointed at Moody. Dudley laughed so hard that tears began to run down his face. Harry pursed his lips together tightly, to keep from laughing himself.

Moody grunted. 'Your son ought to lay off the weed,' he said, glaring at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley. 'He keeps smoking that stuff and he'll have no brain cells left. And he doesn't have that many to spare as it is.' 

He whirled round with a swirl of his purple coat, and hobbled out of the house, his wooden leg tapping on the front porch step.

Dudley, for his part, just kept laughing. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stared at their son in confusion.

Harry swallowed the laughter in his own throat and hurried out the door after Moody, and to catch up with Lupin and Tonks; Tonks was opening up the back seat of a very old, decrepit, rusted looking Mini; the paint job was such that the car was multiple colors.

'Close the door, Vernon!' Aunt Petunia hissed, but before Uncle Vernon could move, Dudley had lurched outside; he stumbled off the front porch step and sank onto his bottom, still pointing and laughing.

'Dudley, get inside!' Uncle Vernon snapped. But Dudley merely fell over onto his side, still laughing. Tonks and Lupin turned to see the commotion.

By now, several neighbors were exiting their houses, out for walks or on their way to work. Harry glanced back to see Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wide-eyed and open-mouthed as their neighbors began to stare at the spectacle in the front yard of Number Four Privet Drive. Dudley sprawled on the grass, rolling round and laughing his head off. A beat-up Mini in the drive. A woman dressed like a hooligan, and an old man with a wooden leg in a purple coat and bowler hat, and of course, Harry the Hoodlum, carrying his owl cage.

'Vernon, DO SOMETHING!' Aunt Petunia begged. She looked ready to faint.

'Oh, uh, hello!' Uncle Vernon called, waving to a couple in business suits and a pair of elderly women walking their terriers. They stared back at him as if he were standing there naked. 'Good morning!' he added, his voice wavering. 'Just...seeing off some relatives...from the country...abroad, I mean. They're...American!'

'Vernon,' said one of the old ladies, 'is your son...quite all right?'

'Oh, him!' said Uncle Vernon, waving his hand and forcing out a laugh. 'He's just...well, uh...'

'I just told him a really dirty limerick,' Tonks called. 'It's hilarious. D'you want to hear it? "There once was a man from Nantucket"--'

'Tonks!' Lupin scolded.

'Sorry,' she said, looking as though she weren't the least bit sorry. Lupin smiled at her.

'Dudley, get up,' Uncle Vernon growled, grabbing Dudley by the arm and trying to yank him off the ground.

'Dudley, get up THIS INSTANT!' Uncle Vernon barked. He looked up to see the neighbors all gawping at him.

'Is he having a fit, Vernon?' the other old lady called.

'He's fine,' Uncle Vernon said in a sing-song voice, even as he continued trying to yank his massive son off the ground. Through it all, Dudley continued to laugh.

'Vernon, get inside,' Aunt Petunia snapped.

'But what about Dudders--'  Dudley was still guffawing on the ground.

'Just LEAVE him,' Aunt Petunia hissed. 'Get inside!'

'Right,' said Uncle Vernon. 'Well, enjoy your day, everyone!' he added, waving at the neighbors and smiling bracingly. 'I'll just...leave Dudley out here to, er, get over his...er...'

'VERNON!'

'Right! Goodbye!' And with that, Uncle Vernon beat a hasty retreat into the house, and the door slammed shut behind him. Dudley kept on laughing and rolling round on the grass.

'Bloody moron,' Moody said, rolling his eyes. 'Kids these days...'

'All set, Harry?' Lupin called.

Harry, who'd been watching the whole scene and desperately trying not to laugh himself, nodded. The neighbors seemed to realize that the show was over. The two old women continued walking their dogs; they spoke with their heads together and kept pointing at Number Four Privet Drive. The married couple in business suits exchanged glances and stepped inside their Mercedes and drove off, presumably to work.

'Bring Hedwig here, we'll put her in the car, too,' said Lupin. 

Harry carried Hedwig's cage over to the beat up Mini; Hedwig took one look at it and hooted disapprovingly.

'I don't think she likes my car,' said Tonks, sighing. 

'That's a car?' said Moody. 'Looks like a tin can.'

'You're the one who suggested a car, Alastor,' Lupin pointed out. 'For security, if I recall correctly.'

Tonks performed a discreet Shrinking Spell on Harry's trunk--there was no other way for it to fit in the tiny car. Then she took Hedwig's cage and loaded it into the front passenger seat. Hedwig gave a doleful hoot; Harry leaned down to her cage.

'I'll see you soon, girl,' he said. 'You'll be okay. I promise.' Hedwig's yellow eyes swept over the car, their expression frankly doubtful.

'I promise,' said Harry again, though he had to wonder. The car looked about as bad as Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia. AFTER it had collided with the Whomping Willow.

'Right, then,' said Tonks. 'I'm off. I'll see you at the Burrow later, Harry.'

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'For your help...and everything.'

'You bet,' she said. Then she turned to Lupin, and they looked at one another. At once her expression softened, as did her voice. 'I'll see you later, Remus?'

Harry tried to look away--it was an intimate moment between his old professor and the young Auror. But he couldn't. He watched Lupin gaze at Tonks, and felt a sharp pang in his chest as Lupin took her hand.

'I'll see you tonight,' he said. 'Drive carefully. Under the speed limit this time.'

'All right, Dad,' said Tonks, rolling her eyes. Harry saw Lupin squeeze her hand, and then she climbed into the car. He'd almost expected the two of them to kiss each other goodbye, but perhaps they didn't think that sort of thing was appropriate to do in front of Lupin's former student and Tonks's colleague.

It didn't matter; in those brief seconds Harry saw in their eyes something that was painfully familiar. The expression of two people in love. 

I used to look like that, he thought sadly. Susan used to look at me like that...

He might have let his mind wander again, to Susan's auburn hair that she always wore in a plait, but that he loved to undo and run his hands through, to her pale skin, but then Tonks started up her car with a roar; fumes belched out from the exhaust pipe and there was a loud bang as the old vehicle backfired.

'Sorry!' Tonks called. ''Bye, all. See you soon!' And she tore backwards out of the driveway, turned the car around so fast it nearly blurred, and peeled off down the street in a screech of rubber.

'Somehow I don't think your admonishment to drive under the speed limit got through, Lupin,' said Moody dryly.

'It never does,' said Lupin. He turned to Harry. 'Let's get moving, shall we? There's a lot we have to do. We've got a Portkey, Harry--we'll go round back and use it from there. I don't think your relatives will mind.'

'What about this one?' said Moody, looking down disparagingly at Dudley, who by now was lying on the ground panting from the exhaustion of laughing so much.

'Leave him,' said Harry. 'Big D can take care of himself.'

Moody and Lupin exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed Harry to the back yard.

Once there, the first thing Harry noticed was that every curtain in the Dursley house had been drawn. He could only imagine what the neighbors might say or do when they saw Dudley sprawled out on the front law, half passed out and stoned out of his mind; Harry almost felt sorry for the Dursleys.

He looked at the place he'd lived in for the past sixteen years, and felt an odd sort of pang in his chest. It had never been a home to him, and yet now that he was leaving...

_You're not going to miss this place, for god's sake!_

_No, but it's the one place I'm most used to._

'You all right, Harry?' Lupin asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Just...I can't believe I'm really leaving.'

'Well, you are,' said Lupin, smiling. 'In less than a minute by my watch. Got your wand?'

Harry nodded and patted his front jeans pocket; his wand was tucked inside, and hidden beneath his overlarge shirt.

'Right, here's the Portkey,' said Lupin, extracting a small book from the pocket of his robes. 'Gather round.'

Harry and Moody moved in closer to Lupin; suddenly the hairs on the back of Harry's neck were standing up, and he felt a thrill of anticipation. He was leaving. Finally. Forever.

'Get ready,' said Lupin, looking at his watch and holding the book out with one hand. Harry and Moody reached their hands out toward the book.

'The Burrow,' said Lupin clearly. 'Three...two...one...NOW...'

Harry touched the book and felt it at once: the tug in his belly, just behind his navel. His feet flew off the neatly mowed lawn of the Dursley property, and he was spinning in a whirl of colour and sound.

In the next instant, it was over, and Harry's feet slammed back to earth, so hard that he stumbled. Moody landed next to him and groaned out loud.

'Hate Portkeys,' he rasped. 'Horrible way to travel.'

'Yes,' Lupin agreed, flattening his hair with his hand. 'Sometimes I think Muggles have the right idea with cars and planes.'

Harry wasn't listening to them. He was staring up at the house that had become his second home, and all of a sudden he felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed against it, unfamiliar with the new emotion. He'd always thought tears were for sad occasions, but staring up at that ramshackle, haphazardly built house, Harry suddenly felt like crying for joy.

'Harry!'

The female voice, made him blink, and he turned, just slightly, to see a slightly plump, red haired figure rushing toward him. It was Mrs. Weasley.

Harry barely had time to react before Mrs. Weasley was throwing her arms round him.

'Oh, Harry dear!' she cried. 'I'm so glad you're here! Thank goodness!'

She hugged him again, nearly crushing him. He felt light-headed.

'Mum, you're choking him,' said a familiar voice.

Mrs. Weasley let go of him and moved on to hug Lupin, and Harry saw Ron striding across the garden.

'Hiya, Harry,' he said, grinning.

'Hey, Ron,' said Harry. The two of them looked at one another for a moment, and before Harry really knew what was happening, they hugged. A fast, masculine sort of hug with plenty of back-slapping to go with it.

'Good to see you, mate,' said Ron, coughing and running a hand through his red hair, which was cut very short.

'You, too,' said Harry. 'Nice hair.'

'Ha ha,' said Ron, and he leaned in close. 'Just stay away from Mum if she has scissors in her hand, or you'll be next.'

'Hi, Harry.'

Harry turned slightly at the sound of a second female voice.

'Hey, Ginny.'

She stepped forward and hugged him, and he hugged her back. 

'It's good to see you,' he said, letting go of her. 

'You, too,' she replied.

'Harry, let's get you inside and get you some breakfast,' Mrs. Weasley said, and she hurried toward the kitchen, with Lupin and Moody in tow.

'Excellent,' said Ron. 'I'm starving.'

'What else is new?' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. Ron mussed her hair, and she swatted him on the arm. They laughed, and Harry laughed with them.

The siblings started toward the house, and Harry watched them go for a moment. His feet seemed to be rooted to the spot. He still couldn't quite believe he was here.

'Harry?' said Ginny, turning round to look at him. 'Are you coming?'

'Yeah,' he said. 'Yeah.'

She smiled at him, and in that moment he felt better than he had in days. He might have been dumped by Susan. He might have to testify in a nasty trial. And Voldemort was still out there. But seeing Ginny smile at him, seeing Ron going into the house, smelling the first aromas of Mrs. Weasley's cooking...Harry was away from Privet Drive, and with his friends. His family. 

The bad stuff could wait a while.


	5. Chapter Five: An Unexpected Visitor

_Chapter Five: An Unexpected Visitor_

_'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'_

_The red haired woman threw her body in front of the bassinet; tears ran down her face, but her brilliant green eyes were fiery with defiance._

_'Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside now...' _

_The dark wizard wore a hood, and it obscured his features; his right hand was outstretched, his wand pointing at the woman's throat._

_'Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead...have mercy...'_

_The red haired woman closed her eyes, opened them...and they were bright brown, not green..._

'Avada Kedavra!'

_A flash of green light shot from the dark wizard's wand, striking the woman in the chest. She managed to scream as the spell struck her, flinging her backward..._

Ron sat up sharply in bed, breathing heavily. He was in his room; it was a week into Harry's stay at the Burrow.

'Ron?'

Ron blinked and shook his head. 

'Ron, are you okay?'

A light switched on in the bedroom, and Ron squinted, turning his head in the direction of Harry's voice. Slowly, the black haired boy came into focus; he had put on his glasses and was gazing at Harry with concerned eyes. Brilliant green eyes...

'I'm fine,' said Ron at once, blinking again. 'Just...a bad dream.'

A bad dream about a woman with eyes just like Harry. Harry's mother...

And Voldemort. Voldemort killing her. But just before she died, her eyes were brown, not green...

'Ron?'

'I'm fine,' Ron repeated. 'Sorry I woke you.'

'You sure you're okay?' said Harry. 'Look, I've got some Dreamless Sleep Draught if you need it--'

'No,' said Ron quickly. 'No thanks, that stuff leaves me groggy.' Without thinking he reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out his quill and dream diary and opened it.

'What are you doing?' 

Ron froze and looked at Harry. 'Uh...just...well...homework,' he said lamely.

'Homework?' said Harry.

'Yeah, you know, the dream diary,' said Ron quickly, his mind buzzing to come up with. 'For Divination--'

'Ron, we don't take Divination anymore,' said Harry pointedly.

'Right, we don't,' said Ron, wanting to kick himself.' But, well, I was sort of thinking...uh...you know, taking it again...maybe...' 

'Ron,' said Harry.

'What?'

'You're a really shitty liar,' said Harry.

Ron's shoulders sagged. 

'Tell me,' Harry demanded. 'What's going on with you? You think I haven't noticed you writing in that thing every time you wake up? You have weird dreams all the time, you talk in your sleep--'

'I do?' said Ron, horrified.

'Yeah, you do,' said Harry.

'Shit,' said Ron, burying his face in his hands. 'Sorry. Sorry. I've been keeping you awake, haven't I?'

'Not all the time,' said Harry. 'I'm a pretty heavy sleeper; it's generally only when you yell that I wake up.'

Ron groaned. 'Look, I'm sorry. I...I can't help it. My stupid dreams are really vivid and--'

'So take some Dreamless Sleep Draught,' said Harry. 'I know Madam Pomfrey gave you some.'

'I can't take that stuff,' said Ron. 'I can't.'

'Why not?' said Harry, bewildered. 'You need sleep, Ron--you don't need to have dreams all the time--'

'Yeah, I do,' said Ron sharply. 

Harry stared at Ron. 'What are you talking about?' he asked.

'Shit,' said Ron again. 'I didn't want to tell you--'

'Tell me what?'

'You already have enough crap to deal with, you don't need my problems on top of it--'

'Just tell me, would you?'

'It's nothing--'

'Ron!' Harry yelled. 'Tell me or I'll hex you into next week.'

'You can't use magic outside of school yet,' Ron retorted.

'Watch me,' said Harry, and he yanked his wand from beneath his pillow and held it up.

Ron scowled. 'Fine,' he said. 'I didn't want to tell you because...because I didn't want to bother you with it--'

'Bugger that,' said Harry. 'We're mates, okay? Mates tell each other stuff. And maybe knowing about your problems will keep my mind off my own.'

Ron looked at Harry and swallowed.

'I hadn't thought about it that way,' said Ron.

'Of course you haven't,' said Harry, folding his arms across his chest. 'You and Ginny are too busy fussing over me--'

'We don't fuss,' said Ron defensively.

'No, you just make sure I don't have a moment to sit down,' said Harry. 'I know what you're doing. Trying to keep me busy so I don't have time to brood about...her, and about the trial and about Voldemort.'

'Well, excuse us for looking out for you--'

'I never said I didn't appreciate it,' said Harry. 'I do. And...yeah, okay, it stinks and I get depressed but...shit, Ron, if I didn't off myself over Sirius and my parents I'm not going to off myself over Susan.'

Ron pursed his lips. It was the first time Harry had said Susan's name since he'd arrived. It was, in fact, the first time Harry had even mentioned her, but not, Ron knew the first time he'd thought about her. One day while they were attempting to do one of their seven Potions essays, Ron had gotten up to make tea and saw Harry gazing at a photograph of himself and a familiar looking auburn-haired girl. Harry had felt Ron's eyes on him and had quickly shut the book, and neither of them had said a word about it. And it was true--he and Ginny had rather gone out of their way to fill Harry's days with as much activity as possible, whether it was degnoming the garden, flying on their brooms and practicing Quidditch moves, or heading down to the lake for a swim. 

'Are we that obvious?' Ron asked sheepishly.

'Blatantly,' said Harry. 'Subtle isn't in your vocabulary, you know.'

Ron laughed. 'That's what Ginny said.'

'Ginny's a smart girl, then,' said Harry. 'But enough about me. Tell me what this is all about.'

Ron swallowed. 'Okay,' he said. 'But if I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh or freak out or get shirty, all right?'

'Why would I--'

'Just promise?'

'Okay.'

Ron took a deep breath. 'So, uh, when you were out of it in the hospital wing this last time, I had a talk with Dumbledore. About you, for a bit...you know, about your mental thing with Voldemort. He said that I got through to you when...when Voldemort got inside your head that time, and that's why he couldn't possess you.'

'I know all that,' said Harry.

'Yeah, well, we got to talk about...me, too,' said Ron. 'Remember, that room in the Riddle House where we found the book, and...and I acted all weird about it?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I...I'd had a dream about that room, and the book being there and...I'd been having other dreams, too, about Eddie, and in the dreams Eddie changed into Bellatrix Lestrange, only I didn't know that's what was happening, I just thought they were bad dreams...and last summer I had these visions. You know, from the brain attack thing...and...well...Dumbledore thinks it's possible I could be...'

Ron's voice trailed off. Every time he said it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. Far more ridiculous than just thinking about it.

'What?' Harry urged.

'A Seer,' Ron mumbled.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Ron stared at his large hands for several seconds, then looked up at Harry, whose eyes were wide.

'You think it sounds crazy, don't you?' said Ron.

'I...I dunno,' said Harry. 'I mean...well...it's a bit...weird, isn't it?'

'It may not be true,' said Ron quickly. 'Dumbledore isn't really sure--he just asked me to explore the possibility. That's why I'm writing in this diary, see. Trying to figure out if my dreams mean anything.'

'Do they?'

Ron groaned. 'I don't know. I mean, I've written everything down as carefully as I can and I look over the damn thing a lot, you know, because Dumbledore wants me to look for patterns and recurring themes and what but...it just seems barmy, doesn't it? Me, a Seer?'

Harry eyed Ron as though he was considering. 'Not necessarily,' he said. 

'Yeah, well,' said Ron, 'the only reason I'm exploring this at all is because it could be helpful for you. You know, with...with fighting Voldemort.'

Harry nodded. 'I'll need all the help I can get on that one.'

'Yeah, well, I'm not sure how having sex dreams about my girlfriend is helpful to you,' said Ron, without thinking.

'Oi, Ron, too much information,' said Harry, holding up his hands.

'Sorry.'

'Now that you mention it, though, you were yelling her name the other night,' said Harry. 'Bloody disturbing way for me to wake up.'

'Shut up.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Harry and Ron revisited the topic of Ron's potential Seer gifts only long enough to both agree not to tell Ginny as of yet. It wasn't Harry's place to do so, and Ron wasn't ready for her to know.

But even as they both got dressed for another day of seemingly endless degnoming, Ron couldn't help but remember the woman in his dream from the night before. Harry's mother, with her green eyes. But then her eyes had been bright brown, the same brown as Ginny's...and Voldemort had hit her with a Killing Curse...

Ron shuddered as he followed Harry out of his room and down the stairs, and pushed the image of the dream from his mind. There were good things to think about today, and he'd think on those instead. They'd have a swim later--it was already gearing up to be a sweltering day--and play Quidditch in the early evening, before dinner. Then some chess or Gobstones later that night. They'd tried to devote some evenings to homework, but without Hermione there to nag them it was nearly impossible to stay focused.

And of course, there was Hermione to think about. She'd be coming to the Burrow soon--in just under a week.

Harry received a second visit from Lupin that day, informing him of the trial date for Lucius Malfoy: 24 July. The very day Hermione was to arrive. Harry was to visit with the Chief Prosecutor on the evenings of 28 and 29 July for witness preparation, in which the Chief Prosecutor would go over all the questions he planned to ask Harry on the stand. 

Ron had planned to start Apparition training right after the Burrow wards had been completed, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley agreed that it might be better for him to wait until after Harry testified; then, Ron and Harry could do the training together. Ron was fine with this; he was in no hurry to start training (he'd heard plenty of horror stories from his brothers about splinching) and he hadn't much relished the idea of leaving Harry by himself in the evenings, anyway.

The boys and Ginny received frequent postcards and letters from Hermione.

According to her, the holiday with her parents was going along swimmingly; the South of France was beautiful and the weather fine; the food was divine; her parents were healthy and still had no memory of being attacked by Death Eaters. She'd been reading _The Daily Prophet and was horrified to learn that Harry was being called as a witness in the trial. Hermione didn't know that Harry had left the Dursleys, as that information was being kept quiet; thus her letters were also filled with indignation that Harry was stuck with those 'horrible people.' Of course there were the usual reminders to stay on top of their homework, and the usual declarations of how much she missed them, and how she couldn't wait to come to the Burrow and see him and everyone else. _

Ron thought about her constantly, but thoughts of her were mixed up now with thoughts of Harry. It wouldn't be the same this time when Hermione came. Before, both Ron and Harry had girlfriends. Now, only Ron did. They'd somehow managed to deal with this at school, when Harry was surrounded by a lot of other supportive people, but now it would only be the four of them, and Ron couldn't really bear the idea of leaving Harry by himself just so Ron could go find some time for a shag with Hermione.

All told, it was bound to be an awkward situation. 

Meanwhile, life went on. Mr. Weasley was spending inordinate amounts of time at work and going on raids. There had been two dozen of them, on various Malfoy properties and the homes of those who'd been known to associate with the Malfoy family. Thus far, physical evidence had been scarce to nothing. Mrs. Weasley would disappear for most of each day, presumably doing Order business; she returned at lunch time long enough to prepare stacks upon stacks of sandwiches, and then leave again, coming back at dinner time. Percy, too, was spending long hours at work, but it seemed to Ron to be more of a way for Percy to avoid their mother's constant fussing over him, rather than any kind of need or desire on Percy's part to be at work. As the days went on Percy spent less and less of his free time at the Burrow, and more and more time with his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater. Ron couldn't blame him--at least when a girlfriend took care of you there was usually shagging involved.

The twins visited only once, to show Harry some new merchandise and give him an early birthday present of their best trick sweets, including a sweet called Hirsute Honeycombs, a sticky-sweet honey candy that caused one to sprout copious amounts of hair from the ears and nose and other body parts. Harry ate one and spent a good fifteen minutes looking like a skinny yeti before the effect wore off. Charlie wrote a few times from abroad--he was still in Romania, but making trips to various countries in Eastern Europe. Ron surmised the trips were Order business.

Bill, meanwhile, was back at his Gringott's desk job--he'd been asked by Dumbledore to return as the Dark Arts teacher but had declined. He'd stopped by one night with his girlfriend, Fleur Delacour, to announce their engagement. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and went into a frenzy of cooking, and the evening turned into an impromptu celebration. 

All told, things were about as good as they could be, in the circumstances, and before Ron, Harry or Ginny realized it, the date of Lucius Malfoy's trial was almost upon them. 

Two nights before the trial began, Mr. Weasley was working with a few of the officers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, along with the Chief Prosecutor, in finalizing the details of the case against Malfoy. Percy, too, was stuck at work, helping Mr. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley resigned herself to another night without her husband or her injured son at home; she made dinner, and she, Ron, Harry and Ginny ate slowly and quietly. It was some time later, past nine o'clock, when they had pudding. They were halfway into strawberry tart when there was a loud pop in the fireplace.

'Oh, for heaven's sake--' Mrs. Weasley began.

'Molly!' said an unfamiliar female voice. The four of them turned in their chairs to see themselves looking at the head of a black-haired, pink-faced witch.

'Hestia?' said Mrs. Weasley.

'Oh, dear, Molly, I'm so sorry for interrupting your dinner,' said Hestia. 'I'm afraid something of an emergency has come up and Dumbledore is asking for you to come to Headquarters right away.'

'Oh, goodness,' said Mrs. Weasley with a sigh. 'Are you sure it can't wait, Hestia?'

'I'm terribly sorry, but no,' said Hestia. 'Dumbledore asked for you specifically.'

'Very well,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'What's the problem, anyway?'

'I'm not at liberty to say right now,' said Hestia apologetically. 'And...it looks like it could take a while.'

'How long?' said Mrs. Weasley.

'Possibly all night,' said Hestia.

'All night?' Mrs. Weasley shrieked. 'Hestia, I'm happy to help out Dumbledore but there's no way I'm leaving these three'--she indicated Ron, Harry and Ginny--'alone in the house without an adult present.'

'Mum, I AM of age,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. 'Technically I'm an adult. And Harry's almost--'

'You're still in school,' Mrs. Weasley snapped. 'And after everything that happened at the end of last term--'

'Molly, wait,' said Hestia quickly. 'It's all right. Madam Bones has authorized Sturgis Podmore and Kenneth Towler to patrol the grounds of the Burrow for you. And Dumbledore promised he would fetch the kids himself at the first sign of a problem.'

Mrs. Weasley frowned, as though considering.

'Mum,' said Ron, 'come on. We'll be fine. Dumbledore wouldn't have asked for you if he didn't think we'd be safe here. Nobody can Apparate through those wards, remember?'

She looked at Ron sceptically for a moment, then nodded.

'All right, then,' she said, and she turned to the witch called Hestia. 'I'll be there shortly, Hestia.'

'Thanks again, Molly, so sorry about this,' said Hestia, and in the next moment there was a whoosh of smoke, and she was gone.

Mrs. Weasley didn't leave right away; instead she fussed for the next fifteen minutes over Ron, Harry and Ginny, ordering them to stay inside the house and to keep their wands with them at all times. Then she went rushing round the house sealing up all the windows and doors--Ron helped--and she ordered Ron to seal up the fireplace after she'd gone.

After several more minutes of fussing and worrying, Mrs. Weasley took a handful of Floo Powder, threw it into the fireplace, and shouted 'Number 12 Grimmauld Place' before stepping into the green flames and vanishing.

'I thought she'd never leave,' said Ginny. 'So, Ron, d'you know where Dad keeps his stash of firewhisky?'

'Ha ha,' said Ron sarcastically. 'I guess I'd better try and seal up this fireplace.'

He reached up inside the fireplace and shut the flue, then performed a Sealing Charm on it for good measure. It wouldn't be totally foolproof but anyone trying to get in would make a lot of noise and alert Ron and the others to any intrusions.

With little to do but study or play games, Ron, Harry and Ginny chose homework. Ron and Harry both were starting to panic a bit about the amount of homework they still had to do; Ron determined that it was almost physically impossible for him to get work done without Hermione there to urge him on. They settled down in the living room with their books, quills and parchment, and for two hours there was nothing but the sound of the scratching of quills. At one point there was a knock on the window outside the kitchen, and the three of them leapt up, wands drawn. The tapping on the window had come from Sturgis Podmore, however, and he waved at them and nodded, indicating that he was simply patrolling by the house for the moment.

'This isn't as fun as I thought it would be,' said Ginny glumly.

They went back to their homework, but after another hour, all three of them were struggling to stay awake. Near midnight, they all gave up.

'I'm knackered,' Ron announced. 'Can't take any more of this. I'm turning in.'

'Me, too,' said Harry.

'Sounds good to me,' said Ginny, and she yawned and stretched. 

The three of them trooped wearily up the stairs; Ginny mumbled a good night to both of them before going into her room, and Ron and Harry continued up the stairs. They changed into pyjamas, brushed their teeth, and collapsed into bed. Ron fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow; his last thought before dropping off was that he hoped he didn't dream tonight. One night of uninterrupted sleep would be just grand, thank you.

At close to two in the morning, Ron sat up sharply in bed, but it was not a dream that woke him this time. It was a sound. A very loud clang, followed by the sound of something scraping against metal.

'Harry!' Ron hissed, as he reached beneath his pillow and pulled out his wand.

'What?' said Harry, half-asleep, as he, too, sat up in bed.

'Listen,' Ron whispered. And there it was. More scraping.

'What is that?' Harry hissed, and he had his wand in hand now, too.

'I dunno, but it sounds like it might be coming from downstairs,' Ron said softly.

'Should we go take a look?' said Harry, and Ron could hear the tightness in his voice.

'I reckon we should,' said Ron, and he felt a rush of fear for Ginny, whose room was a floor below and closer to whatever it was that was making noise downstairs.

'_Lumos,_' Ron whispered, and Harry followed suit; both their wand tips glowed faintly as they climbed out of their beds and started toward Ron's door. They were halfway there when it swung open.

'Shit!' Harry yelled.

'_Stupefy!_' Ron snapped, firing a spell at the intruder.

'Ron!' came a familiar voice, and Ginny ducked out of the way, just in time. Ron's charm bounced against the wall harmlessly.

'Ron!' Ginny hissed furiously. 'You idiot! What the bloody hell are you doing? You could have hurt me--'

'Ginny!' Ron hissed, at the same time. 'What the bloody hell are you doing? I could have hurt you--'

'Quiet, both of you!' Harry snapped, stepping between them. 

Ron and Ginny glared at one another.

'Listen,' Harry whispered. More scraping. It was definitely coming from downstairs. It was definitely something scraping against metal. The three of them walked in a clump out Ron's door and headed halfway down the stairs, all of them straining their ears toward the sound.

'Sounds like...' Ginny began.

'Something's in the fireplace,' Ron said.

'A bird, or a squirrel, you think?' said Harry, in a doubtful voice.

'Maybe,' said Ron, but he didn't really believe that.

'Maybe we should just stay up here,' said Ginny nervously, 'and let Sturgis and that Auror deal with it.'

'Those two could be anywhere on the grounds right now,' said Ron, shaking his head. 'Why don't we--'

WHOOSH!

As one, the three of them flattened themselves against the wall and held out their wands. 

'Shit,' said Ron. 'I think...someone just Flooed in.'

'Maybe it's Mum,' said Ginny.

'Shh,' said Harry. 'Listen...'

They heard it. Someone coughing, the sound of hands brushing soot from clothing, the light press of footsteps on the floor. And then a voice, a croaking, hoarse voice.

'H-hello?'

'Who is that?' Ginny whispered.

'How should I know?' Ron hissed.

'Whoever it is, if they were trying to kill us they wouldn't announce themselves,' Harry murmured.

'We don't know that,' said Ginny. 'They could be trying to trick us.'

'Look, let's just...go down there and take whoever it is out, okay?' said Ron. 'I'll go first. That way maybe you two don't have to use magic and you won't get in trouble.'

'Oh, right,' said Ginny, 'so you can miss again?'

'I'm sorry about that,' Ron snapped, 'but maybe you should have said who you were before you charged into my room--'

'Are the two of you going to keep arguing or are we going to go downstairs and deal with whatever's down there?' Harry growled in a low voice.

Ginny opened her mouth to start to speak, then shut it.

'Sorry,' she mumbled.

'Sorry,' said Ron.

'Fine,' said Harry. 'Let's go.' He started down the stairs.

'Hey,' said Ron, grabbing Harry's shirt collar. 'I go first. You and Ginny cover me. All right?'

'Whatever,' said Harry. They started down the stairs and reached the landing just past Ginny's room when the intruder spoke again.

'Hello?' came the voice from downstairs. It was a bit stronger but still very hoarse. And yet, strangely familiar...

'Wait a minute...' said Ron, holding out his arm to stop Harry and Ginny. The intruder spoke again.

'R-Ron?'

Ron nearly dropped his wand. 

'Hermione?' he croaked, and without thinking he raced down the stairs.

'Ron!' Harry yelled, and he and Ginny hurried after him.

As he hurried into the living room, Ron considered, for a very fleeting second, that perhaps he ought not to have done this--just because the voice _sounded_ like it belonged to Hermione didn't necessarily mean that it _was_ Hermione.

And yet as he hurtled into the living room, she came racing round the fireplace, her bushy hair flying in every direction, and barreled into him, throwing her arms round his neck. He caught her lilac scent and felt the small muscles of her back as he wrapped his arms round her waist, and knew at once that it was her.

'Ron!' she cried again, and then he felt her shaking in his arms.

'Hermione?' Harry and Ginny said together, as they closed in on Ron and Hermione. 

'What are you doing here?' Harry asked.

'What's going on?' said Ginny.

Hermione gave a great sniff and pulled back; her face was coated with soot and tears were streaking down her cheeks.

'Hermione,' Ron gasped, his emotions in a whirl; he was deliriously happy to see her, and confused, and afraid. Why was she here? Alone? In the middle of the night? 

He fought to control himself--she was sobbing and shaking and a complete mess. By now, Harry and Ginny were both putting steadying hands on her arms as Ron gripped her shoulders.

'Hermione,' Ron said again, in a firmer voice. 'What's wrong, love?'

'They're g-going to t-take me out of H-Hogwarts!' Hermione stammered, her voice coming in gasps. 

'What?' said Harry and Ginny together.

'Who's taking you out of Hogwarts?' said Ron.

'My p-parents!' Hermione wailed, and she threw herself at Ron again, burying her face in his chest. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: And it's an evil cliffhanger. Mwwwwaaaa ha ha ha ha! Just kidding. Don't worry--the next chapter will be up soon.**


	6. Chapter Six: A Reunion

_Chapter Six: A __Reunion___

Ron gaped at Harry and Ginny as he put his arms round his girlfriend's violently trembling shoulders. Harry and Ginny exchanged glances and shrugged.

'It's h-horrible!' Hermione sobbed, her voice muffled against Ron's t-shirt.

'Slow down, love,' Ron said, now genuinely frightened. 'You're going to make yourself sick.' 

'Ron, I don't want to go...' Hermione bawled.

'What's she on about?' Harry asked. Hermione's response was to let out another wail.

'I'll talk to her,' Ron said. 'Hermione?'

She clung to him tighter. Harry and Ginny stared at Ron and Hermione, clearly at a loss for what to do.

'Hermione, love, it's okay,' said Ron, in as soothing a voice as he could muster. 'I'm here. We're all here. You're okay. Just...calm down, okay? Let's...go sit on the sofa.'

He gently turned himself and Hermione in the direction of the sofa and steered her toward it.

'Ginny,' he said, over his shoulder, 'uh...could you make some tea?'

'Right!' said Ginny, straightening up and heading for the kitchen. 'Tea.'

'I'll help,' said Harry at once, giving Ron a bewildered look before following Ginny into the kitchen.

Ron sat Hermione down gently on the sofa.

'Hermione?' he said, still gripping her shoulders. 'Look at me.'

She did, and her sobs quieted, a little.

'Now,' he said, 'start from the beginning, and tell me what happened. Can you do that?'

Hermione nodded, her bushy hair bobbing. She sniffed and took a deep breath.

'I was on holiday with Mum and Dad,' she said, and her voice was stronger. 'We were in Provence this morning, we were visiting some of the shops in town. We stopped to have coffee at a little outdoor café and suddenly there was this big commotion down the street. It was Death Eaters, Ron! They attacked us--'

'What?' said Ron, horrified. 'Are you all right, are you hurt?'

'I'm f-fine,' Hermione stammered. 'They didn't reach us. When I saw who they were I told my parents to run, to stay with me and to run, and we did, we ran away, and I had my wand out and I was all set to...to fight if it came to that...but it didn't. We went round the corner and there were some Aurors there. Or, at least, I think they were--they were French so whatever the French call Aurors--I should know the word by now, I've been working on my French constantly--'

'Hermione,' Ron interrupted gently, 'skip that part. What happened next?'

'Right,' she said, taking another deep breath as she worried her hands. 'So, these French Aurors came and one of them said, "Monsieur and Madame Granger, Mademoiselle Granger, come with me!" They knew who we were, Ron.'

'How'd they know that?' Ron asked.

'I'm getting to that,' Hermione said testily, 'don't interrupt.'

'Sorry,' said Ron quickly.

'So I followed the one Auror,' Hermione went on, 'and she pulled us into this alleyway and then she grabbed the lid of a bin and made it into a Portkey--or whatever the French equivalent is--and...and told us to grab the Portkey, so we did, and we got out of there and ended up at Grimmauld Place. And Dumbledore was there, and Lupin and Tonks and Snape and all these other people I didn't know. And my parents were completely panicking, they didn't know what was going on, my dad kept yelling and my mum was crying all over the place. Dumbledore told everyone to calm down. He said that he had a friend at the French Ministry of Magic and that they were watching us, making sure we were safe, in case of any attacks. Then...he told my parents that he needed to speak with them. So...so he went downstairs to the kitchen with them, and I went...I wasn't going to at first, Dumbledore didn't want me to, but I begged to come along so he let me. Only...only n-now...I wish I hadn't...'

Her eyes filled with tears again and she broke down and sank against him.

'Hey, hey,' Ron whispered, pulling her close. 'It's okay, I'm here. Harry and Ginny are here...'

At that moment, Ginny and Harry appeared with tea and biscuits.

'Tea's ready,' Ginny announced. 'I made some of Mum's special stuff.'

'Mum's Special Stuff' was a sleeping tea. Ron mouthed a silent thanks to Ginny; Ginny and Harry sat down in chairs opposite Ron and Hermione.

'Hermione,' Ron whispered against her hair. 'It's okay. Go on.'

She sat back and wiped her eyes and cheeks, taking soot away as she did so. 'Dumbledore told my parents, Ron. He told them everything. All about what we've done in school, about Harry and Voldemort and...and everything.'

At this, Ron, Harry and Ginny all blanched.

'Dumbledore spilled everything?' said Harry, amazed. 

'Well, not every little thing, but everything that related to us, yes,' said Hermione. 'He decided my parents had a right to know what we've been up to in school, see? My parents, they've always tried to ask me about it but I could never tell them, or at least, I didn't think I was supposed to. But after the attack Dumbledore thought they deserved the truth.'

'But I thought Muggles weren't supposed to know about Voldemort,' said Ginny.

'Dumbledore told my parents they were a special case,' said Hermione, laughing bitterly. 'But...but I almost wish he hadn't told them. I wish he'd just given them a couple of bloody Memory Charms!'

'What? Why?' said Ron. 'Hermione, maybe it's better that your parents know; you're always telling me how hard it is that they don't understand--'

'Don't you see, Ron?' Hermione snapped. 'Now my parents know what sort of danger I get in all the time. They're furious. They're livid that I've been hanging around Harry because he's Voldemort's number one target, and they're furious that I hang around with you and Ginny and they're really, really angry about what happened this past term--'

'Dumbledore told them about THAT, too?' said Harry, shocked.

'I told you, Dumbledore told them everything about me!' Hermione said shrilly. 'And they're angry with Dumbledore for, as they put it, lying to them and putting me in danger. Dumbledore tried to explain to them that they're in danger, too, and...and that Hogwarts is the safest place for me to be...but...but my parents...they didn't believe him...and now...now they want to take me out of Hogwarts...and...and they don't want me using magic anymore!'

'What?' Ron shouted. 'They can't do that!'

'Ron,' said Ginny, giving him a pointed look, as if to say, _You're__ supposed to be the calm one here._

'Sorry,' said Ron quickly.

'Hermione,' said Harry. 'I'm sure your parents are just...overreacting, because of the attack.'

'Maybe...Dumbledore or somebody else could do those Memory Charms on them,' Ginny suggested timidly.

'Believe me, I asked Dumbledore to do that,' said Hermione miserably. 'But he said that they were my parents, and because I'm not of age, they have a right to decide my future.'

'What?' said Ron, appalled. 'So...Dumbledore's just going to let them yank you out of school and make you give up being a witch?'

'For god's sake, Ron,' Ginny muttered, throwing up her hands. She rolled her eyes at her brother and poured a big mug of tea for Hermione.

'He said he wouldn't give up trying to convince them,' said Hermione sadly. 'He got them to agree to wait another twenty four hours before they made up their minds, and he told them...well, a lot of nice things about me, and he kept saying over and over again that Hogwarts was the safest place for me.'

Ron let out a breath. 'Okay,' he said, feeling a bit calmer. 'So, your parents will calm down and think about it, then. It doesn't mean they'll pull you out of school, Hermione.'

'I keep telling myself that,' she said tearfully. 'But...what if they do pull me out of Hogwarts, and make me give it up?'

'Hermione, you'll be seventeen in September,' said Harry. 'You'll be of age, and you can do whatever you want. You're the cleverest witch in the bloody country at this point. If they pull you out of school you'll miss three weeks of it--'

'--and you can just...put yourself right back in there and make us all look like academic dunces again,' said Ron. 

'B-but...they're my parents,' said Hermione. 'How could I do that to them? Go against them like that?'

'Hermione,' said Ron slowly, 'your parents are in danger, remember? They got attacked last spring and almost got attacked this morning. You can't help them if you don't use your magic. And...you're way too good at it to give it up.'

'He's right, Hermione,' said Ginny, folding her arms across her chest. 'That's a rare thing, by the way, Ron being right. So you might as well listen to him.'

'Ha ha,' said Ron, but he smiled at Ginny all the same.

Hermione looked up at Ginny, then at Harry, and finally at Ron, and at last, she smiled weakly. She sniffed again and wiped her face once more.

'Drink some of that tea, Hermione,' said Ginny gently, 'before it gets cold.'

'No, thank you,' said Hermione. 'I appreciate it but your mother's special tea makes me groggy in the morning.'

'Busted,' said Ginny, shrugging. 'Well, it was a thought. You're sure you'll be okay, Hermione?'

'I'm better now, thanks,' she said. 'Really. And I'm sorry I scared everyone. I just...I had to get away, I had to see you...'

She looked at Ron then, and Ron swallowed; she was giving him one of her private looks, a look she had only for him.

'Hermione,' said Harry, 'you snuck out, didn't you?'

She nodded. 'It was the only way I could get here,' she said. 'Took me forever to get through the stupid fireplace, that was a very good Sealing Charm--'

'If your parents find you gone and they don't know where you are--' Ginny warned.

'I left them a note, and one for your mum,' said Hermione. 

'You'll be in big trouble tomorrow,' said Ron.

'I don't care,' said Hermione. 'I wanted to be here. Whatever happens tomorrow...I'll deal with it tomorrow.'

'All right,' said Ginny. 'We'll help you deal with it.'

'We'll find a way to convince them, Hermione,' said Harry. 'Don't worry.'

She smiled again at them, tears in her eyes once more, and then she put her arms around Ron and sank against him. He held her close to him, his heart and his mind racing as his fingers stroked her hair. Suddenly there was only her, and he was happy and scared at the same time. What if her parents weren't convinced?

But no, if they weren't, Hermione would defy them. Or Ron would steal her away. He wouldn't lose her.

'I'll just put this stuff away,' Ginny said.

'I'll help you,' said Harry. Ron barely noticed them leave the living room.

'Ron,' Hermione murmured, into his neck; he could hardly believe that was her breath on his skin.

'What, love?' he murmured back, still stroking her hair, which was soft even with bits of soot in it. 

'I really missed you,' she said, sitting back from him to look him in the face.

'I really missed you,' he said, brushing more tears from her face--she had cried so much that all the soot had washed away. Her eyes were red and puffy and her hair was...well, to call it a mess was an understatement. But she was still the prettiest sight Ron had ever seen.

He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her but he couldn't, because her lips sealed over his. For a brief moment he nearly pinched himself, just to convince himself that she was really here, and kissing him, parting his lips with hers and pressing her tongue--which tasted of chocolate and mint--against his own. But in the next instant all thought was lost and there was only sensation, and she was kissing him as if her life depended on it, and he was kissing her back, matching her intensity, thinking he probably just might die right there if they stopped kissing...

'Uh...Ron?'

The intruding voice snapped into Ron's brain like a slap in the face, and he felt Hermione tear her lips from his and push herself away from him. 

'Sorry,' they both mumbled.

'Sorry,' said Harry and Ginny together. To a one they were all red and looking down at their feet. Ron bit his lip and thought of the most disgusting image he could, in the hopes of ridding himself of a problem in his pyjama pants. 

Snape in Mrs. Longbottom's dress did the trick.

'Uh, maybe we should turn in,' said Ron. 'Hermione can sleep in Ginny's room, if that's okay, Ginny...'

'It's fine,' said Ginny.

'No,' said Harry at once. 'Uh...look...' He was very red and seemed to have trouble talking. 'You two...you two want to be alone,' he added, waving a hand at Ron and Hermione. 'So...why don't you take Ron's room and I'll just kip on the sofa or something?'

Ron bit his lip. Good lord, that was tempting. Hermione next to him, possibly naked...

_Snape in a dress!_ he thought frantically. Good lord, sometimes that thing in his trousers had a mind of its own.

But then Ron shook his head. No, he couldn't do that. He glanced at Hermione and knew she was thinking the same thing--it didn't seem right, the two of them being alone in his room while Harry slept on the couch like the proverbial third wheel.

'That's all right,' said Hermione. 'I'll stay with Ginny.'

'Yeah, it's fine,' said Ron.

'Bullshit,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'Good lord, it's obvious you two want to be alone.'

'Well, uh, yeah, but--'

'So, be alone,' said Harry. 'Look, I don't mind, okay? I know what you're trying to do, but I really don't mind. You haven't seen each other in three and a half weeks. You can't tell me you two aren't dying to attack each other.'

'Harry!' Hermione gasped.

'Harry, you prat,' Ron groaned. 

Ginny sniggered behind her hand, and she and Harry exchanged looks.

'I'm right and you know it,' said Harry. 'Besides, this is probably the only chance you'll have to really be alone. You know how it gets in this house.'

'Harry does have a point,' said Ginny.

'Thank you,' said Harry. 'Look, I'm serious. I don't mind.'

Ron was about to protest, but Hermione spoke first.

'Are you sure?' she said timidly, still staring resolutely at her feet.

Ron nearly choked. He hadn't expected Hermione to agree. But of course, the fact that she did agree...

'I'm positive,' said Harry. 'The sofa's fine. And Ron's always talking in his sleep anyway, so I'll sleep better down here as it is.'

Ron looked at Hermione, then at Harry and Ginny.

'Uh...okay,' he mumbled.

'Good night, then,' said Harry, and he headed over to the sofa and sat down on it.

'I'll just...turn in, too,' said Ginny.

'Right,' said Hermione. 'Us, too.' 

Before Ginny could make a move toward the stairs, Hermione grabbed Ron by the hand and pulled him along; he followed in a bit of a daze, mumbled 'g'night' to Harry and Ginny, and followed his girlfriend up to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They entered his room, which glowed softly from the light of the moon that streamed in through the windows. Ron's heart was pounding. Hermione was in his room.

She'd been in his room before, of course, but never as his girlfriend. His eyes kept straying to the bed, then to her as she closed the door behind them. He realized she didn't have anything to wear to bed, and that excited the hell out of him.

Then he thought of Harry and Ginny, the fact that they knew SOMETHING was going on up here, and he hesitated. 

'Ron,' Hermione said softly. 'Are you going to seal the door?'

'Right,' said Ron, blinking. He pointed his wand at the door and muttered a Sealing Charm and a Silencing Charm. Then he turned and faced his girlfriend, who was standing in the center of his room between his bed and Harry's cot. The moonlight was playing on her hair, making it shimmer. He finally noticed that she was wearing old jeans that clung to her in all the right places, and a t-shirt that didn't cling at all, and a denim jacket over that. Merlin, she was beautiful. But he couldn't seem to move. 

'Ron,' she said softly. 'Aren't you...going to come over here?' She blushed and looked down as she removed her jacket and tossed it on his desk; then her hands were in front of her tummy, clutching one another.

He took a step toward her, then another, then thought of Harry and Ginny. Harry alone on the sofa, Ginny just one floor below...

'Could you, um, do a Cleaning Charm on me?' she asked. 'I'd take a shower but I'm really too exhausted to even bother with that...'

Hermione in the shower...

_Knock it off!_

'Sure,' he said, and he aimed his wand at her and said 'Scourgify' and suddenly she was entirely clean of soot. Her skin looked like porcelain.

'We don't have to,' Ron blurted. 'Uh, you know. If you don't want to.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, and she looked...hurt. 'Okay.'

Ron closed the distance between them, put his wand on his bedside table, and placed a hand on her arm.

'I mean,' he said quickly, 'it's just...a little weird, isn't it? With those two...'

'I wasn't thinking about Harry and Ginny,' said Hermione, sounding a bit annoyed.

'I wasn't either,' said Ron. 'I just...well...uh...you don't think it's...odd to...you know...shag--I mean, uh, make love when...'

'Who said anything about a shag?' said Hermione archly, folding her arms over her chest.

Ron gulped. Oops. That old saying about assuming something came back to him. Sort of.

'Nobody did,' he said hurriedly. 'I just...well...Christ, Hermione...' He threw up his hands, at a loss. Girls, he thought. They are so BLOODY confusing sometimes. Why can't they just tell you straight out what they're--

But Ron couldn't dwell on his frustration with women, because Hermione had lifted herself up on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his.

He hesitated, not sure what she was doing. Was this a Good Night Kiss, or a Snog Me Senseless Up To a Point Kiss, or a Kiss That Lead to Snogging That Lead to Shagging Kiss? Option One, Two or Three?

'Are you sure you don't want to?' Hermione whispered, and she brushed his lips again.

Obviously, this was Option Three. The very thought made all the blood rush from Ron's brain to, well, lower. Hermione didn't do this very often...seduce him like this...but when she did, it was enough to make him go half mad with lust.

'Actually...' he heard himself say, before he pulled her against him and kissed her hungrily. Good lord, he'd missed her. She tasted incredible, she felt incredible, how on earth had he gone for three and half weeks without touching her?

She backed up, pulling him with her, and they fell on his bed.

Merlin, they were snogging on his bed! 

He felt her small hands go inside his shirt. One of them moaned--Ron didn't know who, nor did he care, as he helped her yank his t-shirt over his head and toss it aside. They were snogging relentlessly and it was only when Hermione broke away that he realized he needed to breathe.

'God...' he gasped. She looked up at him and her face was flushed and her eyes were dark.

'Do you want to?' she whispered, running a hand through his hair (thank god, it had grown out a bit).

'Yeah,' said Ron fervently, nodding like one of those bobble-head dolls. 'Definitely.'

Hermione giggled, then pushed him over and rolled over on top of him, kissing him all the way, on his mouth, his face, his earlobes, his neck. Then she straddled him and ground her pelvis against his.

'Bloody hell...' he groaned. She was killing him. That was all there was to it. But what a lovely way to die...

He reached up and pulled her shirt over her head; she wasn't wearing a bra.

'Oh...my god...' he gasped, and then he grinned. 

She blushed. 'I was in a hurry.'

He laughed and pulled her down to his mouth, kissing her hard; he rolled her over onto her back and stared down at her; his eyes raked over her and he ran his hand lightly over her breasts, down the plane between them, gazing at her with a kind of reverence all the while.

'What?' she said, and she was still blushing, and looking incredibly shy. Or, at least, as shy as she could, considering she was naked from the waist up.

'You're gorgeous,' Ron heard himself say.

'No, I'm not,' she said, turning away, but she was trying not to smile.

'Yeah, you are,' said Ron fervently, and he grinned again. 'This is so cool.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'What's cool?'

'You're half naked in my bed, that's what's cool!' said Ron. 

'That's original,' said Hermione, smirking.

'Oh, come on,' Ron protested. 'I'm a bit too randy to be all that eloquent right now, okay? I mean, I'm really bloody happy to see you.'

'Yes, I can tell,' said Hermione, smiling wickedly. 'Your happiness is poking me in the leg.'

Ron's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe Hermione had just said that. Hermione Granger, Perfect Student, Miss Prissy Prefect, had just made a dirty joke. Well, two could play that game...

'I can think of somewhere else my happiness would like to poke you,' he growled.

'Ron, you pig!' she gasped, and she began to giggle, but then he kissed her and she stopped giggling.

Somehow, they managed to rid themselves of the rest of their clothes; Ron didn't really remember or care how they got naked, only that they got naked. His hands and mouth moved over every inch of her, reveling in the taste of her and in the little sounds that she made, the gasps and the way she said his name and the way her body trembled, and then he was on top of her again, searching for her...

'Wait...' she gasped.

'What?' Ron cried out. Oh, god, if she stopped him now he really would die.

'Contraceptive Charm,' she said. 'I can't...do it myself...'

'Oh...shit...' said Ron. 'I dunno how!' Wonderful. Great. That did it. No shagging tonight. If there was one thing he wouldn't risk, it was getting Hermione in the family way. Why the hell hadn't Bill shown him how to do this? All those times he'd gone to his older brother for advice last year...

'I'll talk you through it,' said Hermione. 'It's not difficult...'

'Okay,' said Ron, instantly relieved and still--thankfully--aroused. Of course she'd talk him through it, she was a genius...

He lifted himself over her and tried not to get too distracted by how bloody fantastic she looked, naked on his bed, her hair all spread out on the pillows like that, and fetched his wand from the bedside table. She showed him the wrist movement and told him the incantation.

'If it works there'll be a brief blue glow,' she said, still panting. Her chest was heaving and her breasts...

_Focus, Weasley.___

'Okay,' he said, and he waved his wand and said the incantation...

And nothing happened.

'Shit,' he grunted.

'Try again,' said Hermione. 'And stop swearing.'

'Right,' he said, getting a bit desperate. Maybe he wouldn't actually die if he didn't shag her, but at the very least there could be some brain damage.

He tried the charm again, and this time there was a blue glow.

'Thank god,' he muttered, before tossing his wand aside and lowering himself onto her again.

But she had other ideas; she pushed him off her, with surprising strength, until he was on his back again. 

'I thought...' she said, still panting, 'we could try...something new.' She climbed on top of him. It didn't take a genius to know what she was about to do.

'Excellent,' Ron managed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afterward, Hermione curled up lightly next to him. The both of them were a bit sweaty, and Ron had what he knew was the biggest, stupidest grin on his face.

'That was brilliant,' he said, pulling her close. It had been brilliant. Ron had thought he wouldn't last longer than ten seconds, given their relative inexperience, the excitement of seeing her on top of him like that, and the fact that he hadn't touched her in three weeks. But somehow he'd managed to keep a hold of himself for at least several minutes.

'It was rather nice,' she said, smiling against his shoulder.

'It doesn't still hurt, does it?' he asked.

'No,' said Hermione. 'No, not at all. It's lovely.'

She snuggled up to him even more; neither of them cared about being sweaty--they lay on top of the covers and it was cool in his room, thanks to the Cooling Charms Ron used. He let his fingers caress her damp hair and felt the familiar post-sex lassitude come over him. Then he felt her shift against him, and he sensed it at once: something was wrong.

''Mione?' he murmured.

She sniffed, and Ron felt tears on his shoulder.

'Hey,' he whispered, and he turned onto his side and tipped her face up to look at him. He knew why she was crying, or at least, he thought he did. He hated that she was so sad, and said the only thing he thought of that might cheer her up.

'Was I that bad?'

It had the desired effect; she laughed and swatted him on the arm weakly.

'No,' she said, smiling, but then more tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

'I'm not going to let them take you away,' Ron said, pulling her close and staring into her eyes. 'No way.'

'You promise?' she whispered.

'I promise,' he said, and he meant it. Bugger her parents. Hermione was a witch, the best damn witch he'd ever met, and she belonged in this world, and at Hogwarts. With him.

'I love you,' she whispered, caressing his cheek. 

'I love you, too,' he said. He kissed her gently on the forehead, and pulled her close, gathering her up in his arms. Harry was right. This part, the cuddling, the closeness...it was better than sex. It was a gift.

'Don't let me fall asleep,' she murmured, her eyes already closing. 'Have to...go to Ginny's room...before your mum gets back.'

'I won't,' Ron murmured, as his own eyes drifted shut.

______________________________________________________________________

**A/N: At last, Ron/Hermione fluff--ah, that was fun. Hope you enjoyed it.**

**But I know what you're thinking. What about Harry? And Ginny? And Harry and Ginny? Well, a Harry-centric chapter is coming up next, and soon. Stay tuned...**

**Thanks for reading, and for reviewing! (Hint: reviews make me write faster)**


	7. Chapter Seven: Mrs Weasley's Return

_Chapter Seven: Mrs. Weasley's Return_

Harry watched Hermione and Ron go up the stairs; Ginny was close behind, but she turned to Harry and smiled and rolled her eyes. Harry chuckled and shook his head and gave her a wave, then collapsed onto the sofa. He was about to lie down when he remembered that he should set the alarm on his watch for an early hour, to ensure that he got upstairs before Mrs. Weasley got home. If she saw him sleeping on the sofa, she'd almost certainly figure out why he wasn't in Ron's room.

The watch alarm set, Harry lay down and closed his eyes--it was warm in the living room, so he didn't bother with a blanket. Sleep stole over him quickly and for a while he didn't dream, but then images came, unbidden, into his mind. Of Susan. Of red, snake-like eyes. Of Sirius as he fell through the veil. The images were nothing more than flashes, with no sequence, no sense, no progression to them. And then an old, familiar scene played in his mind: his mother, screaming, placing herself in front of Harry's crib; Voldemort raising his wand, speaking the incantation, throwing the Killing Curse...

Harry sat up sharply and winced. His hand flew to his scar and he swallowed. For the first time in weeks, it was prickling. No, burning. He stood up, grabbed his wand from under his pillow, and fumbled for his glasses. He whirled round in the moonlit darkness, his eyes straining to take in signs of movement, his ears alert for any untoward sounds. 

After a full minute of listening, Harry heard...something. Faint, so faint that he wondered whether his ears were not playing tricks on him.

And then louder. A moan.

Harry rolled his eyes. Lovely. Ron and Hermione had clearly forgotten to sound-proof his room.

'Now I'll never sleep,' he grumbled out loud. He really DIDN'T mind them having some alone time, but that didn't mean he wanted to HEAR them at it.

There was another moan, this one even louder, and Harry froze. That moan was different. It wasn't...a good moan (Harry had made enough of those in recent months to know the difference).

'No...'

The voice--it didn't belong to Ron or Hermione.

Ginny.

Harry started toward the stairs and halfway there, he gasped as his scar seared with pain. His knees buckled and he grabbed the wall for support.

'Stop...'

Ginny was speaking louder now. Pleading. 

Good god, had someone gotten into her room? Where were Ron and Hermione? Surely they had heard her by now?

Harry shook his head and rubbed at his scar; the sharp pain had receded to a dull throbbing, and he started up the stairs, gripping the banister with his left hand as he clutched his wand firmly in his right.

'Don't...please!' Ginny cried, her voice muffled behind her closed door.

Harry took the rest of the stairs at a run, hoping, expecting to see Ron and Hermione right there. But they weren't. And Harry realized that they in fact must have soundproofed his room and couldn't hear her. Because there was no way they'd NOT respond if Ginny was in distress.

'Leave me alone!'

Harry reached for the doorknob and his scar flared again. Now it was official: he was scared. Something was going on, something to do with Ginny. He'd woken up to pain in his scar, and right at that moment Ginny had started to plead with...someone. He had half a mind to pound up to Ron's room and wake them, but what if, while he was doing that, whoever was in Ginny's room...killed her?

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. What if HE was in there now? He'd threatened her at the Riddle House that night. Harry hadn't forgotten that, even if his own focus had been more on Susan at that moment. 

'Stop it!' Ginny begged, and she was crying now. Harry's scar burned again.

Fuck it, thought Harry. If that's him, I'll...just have to find a way to kill him. But I'm not letting him hurt Ginny.

He turned the doorknob slowly and then flung the door open wide, his wand outstretched, ready to scream a Stunning Spell. 

But Ginny was alone. She was lying in bed, thrashing. Harry suddenly realized he'd been holding his breath, and he exhaled loudly. She was having a nightmare.

'Please, don't...' she cried, and her arms flailed in front of her like windmills. 'Don't take me down there...Tom...I don't want to go...'

Tom...

She's dreaming of Riddle, Harry thought. He sprang into action, crossing the room and leaning over her bed; he set his wand down on her bedside table.

'Ginny!' he called, and he tried to grab her arms, which were pushing against something invisible.

'No!'

'Ginny, wake up!' Harry sat, and he knelt down on her bed and caught her wrists in his hands. 'Wake up!'

'NO!' Ginny screamed, as her eyes flew open. 'Let me go!'

'Ginny!' Harry yelled, trying to calm her down, but she wasn't having it. She cried and struggled and pushed against him.

'Ginny, it's me!' Harry cried desperately. 'It's Harry.' And his scar flared again, so hot and brutal that he felt faint from it, and he let go of her, and at that moment he felt the sting of her palm as she slapped him, very hard, on the face. So hard that his glasses went askew.

'Get away from me!'

The slap jarred him and reminded him of what was happening. As he straightened his glasses, there was only one thing he could think of to still her struggles; he grabbed her wrists again and pressed them above her head, into the pillow, and let his weight settle on her torso, which was twisting and writhing.

'Ginny, wake up!' Harry yelled, his face inches from hers. 'It's Harry.'

Ginny let out another yelp, but then her brown eyes met his. She blinked and stopped struggling, but she was trembling so much the whole bed shook with it.

'H-Harry?' she whispered.

'It's okay,' said Harry, trying not to wince as his scar continued to burn. 'You had a nightmare.' He quickly let go of her wrists and eased back his weight from her body.

'Harry,' she said again, and her brown eyes began to leak tears. 'Oh, god...' She rolled over on her side and covered her face with her hands.

For a moment, Harry was at a loss. He hadn't seen her like this since he'd pulled her from the Chamber, all those years ago. She'd been a frightened little girl back then, frightened, and ashamed. Ashamed of her inability to fight back, though she'd tried. Ashamed of what Riddle had made her do.

And then Harry felt slightly sick, because apart from what he knew about, there could have been any number of things that he'd made her do. Here she was, six years later, having nightmares about Tom Riddle. Voldemort.

The sound of her sobbing brought him back to his senses, and he remembered that perhaps he ought to do something other than just sit there and listen to her cry.

'Hey,' he said softly, and he put a hand on her shoulder. 'It's okay. Ginny, it's okay. Don't cry.'

She gave a choked sob and curled up into a ball, and it was then that Harry realized just how small she really was. He supposed he hadn't really thought about it, considering how capable she had become in the past few years, how tough and resilient. But now she was crumpled up and vulnerable, and Harry felt a flash of hatred surge through him. Voldemort had done this to her. Six years later and it wasn't over for her. How many times had she awakened in the middle of the night, screaming for Riddle not to take her down into the Chamber?

'Ginny,' Harry whispered, and without thinking he began to rub her back. Susan had done that for him sometimes, when he'd had a bad dream. It always made him feel a bit better, the warmth and the contact. Indeed, as he traced circles on Ginny's back, she seemed to quiet down.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, and she sniffed. She was speaking so quietly he hardly heard her.

'Sorry for what?' Harry asked.

'For waking you,' said Ginny.

Harry gave a disbelieving laugh. 'Don't apologize.'

She let out a breath and turned onto her back, looking up at him with swollen eyes, eyes that widened.

'Harry,' she said slowly, sitting up. 'What happened to your face?'

'What?' said Harry. She reached up and touched his left cheek, and he winced.

'Oh, that,' he said. 'Well, actually, that was you.'

'I did that?' said Ginny, appalled.

'Yeah,' said Harry, and he smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. 'I was trying to wake you up and you walloped me.'

'Oh, shit,' said Ginny with a groan. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.'

'I know,' said Harry. 'Although, that makes me wonder how hard you hit when you do mean it.'

She laughed, and sniffed, and looked at him for a long moment.

He wanted to turn away, but there was something about her gaze that held him there. She still looked so scared.

'How often do you dream about him?' Harry heard himself ask, and in the next minute he wanted to kick himself. It was none of his damn business...

'Not as much as I used to,' she said, shrugging. 'But...lately, the dreams have gotten worse. Ever since...'

'The Riddle House,' Harry finished.

She nodded, and then she shifted, putting her back against the wall where her bed rested. She moved her legs around so that they stretched out across her narrow bed.

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. 

'Why are you sorry?' Ginny asked.

'I'm sorry...he went after you,' said Harry. 

'That's not your fault,' said Ginny. 'Lucius Malfoy did that. I used to wonder why Malfoy picked me to give the diary to. Maybe he figured because I was a girl that of course I'd write in it. Or maybe Draco suggested it. Or maybe...maybe he picked me because I happened to be standing right there and he couldn't get close enough to Ron to slip him the diary.'

'It's not fair,' said Harry, looking at her. 

'Neither is being the Boy Who Lived,' she replied.

'You didn't ask for this--'

'Neither did you,' Ginny interrupted.

There was a pause, and then he nodded. 'No, I didn't.'

She smiled at him sadly, and her eyes filled with tears again.

'Hey,' said Harry softly, and without really noticing he was doing it, he put his arm around her. She sank against him and cried softly into his shoulder, her tears soaking his shirt. His heart was pounding; he'd never been much good with girls crying on him. But this wasn't Cho, or Susan. This was Ginny. She was a friend, a good friend, and she'd let him cry on her shoulder once, not too long ago.

'I'm sorry,' she blubbered, pulling herself back from him again. 'I can't seem to pull myself together tonight.'

'Well, that was a nasty nightmare,' said Harry, shrugging. 

'Do you wake up from nightmares sobbing your eyes out?' Ginny asked.

'No, I usually just puke over the side of the bed,' said Harry.

She laughed, and then he laughed, and suddenly they were laughing, quite hard. It was the weirdest thing ever. Okay, maybe not the weirdest, but it was up there. One minute he was consoling Ginny as she sobbed on his shoulder, and now here they were, laughing as though they'd smoked some of Dudley's marijuana. The tears running down her cheeks now were tears of mirth.

And then it happened again: Harry's scar raged with pain.

'Ow!' he gasped.

'Harry?' 

His hand flew to his scar.

'It's nothing,' he said, through clenched teeth, even as the burning bit at the tender flesh.

'It's not nothing,' said Ginny, her voice suddenly all business. 'Let me see.'

'Ginny, you don't have to--ow!' He tried to squirm away from her, but she gripped his shoulder tightly and with surprising strength--or not so surprising, considering how hard she'd clocked him earlier--she held him still.

'Hold still,' she admonished, and she yanked his hand away from his scar with her free hand, then brushed back the messy black fringe covering it.

'It's really red,' she said, and she lightly traced her finger over it. Harry winced.

'Sorry,' she said, but she didn't take her hand away. 'It's hot, too.' She traced her finger over it again, very lightly, and then again. The pain began to ebb away.

'It's nothing,' Harry said, grateful that the pain had stopped. 'It hurts all the time, remember?'

'No, it doesn't,' said Ginny sharply. 'You said it hadn't been hurting you at all since the Riddle House, remember?'

Harry looked at her with a decidedly petulant frown on his face. 'I guess I said that,' he mumbled. 

'So, when did it start hurting?' Ginny demanded. She locked him into place by staring him down with her fierce brown eyes.

He wanted to lie to her. He didn't want her to fuss. But Merlin, her gaze was something--it was as if she saw right through him.

'Tonight,' he said. 'It started tonight. After Ron and Hermione and you all went upstairs. That's why I woke up. It wasn't you.'

'Wait a minute,' said Ginny, putting a hand on his arm. 'Are you saying that you woke up because your scar hurt?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'So? I usually wake up if it hurts.'

'Was it hurting when...when you came in here?' Ginny asked, and she blushed and looked away, clearly embarrassed at being caught in the midst of her nightmare.

'Well...yeah,' said Harry, striving for a casual voice. 'So?'

She looked up at him again. 'You don't think it's...odd, you waking up because your scar hurting and just happening to find me in the middle of a nightmare about...him?'

Harry stared at her. No, he hadn't thought it was odd, because it hadn't occurred to him to think about it that way.

'No,' he said. 'But...now you mention it...it kept flaring when I was trying to wake you up.'

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and sat back; her gaze moved away from him and she appeared to be thinking hard about something.

'What?' he asked.

'I dunno,' she said. 'It's just...a weird coincidence. Your scar doesn't hurt for weeks and on the very night it starts hurting again I have a nightmare about Tom Riddle.'

Harry felt a thrill of fear at her words. 'You think there could be a connection?'

She looked at him, and her eyes were fearful again. 'I don't know. Maybe...maybe we should tell Dumbledore about it.'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah.' And now his eyes moved away from her, and he was thinking again about everything Lupin had told him.

'Harry?' said Ginny hesitantly. 'What is it?'

'I was just thinking,' he said, and he looked at her. 'Look, Ginny, I haven't told anyone this yet because...well, because I haven't wanted to dwell on it...you know...but...Lupin told me something about that night at the Riddle House. He said...he said when I fought with Voldemort that I injured him.'

Ginny's eyes went wide. 'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'The Ministry, they sent this team to clean up the mess and they found drops of blood outside the front of the house. It was my blood.'

She gave him a confused look.

'I never went in front of the house, Ginny,' said Harry. 

She shook her head. 

'I don't understand.'

'That night, in the graveyard,' said Harry, 'the night Cedric was murdered and Voldemort came back. There was this...spell, or curse or whatever, to get his body back. He used some of my blood to do it.'

Ginny stared at him as comprehension dawned on her features.

'So that blood outside the front of the house was your blood,' said Ginny, 'but it came from Voldemort's body?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'At least, that's what Lupin and Dumbledore think.'

'Could that be...why your scar hasn't been hurting, then?' Ginny asked.

'It's as good an explanation as any,' said Harry. 'Maybe when he's badly injured, he can't get to me that way.'

'But if your scar's hurting again now--' Ginny began.

'--that must mean he's healthy again,' said Harry darkly.

'How did you manage to hurt him, Harry?' said Ginny, amazed. 

'That's just it, I don't know,' said Harry. 'The last thing I remember about that night was him possessing me, or trying to. Ron said I fought back and Voldemort sort of screamed and Disapparated, but I don't remember 'cause I passed out.'

'Maybe that's when you hurt him,' said Ginny. 'When you...fought back mentally, or whatever.'

'But how would that make him bleed?' Harry asked.

Ginny started to speak, then stopped and shook her head.

'Harry,' she said slowly, after a moment.

'Please, Gin, don't ask me why I didn't tell you sooner--'

'I wasn't going to,' said Ginny. 'I know why you didn't. What I was going to say is, maybe it's time we all...pool our resources on this. Hermione'd be chomping at the bit to do research on this, you know she would. And...maybe there's a connection, between your scar hurting and my dream. And with Ron possibly being a Seer--'

Harry choked and coughed. 'Who said...Ron, a Seer?' he managed.

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Oh, please. Harry, I've known about that since he got home. He left his dream diary out one night and--'

'Ginny!' said Harry. 

'I didn't read it!' said Ginny at once, putting up her hands. 'I may be a nosy brat but I'm not that rude. But yeah, I know about it. You said yourself, Ron talks in his sleep.'

Harry stared at her. 'I really need to stop underestimating you.'

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and gave him a pointed look. 'I'm used to it by now.'

'Yeah, well,' said Harry, 'I promise not to do it anymore, okay? Between this and your amazing flying and the fact that you almost knocked me out cold in your sleep...'

'I'm not that great at flying,' she mumbled, blushing. 'So, you'll tell Ron and Hermione about this?' 

'Yeah,' he said. 'I'll tell them tomorrow--'

'Not,' said Ginny quickly, 'about...my having a nightmare.'

'Why not?' said Harry.

'It's Ron,' said Ginny. 'He worries about me, he's always looking at me like I'm about to go barmy on him or something. Because of what...Voldemort said to me at the Riddle House. You know how he gets.'

'Ginny, what if there's a connection between your nightmare and my scar?' said Harry. 'I can't really keep that a secret if--'

'I know,' said Ginny, holding up her hands. 'But...for now, please...don't tell him? I don't want him to worry. I'm okay. I really am. I just...sometimes...'

Her voice trailed off. 

Harry looked at her; she looked scared again, but coupled with that was a straightness in her spine, a determination in her pose, as though she was determined to conquer her fear. He couldn't help but admire her, and wonder at how mercurial she was. One moment she was tough, all business; the next she was telling jokes; and the next, collapsing against him as though he were a lifeline. She was a very different girl from the girl he knew back in his second year.

_No, she's not,_ the voice in his head told him. _She's the same girl she's always been. You just didn't notice her much before._

'I know what you mean,' he said, smiling at her sadly.

'I know you do,' she said. And with that, she yawned and stretched her back, and for the very first time in his life Harry noticed more of her than he ever had. 

Like the fact that she was wearing rather skimpy pyjamas: a t-shirt that was entirely too small and shorts that were entirely too short. Like the fact that her hair was more copper than pure red, and hung down her back. Like the fact that she had breasts. Full, round, lovely ones, at least as far as he could tell, being that they were covered up by that entirely too-tight t-shirt.

He felt his cheeks burn. He was glad it was dark, and she couldn't see the expression on his face.

Where had THAT come from? When had Ginny gone and gotten...a body? A very girly, lovely, _female body?_

_Perv,_ he thought. _That's Ron's sister. And you just gawked at her breasts. Damn, but they're nice ones._

He blinked.

'I'll just...turn in,' he said.

He got up and started for the door, suddenly wanting to get out of there. He couldn't believe he was having impure thoughts about Ginny, of all people.

_Yeah, I can,_ he thought_. I'm lonely as hell, and horny, and I haven't gotten laid in a while, and there are NO girls to speak of at __Privet Drive__, for god's sake, and she's hardly wearing anything, and she's...well, she's really quite cute, isn't she? How was I supposed to know she's stacked? She wears baggy clothes all the time. Besides,  I'm a bloke. A sixteen year old, red-blooded, heterosexual bloke.  I'd have to be dead not to notice that Ginny is a looker. Not that anything is going to happen, because she's over me, I know that. But still...well, I can look, can't I? Merlin, she has a lovely pair--_

_That's Ron's **SISTER, you perv**_.__

'Is the sofa okay?' said Ginny.

'It's fine,' said Harry. 'Just one night, right?'

'Harry,' said Ginny, and she gave him a look. 'I have the spare bed, if you want. It'd be a lot more comfortable than the sofa.' She indicated the small bed on the opposite wall.

Harry flushed. 'Uh...that's okay. I mean, I could always sleep in Fred and George's room, if I want a bed.'

'And if you want to get tickled to death or strangled in your sleep,' said Ginny, shaking her head. 'They jinx their beds all the time, Harry. They don't want strangers sleeping in their room. Even though they moved out.' She rolled her eyes. 'Look, just crash here. It's quiet in here, and anyway, it won't do if Mum comes back and sees you on the sofa. She'll figure out something's up.'

Harry considered. She was looking at him with her All Business look again. There was, at least as far as he could tell, no ulterior motive on her part.

'Okay,' he said. 'But...you should make sure we wake up early--'

'--before Mum gets home,' said Ginny, nodding. 'Bloody hell, can you imagine. I hope Ron remembered to set his own watch.'

And with that, she leaned across her bed and picked up the clock on her bedside table. Harry turned away and headed straight for the spare bed, which was covered in a rather girlish pink duvet.

'So, listen,' she said. 'If I have another nightmare, I dunno, give me a smack or something. To make up for the one I gave you.'

He turned and saw her smiling rather cheekily at him. He laughed and shook his head.

'I'll keep that in mind,' he said, pointing to his cheek, which was now tender and bruised.

She buried herself under her covers as he climbed into the spare bed, which had old pink sheets on it that were nonetheless spotlessly clean and fresh-smelling. Like citrus. He settled back on to the pillows and felt exhaustion creep over him at once. Yes, the bed was a lot better than the sofa, and it was very quiet in her room. He took off his glasses and set them on the dresser behind him.

'Harry?' Ginny's voice floated across the room.

'Yeah?'

'Thanks,' she said. 'For...you know.'

He looked across the room but saw only the blurred outline of her head; he couldn't make out her features, but he smiled at her anyway.

'Sure,' he said, and he lay back down into the softness of the bed, and drifted off, images of Susan in his mind. Only this time, the images didn't make his heart hurt quite so much. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wasn't quite sure how he got there, but somehow, he found himself at a Weird Sisters concert. The music was very, very loud--the bass and the drums pulsated heavily and he felt it through his whole body. But all told, the concert was rather entertaining. If he could just figure out why he was in his pyjamas...

He left the concert. His ears were ringing. Loudly. Good lord, the ringing was relentless...

Harry opened his eyes and groaned. The ringing wasn't his ears, it was Ginny's alarm clock. Which she was sleeping right through.

_Thought she was a light sleeper,_ he thought.

_Give her a break, she had a rough night, she's exhausted._

Harry groaned and pulled himself out of bed and went over to the clock. He picked it up, where it bounced madly in his hand as the bells rang. The hand was set at 'Dawn; why are you getting up NOW?'

'Good question,' Harry muttered. Oh, right, he had to go wake up Ron and Hermione. Ron would have forgotten to set his alarm; shagging had a way of making a man forget about, well, everything else.

Harry smacked the button on the clock and it stopped clanging. He set the clock back down, staggered over to the dresser, slapped on his glasses, and walked unsteadily out Ginny's door, passing the spare bed and picking up his wand as he went and shutting Ginny's door behind him. He started toward the attic stairs when he felt a twinge in his bladder.

Pee first, then wake Ron and Hermione.

Harry walked blearily into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, locking it just in case. He had just starting relieving himself when he heard a loud WHOOSH come from downstairs.

'Hermione?!'

'Oh, shit,' Harry whispered to himself. It was Mrs. Weasley. She was earlier than he thought.

 'Ginny? Ron? Harry?!' 

Jesus Christ, why can't I finish peeing already? Harry thought frantically. He had to get upstairs, he had to get Hermione out of Ron's room before...

Bang, bang, BANG!

'Ginny?' Mrs. Weasley said shrilly. 'Is Hermione there? I need to speak with her. Open up!'

There was a long moment of silence, as Harry prayed that Mrs. Weasley didn't go upstairs. Ron might have sealed his door shut but that wouldn't stop his mother...

Thank god, Harry finally finished emptying his bladder. He dared to open the door to the bathroom, just a crack. 

'Ginny!' Mrs. Weasley bellowed. 'Open up right now!' Her back was to the bathroom door, and all her attention was focused on Ginny's.

The door opened, and Ginny stood there, looking very sleepy and more than a little disgruntled.

'What?' she said, annoyed, and then her eyes went wide, and she seemed to snap awake.

'Mum!' she said, in an overly loud voice. 'What are you doing home?'

'I think you know the answer to that, young lady,' Mrs. Weasley snapped. 'I woke up this morning and found a note from Hermione saying she Flooed here. I don't know HOW she got in through a sealed up chimney but if she IS here, tell her I have to speak with her RIGHT NOW; her parents are frantic with worry and they're furious, too--it took every ounce of persuasive power I had to keep them from coming here, too--'

The tirade continued as Harry, anxious to get Ginny's attention, poked his head carefully out the bathroom door. He met her eyes, and hers widened for just a second, but her mother was deep into her monologue, and didn't notice.

'Mum!' Ginny interrupted, glancing at Harry. 'Hermione's...'

Harry pointed to the bathroom.

'In the loo,' said Ginny. 'She'll be out in a few minutes. She's...not feeling well...'

She glanced at Harry again, who made a sickly face and grabbed his stomach.

'Stomachache,' said Ginny, with a grim expression. 'You know.'

'Really?' said Mrs. Weasley, and she started to turn around. Harry leapt back into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it.

'Hermione?' Mrs. Weasley called, knocking on the door. 'Are you all right in there, dear?'

'I'm fine!' Harry called, in a high-pitched voice that sounding absolutely nothing like Hermione.

'Are you sure?' said Mrs. Weasley. 'You sound a bit...funny.'

At this Harry coughed dramatically and pretended to heave. 'I'm...fine...' he gasped, in a wheeze.

'Oh, dear, you sound horrible,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Let me in--'

'No!' he yelped, and this time he did sound a bit more like Hermione. 'Uh...I'm okay...just...need to get this out of my system!'

'Ginny,' came Mrs. Weasley's voice, and from the sound of things, she had turned round again. Harry pressed his ear to the door. 

'Are you sure she's all right?' Mrs. Weasley went on.

'She's okay, Mum,' Ginny insisted. 'Honest. I think...a lot of it's nerves. You know...with her parents.'

'Yes, well,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'I'll just go downstairs and wait for her, then. No need for you or Ron and Harry to get up, it's so early. Tell her to come down when she's...done, would you?'

'I will,' said Ginny, in her overloud voice.

'But if she's not down in five minutes, I'm coming back up and I'm going into that bathroom, understood?'

'Understood!' Ginny said, practically shouting.

And then Harry heard footsteps, receding down the hallway and creaking on the staircase, and fading away. He counted to five and leapt out of the bathroom.

He and Ginny collided in the corridor.

'Fuck!' they both hissed.

'Get upstairs!' Ginny whispered frantically.

'I'm on it,' said Harry, and he hurtled up the stairs, forgetting not to tread quietly.

'Hermione?'

It was Mrs. Weasley's voice again. Harry froze halfway up the attic steps and looked frantically at the door to the loo. Ginny shook her head.

'She's...in my room, Mum, getting dressed now!' Ginny called.

'Oh, good--Hermione, dear, are you feeling better?'

'Fine!' Ginny called; her voice sounded nothing like Hermione, either, but at least it sounded appropriately girlish.

'Good!' Mrs. Weasley called. 'Well, hurry up and get dressed.'

'Okay!' said Ginny. And she turned and waved her arms frantically at Harry to go upstairs. He did, but this time he remembered to tread lightly.

He reached Ron's door; it was glowing slightly from what had to be a Sealing Charm and a Silencing Charm.

'Shit,' he muttered. He had his wand, but he couldn't very well USE magic to open the door. And if he knocked too loudly...

'Ron,' he hissed, tapping on the door. 'Ron!'

He had no idea how much time had elapsed but there couldn't be more than three minutes before Mrs. Weasley charged upstairs again.

'RON!' Harry whispered desperately, tapping on the door as loud as he dared. Just when he was about to give up altogether, the door opened.

It was Hermione who answered. Ron was sacked out on the bed, snoring lightly, sleeping like the dead. Harry felt the overwhelming urge to punch him.

'Harry?' said  Hermione. 

Oh, good lord. She was wearing one of Ron's t-shirts. And nothing else, that much was plain.

'Hermione,' said Harry desperately, hurrying into the room and shoving the door shut behind him. 'Mrs. Weasley's back--you have to get dressed and get downstairs in...two minutes!'

Hermione blanched. 'Oh, dear,' she whispered, and in the next instant she was searching for her clothes, and Harry was helping her. He found her jeans, which had landed a good distance from the bed (he tried not to think about the implications of that); she found her own t-shirt and her denim jacket.

'I can't find my shoes!' she hissed.

'Bugger your shoes, just get dressed!' Harry snapped.

'But what if Mrs. Weasley finds them--'

'I'll look for them later, just HURRY UP!'

She nodded, and tossed her clothes onto Ron's bed, onto Ron himself. He grunted in his sleep but didn't stir. Harry really wanted to punch him now.

Hermione, for her part, was so frantic that she yanked the t-shirt she was wearing over her head. Harry whirled around just in time. Hermione was a nice looking girl but she was like his sister, and he wasn't _that desperate to see a naked woman. And besides, Ron would kill him._

Then Harry remembered that he wanted to kill Ron, for forgetting to set his bloody watch, for lying there like nothing was wrong, like the shit wasn't about to hit the fan.

'I'm going,' she hissed, and she hurried out the door. Harry was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she reappeared.

'She's coming up the stairs!' Hermione hissed. 'I can't be seen up here!'

'Fuck!' Harry said again, because there was simply nothing else that could adequately describe this situation. Hermione was so frightened she didn't even correct him.

'Hermione, are you ready yet?'

Hermione opened her mouth to start to answer, when Harry clapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up as Ginny, speaking in her faux-Hermione voice, said, 'Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, just...can't find my...shoes.'

Harry's eyes went like saucers. He couldn't believe it...either Ginny was psychic or that was the luckiest coincidence he'd ever heard of.

'Please try to hurry, dear!' said Mrs. Weasley, sounding a bit put out now. But, thankfully, Mrs. Weasley's familiar footsteps retreated down the stairs again. Harry and Hermione waited a beat, then Hermione flew out of the room.

'Quietly!' Harry hissed, as she started down the stairs. 'Wait!'

'What?' she snapped.

'If Mrs. Weasley asks, you were just puking your guts out in the loo because of...'

'Nerves!' Ginny supplied, from what sounded like inside her room.

'Right!' said Harry.

'Okay!' Hermione whispered, nodding.

He watched the mass of bushy brown hair sweep past Ginny's room--she poked her head out long enough to hiss to Hermione, 'You owe me one!'

'Fine!' said Hermione, and she paused only when she came to the landing of the lower stairs, and took a deep breath. Harry had to give her credit--she could panic like nobody he knew, but she HAD gotten a lot better at pulling herself together. She straightened her shoulders and marched purposefully down the stairs to face the wrath of Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny looked up at Harry, and her eyes were wide. Harry stared down at her for a long moment, unable to believe the close call they'd just had. She bit her lip and started to laugh, silently, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Harry started to laugh, too, but then he pointed to Ron's room, and she nodded and went back into her room, shutting the door behind her. Harry went into Ron's room, clutching his side and laughing softly. The whole situation was rather like a comedy of errors.

He heard a groan and looked up. Ron's eyes flickered open and he lifted his head off the pillow. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he was tangled up in the bedsheets which, thank god, were strategically covering him. He had a half confused, half bemused expression on his face.

'Morning, Harry,' he said groggily. 'Where'd Hermione go?'

Harry threw a pillow in Ron's face.

____________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Okay, this was a LONG chapter but I promised you a Harry/Ginny moment, and I didn't want it to be totally serious and sad.**

**One reviewer expressed the desire that I make this a Harry/Ginny centric story with only bits of Ron/Hermione. Sorry, that's not how I've planned it. It's going to bounce back and forth pretty evenly between the two boys (as of now I don't see writing in the girls' perspectives--it's just too crowded for that); Ron has a huge role to play in this, his Seer thing is going to be a big plot point, and I love writing Ron and R/Hr too much to put it on the backburner. But fear not, there will be plenty of H/G, too. Just be prepared. It's not going to be quick and easy. Patience, good readers!**


	8. Chapter Eight: The Lonely Horny Thing

_Chapter Eight: The Lonely Horny Thing_

'OW!' Ron yelled. 'What was that for?'

'For not setting your bloody alarm clock, that's what,' Harry snapped. 'Your mum's back and Hermione's downstairs right now talking to her.'

Ron went white. 'Really?'

'Yeah, really,' said Harry. 'Ginny and I just saved you a shitload of trouble, so the least you could do is drag your lazy arse out of bed and get down there and help your girlfriend.'

'Okay, okay,' said Ron hotly, jumping out of bed. He was completely naked.

'Oi, Ron!' said Harry, throwing up his hands and turning around. 'Jesus, put some clothes on.'

'Piss off,' Ron retorted. Harry heard him rummaging in his dresser for some clothes, then the swish of fabric on skin as Ron got dressed.

After about a minute, Ron said, 'I'm going downstairs. You coming?'

'In a bit,' said Harry grumpily. 'I still need to recover from seeing you naked.'

'Prat,' said Ron, smacking Harry on the back of the head. 'You're just jealous 'cause I'm hung like a horse.'

'Trust me when I tell you, Ron, that I have never once in all the time I've known you given a nanosecond's consideration to the size of your dick,' said Harry, smacking him back. And then he grinned smugly. 'But if I ever do get curious I'll ask Moaning Myrtle.'

'That is NOT funny,' said Ron. 'I'm going.'

He stalked out of his room in two long strides, leaving Harry alone, at last, to breathe. He was exhausted and he needed sleep, but the events of the past several hours had him completely keyed up. He got dressed, and after spending a few hopeless minutes trying to flatten his hair, he headed downstairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were seated in the living room, the four of them looking at the floor.

Dumbledore was there, and standing behind him, looking both worried and a bit put out, were Hermione's parents, Warren and Alice Granger. Dr. Warren Granger was a slight, thin man; Hermione looked very little like him but for her brown eyes. Dr. Alice Granger was slightly taller than her husband, and it was from her that Hermione had inherited the bushy, brown hair. Except that in Dr. Alice Granger's case, that hair was tamed into submission by hair products and a rather severe looking hair clip. Both were lightly dusted with soot from having traveled by Floo Powder.

'Miss Granger, I'm very disappointed in your decision to sneak out of Headquarters last night,' said Dumbledore, staring down at her and then letting his eyes roam over the four of them. 'What you did was rash and insensible, and entirely unlike you.'

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Dumbledore held up his hand. 

'Please, let me finish,' he said. 'Fortunately your...midnight jaunt has not undone all the hard work I've had to do to persuade your parents to allow you to return to Hogwarts for your final year.'

At this, everyone gasped. Hermione went pale and clutched Ron's arm, then looked at her parents.

'R-really?' she whispered.

'Yes, really,' said Warren Granger. 

At this Hermione gave a squeal of delight, leapt up from the sofa, and threw herself at her parents, who both hugged her back, shaking their heads. Harry and the others stood up.

'I can't believe it!' she cried, and she pulled away just long enough to gush at Dumbledore. 'Thank you, Professor, thank you so much! Oh, my god, what did you say to them?' She turned back to her parents. 'What did he say to you?'

'Your Headmaster told us about Harry,' said Dr. Granger, casting a glance in Harry's direction; Harry blushed and looked down. 'What he's faced with. And he told us about Ron as well.'

At this Ron laughed nervously and looked down at his hands as his ears went red. Harry pursed his lips. Did that mean Hermione's parents knew Ron might be a Seer?

'I can't say I'm thrilled about all of this,' said Dr. Granger. 'But I do feel a bit better knowing you have such loyal friends.'

'It took some convincing,' said Alice Granger, 'and...we're still not entirely happy about it, Hermione. But if being at Hogwarts is ultimately safer for you, then that's where we want you to be.'

Harry tried not to grin. It was going to be okay, after all. Hermione wasn't going anywhere.

Ron stood up from the sofa and cleared his throat; his ears were still red.

'S-sir,' he said slowly, addressing Hermione's father. 'Could I…speak with you?'

Dr. Granger eyed Ron for a moment, and said, 'Certainly.'

And Harry stared as Hermione's father and her boyfriend headed to a corner and began to speak. 

'What's Ron doing?' Ginny muttered, moving to stand next to Harry.

'Dunno,' said Harry, staring at Ron and Dr. Granger; Harry couldn't make out what was being said, but Ron seemed to be doing most of the talking, as Dr. Granger listened intently. 

Harry found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from Ron and Dr. Granger; he was aware of Mrs. Weasley speaking to Hermione and Dumbledore, and of Ginny standing next to him, but the scene of Ron and Dr. Granger talking commanded Harry's full attention.

And then it was over. Ron and Dr. Granger shook hands; Dr. Granger put his hand on Ron's shoulder and gave him a sad kind of smile, then nodded at him and walked back over to Hermione and his wife.

'What was that all about?' Ginny asked, looking up at Harry, then at Ron, who was still a bit red in the face as he sat on the sofa.

'Got me,' said Harry. It wasn't as if the day could really get any weirder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, Hermione's parents had left. The whole morning had been almost surreal, and now, as Harry had time to come down from the anxiety, he realized how completely exhausted he was.

Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley was inclined to be indulgent, and allowed all four of them to forego another round of endless degnoming. The four of them trooped upstairs. Hermione hugged Ron tightly, then kissed him rather chastely on the cheek and told him she'd see him later, and went into Ginny's room. Ron headed upstairs, leaving Harry and Ginny suddenly alone in the corridor.

'Eventful morning,' said Ginny dryly. 

'That's one way to describe it,' said Harry. 'That was a hell of a close call, actually.'

'No kidding,' said Ginny, grinning. 'And all thanks to you and me. We make a good team, Potter.

'Yeah, I guess we do, Weasley,' said Harry, chucking her on the chin.

'Ron and Hermione owe us, of course,' said Ginny.

'You're right,' said Harry. 'They do. What should we make them do for us?'

'Do our homework for us?' Ginny suggested.

'No good,' said Harry. 'One of us would be stuck with Ron.'

'Good point,' said Ginny, smiling. 'Bloody hell, I'm tired.' And then she went and did it again. She yawned and did that back stretching thing. Harry tried not to look at the way her body moved beneath the t-shirt, the way it stretched across her breasts...

'Harry?' said Ginny. 'Are you okay?'

'What?' said Harry, and then he felt the back of his neck burn. 

_Shit, did she just catch me ogling her breasts?_

'Is it your scar?' she said, reaching up to touch his forehead. In so doing she moved closer to him and brought those breasts right up close, where they grazed his arm. It was just the briefest brush against his skin, but it was enough.

_Bloody hell, those are soft..._

_Ron's **SISTER, you sick perv!**_

'It doesn't hurt,' said Harry, his voice feeling very croaky all of a sudden. What the hell was wrong with him?

'Well, that's good,' said Ginny, backing up a bit. 'Why don't you get some rest, you must be knackered.'

'I am,' said Harry, 'a bit.'

'See you later, then?' said Ginny. 'We can come up with a plan for revenge, yeah?' She put her hand on his arm. Her touch was cool and comforting.

'Sounds good,' said Harry, keeping his eyes firmly on her face, which wasn't quite as freckly as Ron's. He tried to ignore her hand on his arm.

'G'night then,' said Ginny, backing up into her room with a warm smile. 'Or good morning, as they case may be.'

'Sleep well,' Harry heard himself say as she closed her door. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and started up the stairs to Ron's room.

It was official. Something was Wrong with him.

He was having impure thoughts about Ginny. GINNY. Ron's little sister. The kid who used to have that crazy schoolgirl crush on him. The girl who used to put her elbow in the butter dish because of him.

Not anymore, she's over you.

Was THAT why he was starting to notice her? Because she was no longer available?

Harry didn't like the implications of that idea. Actually, he didn't like the implications of any of it. Okay, so Ginny was cute. Really cute. And she had a lovely figure. And really great breasts...

_Knock it off!_

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it of Ginny, but it was impossible. 

_I'm just horny, that's all it is. Horny and lonely and pathetic. I'll bet I get to school and start noticing all the other girls' breasts. Come to think of it, Parvati has a pretty good set..._

_Parvati has a pretty good everything. Lavender's not bad, either--nice legs on her. And...oh yeah, I heard her and Seamus going at it in the showers that time, and she sounds like she'd be wild, no, I KNOW she'd be wild because she screamed her head off..._

_There, see! You're thinking naughty thoughts about Parvati, too! And Lavender! You're hardly even FRIENDS with them, you think they're vain and silly,  and you're thinking dirty thoughts about them! Because you're horny and lonely and pathetic. That's all. It doesn't mean anything. It's normal. So...thinking about Ginny's breasts, her really, really pretty breasts brushing up against your arm...it doesn't mean anything. It only means you're really horny and...great. Now you're in pain, too. Stupid erections._

He groaned inwardly as he opened the door to Ron's room and dragged himself over to his cot. Ron was already asleep, sprawled out his bed and snoring lightly, his arm thrown over his face. 

And Harry was facing a...growing problem in his trousers because Ginny just HAD to go and do that back stretching thing and brush her bosom up against his arm. Breasts should be outlawed. 

_You're in pain, and you can't take care of it, either, because wanking in your best friend's room while he's sleeping is really, really wrong and disgusting and...hey, that helped. _

_Snape in a dress.__ That helps, too. Thank god. I've lost count how many times I've flown solo since Susan dumped me._

Harry forced himself to think of a few more nasty images as he lay down on the cot, but then he realized that perhaps such images wouldn't lead to pleasant dreams, so he turned his thoughts to History of Magic lessons, which were so boring that just thinking about them made one almost catatonic.

Harry's eyes drifted shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was in the Astronomy Tower, with Susan. They were kissing. Her lips were soft and her tongue tasted of strawberries, and she was sighing into his mouth as he gently unbraided her hair. Merlin, he loved her hair, loved that she never seemed to wear it loose except when they were in bed together. Her hair came loose and flowed over his fingers, all auburn shine and softness, and he pulled her down on top of him on a pile of cushions. She began to unbutton his shirt and her hair tickled him across his chest as she kissed him, and then he rolled her over and was on top of her and murmuring things in her ear, and his hands were caressing her breasts as his mouth devoured hers...

He was in his room. Susan was speaking to him in a low voice, and her eyes were filled with tears. Harry was pleading with her, but she kept shaking her head, and backed out of the room. Her hair was in the plait again, and as he reached out, watching her go, his hands felt bereft, and he knew he'd never get to touch her hair again...

He was sitting by the lake, after a fly. His Firebolt was resting next to him. He was trying not to think about her. Someone sat next to him. Ginny. It was hard to look at her. Because of her hair. Not that Ginny's hair was the same as Susan's. It wasn't. Susan's was more brown with red in it; Ginny's was pure copper. But Ginny's hair was the same long, wavy silkiness that flowed down her back like a river, and Harry wondered if he'd ever look at girls with beautiful, wavy hair and not want to wrap himself up in it. Or feel sick at heart that he couldn't touch it...

He was crying, on Ginny's shoulders, but he didn't feel stupid, because she had her arm round his shoulder and was stroking his head with her free hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry woke up a few hours later, feeling surprisingly refreshed. He looked over to Ron's bed and saw that it was empty, and smirked. It almost never happened, but occasionally, Ron did get out of bed before him.

Harry pulled on his trainers and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Along the way he passed Ginny's bedroom and noticed that Hermione's trunk and Crookshanks' cage were stored neatly inside; Crookshanks was sprawled on the spare bed, sleeping. Harry continued down to the kitchen, and upon reaching it, he stopped in his tracks. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were all sitting at the table with Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody.

'Uh...hi,' said Harry hesitantly.

I was wrong, he thought. The day could get weirder.

'Potter,' said Moody curtly.

'Hello, Harry, said Lupin. 'You must be wondering why we're here.'

'Well, yeah,' said Harry, glancing at Ron. Ron shrugged his shoulders; he clearly didn't know, either. Harry sat down slowly at the table, across from Lupin and Moody.

'It's nothing terrible,' said Lupin reassuringly. 'I'm just here to go over the Apparition training schedules with you and Ron and Hermione.'

'Hermione?' said Harry. 'But she's not old enough--'

'Special dispensation from the Ministry,' Lupin interrupted. 'On recommendation from Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.'

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was blushing and looking at her hands.

'We thought it would make things easier on all of you if you could train together,' Lupin went on. 'If Hermione waits until she's seventeen, she'd have to wait until the winter holidays from school. I think Dumbledore would like her trained up as much as you and Ron sooner rather than later.'

'Okay,' said Harry.

'There is a small wrinkle,' said Lupin. 

'There always is,' said Harry dryly. 

'The training starts on the first of August,' said Lupin. 'It's likely that you'll still be testifying against Lucius Malfoy on that day, which means you could go into the first training session feeling, well...'

'Not at my best,' Harry finished.

'That's right,' said Lupin. 'I asked about starting the training a few days later but the Ministry is short on Aurors who can take the time out to teach the course; Kenneth was the only one available on short notice, and that was the only time he had available.'

'Why does an Auror have to teach it?' Ron asked.

'Well, technically an Auror doesn't have to,' said Lupin, 'but Aurors tend to Apparate far more frequently than most; they have a lot more field experience doing it, and the Ministry feels that this makes them better candidates for teaching the proper safety techniques involved and the like. In any event, you all probably know by now that Apparating under emotionally stressful conditions is more dangerous. I just wanted to give you, Harry, fair warning.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, trying not to sound too glum. 

'One other thing, Harry,' said Lupin. 'I'll be by on Friday to take you to the Chief Prosecutor's office for your witness preparation. He wants you there at six o'clock. The session will take about three hours, and you'll go back the following day to go over everything one more time. The Chief Prosecutor asks that you take notes of the sessions and study the questions he'll give you; it'll help you when you get up on the stand.'

'Okay,' said Harry, his heart feeling heavy. Suddenly he wished he'd stayed in bed.

'I know this isn't much fun for you, Harry,' said Lupin kindly. 

'You could say that,' said Harry, casting a glance at Ron, then Hermione, then Ginny; Ginny gave him a sympathetic smile, and the tightness in his stomach eased a bit.

'You'll get through this,' said Lupin, standing up and putting a hand on his shoulder. 'We'll help you.'

'We all will,' said Ginny softly. Harry smiled gratefully at her before standing up and shaking Lupin's hand.

'Thanks,' he said. 'I mean it.'

Lupin smiled and nodded, and then he and Moody left, using the fireplace.

'Well, now that's done, you lot must be hungry,' said Mrs. Weasley bracingly, and she went into the pantry and fetched some things to prepare lunch.

The meal was quiet. Ron ate his usual three helpings. Hermione nibbled her food daintily and Mrs. Weasley repeatedly urged her to eat up. Harry ate two sandwiches and plenty of salad, more to keep Mrs. Weasley from needling him about food than out of any serious hunger on his part. Ginny took a sandwich and proceeded to scrape the butter off the bread with her knife.

Half an hour later, they helped Mrs. Weasley clean up; she then announced she was going to Order Headquarters for a meeting. She left via the fireplace a few minutes later, in a whirl of green flames.

For a long moment after she'd gone, nobody said anything. Harry looked up again and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him, concern etched on their faces. He wished they wouldn't do that--look at him like he was about to crack. Not that he didn't appreciate their concern. But hadn't he already told Ron he wasn't going to lose it? Why did they always have to fuss?

He looked over at Ginny, and her expression was entirely different. She was smiling, just slightly; her eyes flickered over to Ron and Hermione, then back at him, and he understood her meaning at once.

_I know exactly how you feel,_ the look said. _Them fussing over us like we're glass ornaments and we're going to break._

Harry smiled back at her, drawn up in her eyes. It really was something, he decided, the way she could look at you and know what you were thinking. Was she a telepath or something? Or maybe it was a girl thing. 

'Anyone for Quidditch?' she said brightly.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Ron?'

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, then looked at Harry.

'Actually,' said Ron hesitantly, 'um, Hermione...and me...thought we'd go for a swim.'

'With or without swimming costumes?' said Ginny in a bored voice.

'Ginny!' Ron and Hermione both yelled; Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. 

'But we don't have to go,' said Hermione through gritted teeth, as she turned back to Harry. 'That is, if...well, you don't want us to...'

'Hermione,' said Harry, in as patient a voice as he could muster. 'I'm fine. Okay? You and Ron go...swimming. Ginny and I can practice Quidditch.'

'Are you sure?' Ron said.

'Positive,' said Harry, forcing himself to smile. _Honestly, these two, he thought. They're so afraid they'll offend me by going off to have a shag. Like I care._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron and Hermione were gone for most of the afternoon. Harry didn't blame them--if he had a girlfriend and the opportunity to shag presented itself...

_You told them it didn't bother you._

_It doesn't. It really doesn't. But...well, yeah. They're together and I'm...alone. _

'Harry, heads up!'

Harry looked up just in time to see a beat up Quaffle hurling at him; he reached up and caught it with one hand.

'Nice catch,' said Ginny, and she circled round the yard on her Nimbus 2001. 'Considering how distracted you are.'

'Sorry,' said Harry, tossing the Quaffle back to her. 

Ginny zoomed over to him on her broom and came to a neat stop next to him, and they hovered about fifteen feet above the ground.

'I know how you feel,' she said.

Harry looked up. 'Do you?'

'Yeah,' said Ginny. 'You're over the worst of it, the part where it hurts just to think about her, and now you're in that lonely, horny stage.'

Harry gave a kind of choked laugh and nearly fell off his broom.

'Ginny!' he managed.

'What?' she said defensively. 'Don't act so shocked, Harry. I've been there.'

'You've been dumped?'

'Yeah,' said Ginny shrugging. 

'When? Who?'

'Dean,' said Ginny. 

'Wait, I thought you and Dean...that was mutual,' said Harry.

'I only said that so Ron wouldn't break the guy's legs,' said Ginny. 'But yeah, Dean dumped me.'

'Why?' Harry asked, knowing even as he did that it was none of his business.

'I wouldn't have sex with him,' said Ginny matter-of-factly.

'He dumped you for that?' said Harry indignantly. 'That's...well, that's really shitty!'

'Yeah, it was,' said Ginny, tossing the Quaffle lightly up and down.

Harry watched her for a second, and the something occurred to him.

'Um, Ginny,' he said. 'Uh...if you...never had sex with Dean...how d'you know about the, well, the lonely...horny...pathetic...desperate thing?'

Ginny laughed. 'You're in a really bad way, aren't you?'

Harry blushed scarlet. 'Not that bad,' he mumbled, looking down. 'So, how do you know--'

'Harry, one doesn't have to have had sex to know what horny feels like,' Ginny said. 'There's lot of other stuff, you know.'

'I know,' he muttered, as his face continued to burn, as he wondered just what other stuff she had done.

He couldn't believe this. He was talking about sex with Ginny. The only thing that could make the day weirder at this point was to sit down to tea with Voldemort.

'You...don't seem too cut up about it,' said Harry slowly. 'The break up, I mean.'

'Well, I was,' said Ginny. 'It was horrible at the time. I really fell for him, you know? I really didn't think I would but...I did. So, yeah, when he dumped me, it hurt.' She flipped the Quaffle at him, and he caught it.

'He told you he was dumping you because you...you wouldn't have sex with him?' said Harry, tossing the Quaffle back.

'Oh, no,' said Ginny. 'No, he told me that he was too mature for me. That he needed to be with a girl who could share everything with him. No, his exact words were...all of herself.'

'He really said that?' said Harry, as he caught the Quaffle from her again.

'Yeah, he did,' said Ginny. 'The best part, though, was when he told me I had "issues with trust" and that I was "emotionally stunted" because I didn't trust him enough to have sex with him.' She caught the Quaffle neatly and passed it back to him again.

'What a load of bullshit,' said Harry, catching the Quaffle and flipping it back to her. 

'Mmm, you could say that,' said Ginny as she caught the Quaffle one-handed; no mean feat, considering what tiny hands she had. 

'But,' she went on, tossing the Quaffle up in the air and catching it, 'I have to say, it was by the far the most creative load of bullshit I've ever heard from a bloke.'

'He's a stupid arse, that's what he is,' said Harry fervently. 'No wonder you didn't tell Ron. Dean'd still be in a coma.'

'Yeah,' said Ginny, sounding wistful. 'Almost makes me wish I HAD told Ron the truth. I think I'm too nice for my own good. Oh well, Dean's loss in the end.' She tossed the Quaffle to him and he caught it.

He gazed at her with something like...wonder. The more he got to know her the more she confused him. She was so tough and resilient, but she had horrible nightmares of Tom Riddle that reduced her to tears. She'd had her heart broken by Dean Thomas but here she was, talking about it as if it didn't bother her in the least anymore. 

'How do you do it?' he asked, without thinking.

'Do what?'

'I dunno, be so...optimistic?' he said.

She shrugged again, but her eyes became evasive and she didn't look at him.

'Life's too short to wallow,' was all she said. 'And speaking of wallowing, why are we doing that now? Toss me the Quaffle, Potter.'

He looked at her for a long moment; it was obvious she wasn't telling him the truth. Ironic, he thought considering how good a liar she could be when she felt like it.

'I'm waiting,' Ginny said, putting her hand on her hip and arching her eyebrows.

He forced a grin and pitched her the Quaffle, and they passed it back and forth as they flew. The whole time Harry wondered about what she wasn't telling him.

________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: I know, fluff galore. This is scene is inspired by a few Harry and Ginny on Brooms scenes in stories by the lovely author Shezzly. Hopefully the fluffiness is not too much, or too boring! More drama to come in the next several chapters, and of course we'll be hearing from our favorite red-haired Keeper.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Ron's Vision

_Chapter Nine: Ron's Vision_

It was late in the afternoon when Ron and Hermione gathered their things to head back to the Burrow.

To say that Ron was in a good mood would be an understatement. He was so bloody happy his feet barely seemed to touch the ground. Hermione was going back to school. With him. 

But now it was time to go back, to the house, and to reality. Ron felt a small pang somewhere in his solar plexus. They were together again, but they couldn't very well spend every afternoon like this, sneaking off by themselves to picnic under the willow tree and go swimming and make love on a blanket. Harry was there, and he needed them. 

Ron looked over at Hermione for a moment as she scooped up her damp, heavy hair in her hands and tied it in a sloppy bun. Then she bent over to pick up the blanket, and Ron couldn't help gazing appreciatively at her derriere.

She stood up, folding the small blanket, when she caught him staring at her.

'What?'

'Just...admiring you,' Ron muttered, blushing.

She blushed a little, too, and smiled, and said, 'We really should get back.'

'I know,' said Ron, and he sat down on the grass to put on his trainers; those on, he stood up, picking up his shirt from the ground. He shook it out and started to put it on when he noticed that she was staring at him.

'What?' he said, feeling very self-conscious. It was silly, really, to feel embarrassed. She'd seen him naked before, after all.

She smiled, a bit cheekily. 'I'm just admiring you.'

At this, Ron REALLY blushed, but he felt absurdly pleased, too. Well, he wasn't the lanky kid he used to be; he had some hard earned muscles thanks to all the Quidditch. And he knew he wasn't particularly handsome, but she was smiling at him like she thought so. He resisted the urge to toss his shirt aside and strike some manly pose. But he couldn't resist giving her his trademark lopsided grin.

'See something you like?' 

'Maybe,' she said, shrugging. Merlin, she was teasing him. She never did that. Well, almost never. He walked over to her in two long strides, his shirt clutched in one fist. He put his arms round her waist and picked her up; she was so light in his arms. She gave a little squeak as he twirled her around, her arms going round his neck and dropping the blanket.

They kissed, and kept on kissing as he set her down, but in the back of his mind Ron remembered that they were supposed to be going back to the house. He broke away.

'We have to go,' he said reluctantly.

'I know,' she said, smiling. She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him quickly on the mouth; he kissed the tip of her nose, then stepped back and pulled on his t-shirt. She picked up the blanket and folded it under one arm as Ron took her hand in his, and they started back.

'It was a lovely afternoon,' Hermione said, smiling.

'I'll say,' Ron agreed, grinning. 'This sex stuff is bloody magnificent.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Men, honestly,' she said. 'Is that all you think about?'

'No,' said Ron, pretending to be indignant. 'We think about Quidditch, too.'

She swatted him on the arm and giggled, and he threw his arm round her shoulder and kissed her on the temple.

'Ron?' she said suddenly, looking up at him.

'What, love?'

'What did you say to my dad?' she asked. 'This morning?'

Ron felt his ears go hot. 'Oh, that,' he managed. 'Uh...nothing much.'

'Ron,' said Hermione, in her Don't Give Me That voice, and she stopped walking and tugged on his hand. 'What?'

'I guess I just told him,' said Ron slowly, 'that I'd take care of you.'

She narrowed her eyes, and he wondered if he'd screwed up somehow.

'I mean,' he said quickly, 'not that you NEED me to take care of you. You don't. You're totally capable of taking care of yourself. I know that, I've seen you do it. So I don't want you to think that I'm being a sexist prat or anything, because I'm not. You're the toughest, bravest girl I've ever met and I told your dad that, actually, and--'

'Ron!' said Hermione, and she was smiling at him. 'That was really sweet of you.'

'It was?' said Ron. 

'Yes, it was,' said Hermione. 'And you do take care of me.'

Ron swallowed. 'I do?'

She nodded.

'Yeah, well, I just didn't want him to worry about you too much,' he managed.

'He'll worry anyway,' said Hermione. 'That's what fathers do, worry about their daughters. But I'm sure he appreciated you telling him.'

Something occurred to Ron. 'I didn't tell him just to, you know, get on his good side,' he said quickly. 'Well, okay, I figured it couldn't hurt, but--'

Hermione laughed. 'I know, Ron,' she said, and before he could say anything else that was stupid, she leaned up and kissed him.

He kissed her back, and smiled. 'You take care of me, too,' he said, not caring how corny that sounded.

'I do my best,' she said, shrugging. 'You need all the help you can get.'

'Ha ha,' he said, and he mussed up her hair, and she giggled, and then he reached out to tickle her...

And suddenly she was gone. And in front of his eyes was only blackness, as he felt himself spinning, and falling...

Ron gasped and pulled out his wand and whirled around, looking for her, but Hermione wasn't there. And he wasn't in the woods anymore.

_He was in a vast, crowded, noisy room. There were two rows of long benches that took up most of the space; they were packed with people. At the front of the room stood a massive daïs, raised about six feet above the marble floor. An imposing looking wizard Ron didn't know was sitting behind the daïs, looking stern but saying nothing. Perpendicular to the daïs were two more long benches, one behind the other; they were filled with at least a dozen wizards and witches. They were all watching and listening to something with deep interest. Ron blinked and followed their gaze. A witch was standing in the center of the room; she was tall, severe, and imposing and, Ron couldn't help noticing, very beautiful. She was pointing at something and her eyes were as cold as steel, accusatory. Ron looked to see where she was pointing, and felt his stomach lurch._

_Draco Malfoy was sitting in a massive wooden chair; his hands were clutching the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles were white, but his face was red with fury and tears streamed down his face. He yelled something, but Ron couldn't hear what it was, and then Draco, too, was pointing, and the wizard sitting behind the daïs was banging a gavel, but there was no sound. Ron turned to see where Draco was pointing and came face to face with Lucius Malfoy, whose eyes were as coldly grey as his son's, and yet where Draco's were full of anger, the elder Malfoy's were empty. And then Lucius Malfoy smiled. _

_A tiny, almost imperceptible smile, a curling of the lip, and it set a chill in Ron's blood. Draco Malfoy's eyes widened in terror, and his face drained of colour..._

'Ron!'

Ron blinked and gasped; the blood was pounding in his ears. 

'Ron!' That voice, it was familiar.

Hermione.

''Mione,' he heard himself croak. And then he noticed he was lying on the ground, and that his head ached; it felt as if a thousand mountain trolls had just pounded his skull with their clubs. He opened his eyes, and his vision was blurred.

And then Hermione came into focus.

She was leaning over him, her brown eyes wide with fear, her forehead crinkled with worry. She had her hand on his forehead.

'Ron,' she cried, and her eyes were shiny with tears. 'Are you okay?'

'What h-happened?' he groaned. He'd seen something, something unnerving, but that didn't explain how he'd seen it, or what he was doing lying on the ground with every muscle in his body aching.

'You...you blacked out,' said Hermione. 'Or something. One minute you were here and the next you...I don't know, it was like you went into a trance or something, and then...you fell.'

Ron squeezed his eyes shut. No, that couldn't be right. He'd left--he'd been somewhere else. A courtroom. Lucius Malfoy's trial. Draco was on the witness stand. A beautiful witch was pointing at him...

_I saw it, I know I did._

_Yes, you did,_ said the voice inside Ron's head. _But physically, you weren't there..._

_No, it can't be._

'Ron?' said Hermione, and she clutched one of his hands in her own as she used the other to smooth his hair back from his forehead. 'Ron, please tell me what happened. Do you remember?'

She helped him sit up, all the while soothing him with her fingers in his hair.

Ron looked at her and swallowed. 

'I think...I saw something,' he said, not wanting to believe it. 

_I can't be having visions now! I stopped having them last year. Well, okay, technically I had that one about Bellatrix Lestrange in the Riddle House but that was more than a month ago!_

'You had a vision?' Hermione breathed.

Ron closed his eyes again.

'Yeah,' he said, when he opened them again. 'I think...I think I did.'

Hermione stared at him in awe.

'What did you see?' she asked slowly.

'Lucius Malfoy's trial,' said Ron. 'Not...the whole thing, just a bit. There were all these people there and this witch was standing in the middle of the room and she was pointing at Draco Malfoy and...and he was crying and yelling and...and he pointed at his father and...Lucius Malfoy smiled.'

'He smiled?' said Hermione fearfully. 

'Well, he...smirked, more like,' said Ron.

'Why?'

'I dunno,' said Ron. 'But he looked...confident about something.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron and Hermione waited a good five minutes to allow Ron to come back to himself, and then they raced back to the Burrow; Ron tried to ignore the pounding in his head, without success.

Upon reaching the back door they flung it open to find Harry and Ginny in the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table, sipping lemonade and flipping through the latest issue of _Flying with the Cannons_, and Ginny was pouring lemonade for herself into a glass.

'Harry...' Ron gasped, winded from sprinting all the way back from the woods.

'Uh, hi,' said Harry, exchanging a glance with Ginny, and then grinning. 'Have a nice...swim?'

'Shut up, Harry,' said Hermione impatiently, taking Ron's hand and marching over to the kitchen table. 

'We have something to tell you,' said Ron, 'and...uh...Ginny, maybe you could...uh...'

'Ron, if this is about you possibly being a Seer, I know about that,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes and sipping her lemonade.

Ron gaped at Harry for a moment; Harry held up his hands.

'Hey, I didn't say a word,' he said. 'You know Ginny by now, don't you? Didn't last year teach you anything?'

Ron stared at Ginny, and she smiled in a mockingly sweet way.

'Shit,' said Ron, running a hand through his hair.

'Ron, don't--' Hermione began.

'Swear,' said Ron, Ginny and Harry together.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down primly across from Harry.

'What happened?' Harry asked, as Ginny sat next to him.

Ron glanced at Hermione for a moment, and then told them, fetching some lemonade for himself and his girlfriend.

Harry and Ginny were silent as Ron related the particulars of his vision; for Ron's part, he found that the more he talked about it, the less frightening the idea of having a vision seemed to be, and the more it helped him remember the details of things.

After he finished, Harry and Ginny both sat back in their chairs, pondering.

'You think Lucius Malfoy might be planning something for the trial?' he asked. 

'I dunno,' said Ron. 'But you should seen him, Harry. He was definitely smug about something. And Draco just went white, like he was terrified for some reason. Never seen that git look so scared.'

'Draco doesn't testify until Thursday afternoon,' said Ginny. 'Or at least, that's what _The Daily Prophet_ says. Right now they're just picking the jury.'

'So whatever you saw is a few days off, if it happens,' said Harry.

'Should we warn Dumbledore, do you think?' said Ron. 

'Maybe,' said Hermione. 'Draco could be in danger. His father already tried to have him killed once; he's not going to have any qualms about trying again, especially if Draco's testifying against him.'

Ron put his hands together on the table; he didn't really want to think about that, about Draco being in danger. Because that made Ron feel sorry for Draco, which was the last thing Ron wanted to do. 

'If Lucius Malfoy wanted to take out Draco,' said Harry slowly, 'he wouldn't do it at the trial. It'd be too risky. In fact, taking out Draco at all at this point would be too risky. Suspicion would automatically fall on Lucius.'

Ron found himself nodding, and taking up the theme. 'And besides, isn't Draco all messed up in the head right now? That's why he's in St. Mungo's.'

'Lupin told me that the Chief Prosecutor's worried that Draco'll crack on the stand,' said Harry. 'That's part of the reason they want me in there.'

'That witch in your vision, pointing at Draco,' said Ginny. 'Malfoy's lawyer, you think?'

'I guess,' said Ron. 'Makes sense, wouldn't it?'

'Did you recognize her?' Hermione asked. 

'No,' said Ron. 'I've never seen her before. But whatever she was saying was really upsetting to Draco.'

'So maybe what you saw is Draco having a breakdown on the stand,' Hermione suggested. 'Nothing else. It seems logical, anyway.'

'Yeah,' said Ron doubtfully. 'But...then why do I feel like...something's really wrong? Like something bad, really bad, is going to happen?'

'You think Malfoy is going to be acquitted?' said Harry.

'I don't know,' said Ron, feeling very frustrated. 'That, or...he could escape again. He did it once before.'

'Yes, but Ron, a lot of Voldemort's supporters are on the run now, and he suffered a lot of losses that night in the Riddle House,' said Hermione. 

'Exactly the reason to find a way to spring Lucius,' said Harry. 'He's one of Voldemort's closest allies. The state Voldemort's in right now, he's going to need all the help he can get...'

Harry's voice trailed off, and he flushed and looked down at his hands quickly. Ron sensed it immediately--Harry had let something slip. Something about Voldemort...

He started to speak but Hermione beat him to it.

'Harry,' she said slowly. 'What do you mean, "the state Voldemort's in right now"?'

Harry looked over at Ginny; his eyes were pleading and she looked very sympathetic; Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The two of them knew something that he and Hermione did not.

'What's up?' he asked, a bit more sharply than he intended.

Harry's eyes were fixed on Ginny; he looked inquisitive. Ginny gave him a small nod, as if to say 'It's okay.' He kept looking at her, and her eyes widened; she seemed to shrink just a bit before nodding again and looking down at her own hands.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and cleared his throat.

'I hadn't mentioned this yet,' said Harry, 'but...I guess it's time I tell you...'

And with that, Harry launched into a long monologue. About how Voldemort got injured, badly, in the battle at the Riddle House. How he had used Harry's blood to return to his body. How Harry's blood was spilled, somehow, on the flagstones of the front walk of the house, but how that blood couldn't have come from Harry's body. How Harry had managed, somehow, to hurt Voldemort, enough to draw blood. How Harry's scar had stopped hurting for several weeks immediately afterward, but last night had started hurting again.

'Depending on what you did, then,' said Hermione, 'to hurt Voldemort, I mean, that could be the way to...to kill him.'

'I'd thought of that,' said Harry. 'But the problem is, I don't KNOW what I did to hurt him.'

'We'll just have to figure that out somehow,' said Hermione, in her most determined voice. Ron tried not to smile; he couldn't help but love it when she got that way.

'What about your scar? You said just last night it started hurting again?' Hermione went on. 'How bad was it?'

'Pretty bad,' said Harry. 'But I didn't get any emotion from Voldemort. It was just pain.'

'You think your scar stopped hurting because Voldemort was injured?' Hermione asked.

'Maybe,' said Harry. 'It sort of makes sense.'

'Hmm,' said Hermione, nodding. 'So I guess if your scar is acting up again that could mean he's recovered. But...still...it's a bit odd for you to feel nothing for that long and then it suddenly hurts really badly. Are you sure you weren't having a bad dream? Maybe that's what set it off.'

'No,' said Harry, and he was looking at his hands again and worrying them. Ginny was looking at him with a kind of worried expression on her face.

That settles it, Ron thought. Something is up with these two. They still haven't told us everything.

And then Ron felt his stomach lurch. Good lord, Harry and Ginny hadn't...no, that was impossible...they hadn't...had they?

'Harry?' said Hermione. 'Is there something you're not...telling us?' Her tone was surprisingly gentle.

Harry looked up, but not at Hermione.

'Ginny,' he said. 'I think...I think I should tell them.'

Ginny bit her lip. Ron felt his muscles tense. Good god. They had. 

'Last night when I woke up and my scar was hurting...' Harry said slowly. 'I heard something from upstairs. Initially I thought...it was you two...you know...'

Ron and Hermione looked at one another and blushed fiercely.

'Um...' said Hermione awkwardly.

'No,' said Ron, staring at the surface of the table as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. 'Uh...we did a Silencing Charm on my door,' he added in a mumble.

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry. 'Turns out it wasn't you I heard. It was...Ginny.'

Ron felt his stomach swoop unpleasantly. Good lord, where was this story going?

'Ginny,' he heard himself say. 'You...heard her...'

Dear god, he couldn't bring himself to think about it.

'I was having a nightmare, you sick perv,' Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes. 'Honestly, Ron.' But her face was bright red, and she was looking down as well.

'Well, how was I supposed to know?' Ron said defensively.

'Look, Ron,' said Harry quickly, 'I heard Ginny, she was having a really bad nightmare but I didn't know that, I thought someone might have gotten into her room and was attacking her--'

'And you didn't wake me up?' Ron yelled, ignoring Hermione's grip on his arm. Ginny buried her face in her hands.

'You had a Silencing Charm on your door, remember?' Harry retorted. 'And anyway, I thought if I took the time to fetch you, if she was being attacked that...it would have been too late so...so I went in and she was having this really bad nightmare. About...Tom Riddle.'

Ron sat up straight in his chair.

'You had a nightmare about Riddle and you didn't tell me?' he said, half-angry, half-relieved that it was only that. 'Why not?'

Ginny lowered her hands and started to speak, but Harry beat her to it.

'Because she knew you'd freak out, that's why,' he said. 'Can't imagine why she thought that.'

Ginny bit back a giggle, and Harry smiled at her.

'Well, excuse me for being concerned for my little sister's welfare,' Ron mumbled defensively.

'Ron, I'm fine,' said Ginny. 'It was just a stupid nightmare, okay? Harry woke me up and everything was fine.'

'Is that all that happened?' Ron heard himself say.

Ginny rolled her eyes again. 'Of course that's all that happened,' she said, in her most exasperated voice. But Ron noticed that Harry was blushing quite deeply at that moment. Maybe Ginny was telling the truth, but dammit, Ron was sure there was something going on here that they weren't telling him.

'Really?' Ron persisted.

'We talked,' said Ginny, and now it was Harry burying his face in his hands. 'Okay, Dad? We talked about my dream, and then Harry told me about how Lupin thinks he hurt Voldemort, and then he mentioned his scar hurting, and I wondered if there was a connection.'

'A connection?' Hermione repeated, and then her eyes went wide. 'between Harry's scar hurting and your nightmare?'

Ron felt the colour drain from his face. 'I don't like the sound of that.'

'Ron, it could be nothing,' said Ginny. 'It could be a coincidence.' But she didn't look all that convinced about that.

'Harry,' said Ron slowly. 'Do you...have you gotten any visions or flashes from Voldemort lately?'

'No,' said Harry. 'Nothing. Just the pain in my scar, and just that one bit of time last night. But...Voldemort threatened Ginny that night and...we both know what it's like having him inside our heads. Maybe...maybe he'll try to exploit that or something.'

'I knew it,' said Ron, standing up abruptly from his chair. 'That sick bastard--'

'Ron,' said Ginny. 'Calm down.'

'I will not calm down!' Ron yelled. 'Bloody hell. Bad enough he's got it out for my best mate. Now he's going for you, too?'

'We don't know that for sure!' Ginny retorted. 

'Why not?' Ron shot back. 'He did it once already, didn't he?'

'Oh, for heaven's SAKE, all of you SHUT UP!' Hermione yelled.

Everyone did, long enough to gape at her. Ron bit his lip. 

'Sorry,' they all mumbled.

'Honestly, you three,' she said, her voice now softer but still scolding. 'Look, it's obvious Voldemort is up to...SOMETHING. When is he not, really? But we're not going to get anywhere trying to figure it out by yelling all the time.'

'What do you suggest, then, Hermione?' Harry asked sharply.

'Let's sit down and make a list,' she said.

'A list,' Harry repeated. 'How does that help us?'

'It'll help organize our thoughts, of course!' Hermione said exasperatedly, throwing up her hands. 'Honestly, don't you ever read detective novels?'

'No,' the three of them said.

'We don't read for fun, Hermione,' said Ginny, smirking. 'Remember?'

'Fine,' said Hermione. 

'And what does detective fiction have to do with--' Harry began.

'In detective novels,' said Hermione, through gritted teeth, 'when a detective is trying to solve a mystery he or she will often make a list of clues. It helps him or her to organize his or her thoughts so that he or she can eventually come up with a logical conclusion.' She said all this in a tone that suggested that anyone over the age of four ought to be able to get this concept, and if not, that person was an idiot.

'Oh,' said Harry, looking humbled.

'Makes sense,' Ron admitted.

'Good,' said Hermione sarcastically. 'Now, why don't I go upstairs and fetch some parchment and a quill, and we can write down everything we know so far. And I think we should do this every time something weird happens. Whether Ron has a vision, or Harry, or Ginny has a nightmare or anything of the sort, okay?'

'That could take up a lot of parchment,' said Harry.

'And how do we know all that stuff is helpful?' said Ron.

'We don't,' said Hermione. 'But good detectives look over their lists and over time they can figure out what clues are real and which ones are just red herrings. And if we have all this stuff written down it's a lot easier to make connections, between events or circumstances or whatever. And we can cross-reference, which helps narrow things down even further. Look, I'll put together the lists--I'm used to this sort of thing; I do it all the time for my Arithmancy classes.'

She gave them a hopeful look, and her eyes were alight with the same intensity they always got when she came upon not only a great idea, but was anticipating the tackling of some seemingly insurmountable intellectual problem.

Ron, Harry and Ginny exchanged glances.

It was hard to argue with Hermione's logic; her idea made perfect sense, even if it seemed like a lot of busy work. But then, she was a whiz at busy work. More than that, she actually enjoyed it. Ron would never admit it but he had always thought she looked incredibly sexy in moments like this, when he could almost see the wheels in her head turning as her incredible mind sorted through complicated stuff.

'Okay,' said Harry. 'Yeah, that'd be great, Hermione.'

'We're in,' said Ron, and Ginny nodded.

Hermione's face lit up with a smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed quickly. That very night Hermione wrote a long, detailed letter to Dumbledore explaining all the information they had. Dumbledore wrote back almost at once, telling them to keep investigating, and that he had told Minister Bones of a possible threat during the days Draco Malfoy testified against his father. The next day, a brief article in _The Daily Prophet mentioned extra security was being used for the trial._

Days were spent cleaning up round the house and working in the garden. Afternoons, Ron, Ginny and Harry practiced Quidditch, while Hermione did homework. Ron felt guilty about not working on his, but Hermione, for once, didn't pester any of them. She was, after all, taking more classes than they were. Advanced Arithmancy alone was going to be especially demanding. 

In the evenings, after dinner, they all did homework. As expected Ron was able to get more done with Hermione there to both nag and encourage him. Of course, the difficulty of having her there was that he kept wanting to carry her off to his room for a snog or a shag, but the way things were going now, it looked as though quality time alone with Hermione would be scarce. The only thing he could do was accept it.

Hermione went to work on her List at once. She started with everything they'd talked about recently, but then she tentatively asked Ron if perhaps he might want to include any dream events to the list that he thought were relevant. He seized on this at once and asked her if, in fact, she wouldn't mind looking over his dream journal and helping him determine if he was missing anything. She did, but on one occasion her cheeks went pink as she read a particular page, and her eyes went wide, and from then on she only read the diary when she was alone.

On the night of the 28th, Remus Lupin showed up to take Harry to the Ministry for the witness preparation session. Harry took the time to dress as carefully as he could, considering his clothes were hand-me-downs from his overlarge cousin, but his hair was still pretty much hopeless. He carried his schoolbag with him and gave a wave as he and Lupin disappeared into the green flames. 

'Do you think he'll be okay?' Hermione asked worriedly.

'He'd better be,' said Ron.

Two hours later, Ron and Hermione were on the sofa; Ron was struggling through a Herbology assignment and Hermione was writing furiously on parchment, adding to The List. Mrs. Weasley owled to announce she was going to the Ministry to meet up with Harry and Lupin after the witness prep session, to bring Harry home with her. Ginny had gone up to her room, complaining of a headache. Ron started to ask about that but she gave him a look that said, _Drop it. I'm fine. Quit fussing._

So he did. But he worried anyway, even as he returned his attention to his Herbology homework. He was just putting down something good when he felt Hermione sit back on the sofa.

'What?' Ron asked, not looking up from his essay.

'I was just...thinking about your dream diary,' she said. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her twirling a lock of hair round her finger.

He looked up. 'What about it?'

'Your dreams are really...vivid,' she said, and she blushed a little.

'Oh,' said Ron, and he felt his face get hot. 'Yeah, well...'

'You should have told me about the sex dreams,' she said. 'I mean, before I started using the diary for research.'

'I sort of forgot about them,' he said. 'I mean, at that moment I did. I was caught up in all the stuff about Harry and Voldemort and...I'm sorry. I...are you offended? You're offended, aren't you?'

'No,' she said. 'I just...well, I wasn't exactly prepared for it, that's all. It was a little embarrassing to read about you ravishing me in the shower while we were all sitting here in the living room.'

Ron's whole face was burning now. 'Sorry,' he said. 'I really didn't mean...sorry.'

He felt really stupid, and a bit ashamed. The fact was, most of his sex dreams about Hermione tended toward the raw side of things, instead of the romantic. 

'It's okay,' she said. 'I rather enjoyed reading them.'

At that moment, she could have knocked Ron over with a feather.

'You did?' he breathed. 

She flushed and nodded quickly, and looked down at her hands. Well, that did it. Ron was officially Turned On. 

'I did,' she said, looking up at him. 'Why don't you...'

'What?' said Ron, clenching his fists.

'Why don't you ever just...you know...grab me and kiss me?' she asked. 

'Oh,' said Ron, feeling stung. Was she actually...criticizing his...his technique? His approach? 

'I don't do that because it's rude,' he said, a bit defensively. 'I'm just trying to put your feelings first.'

'Don't get upset,' said Hermione quickly, putting a hand on his arm. 'I know you're putting my feelings first. And it's so thoughtful and sweet and...and I love you for it.'

'Yeah?' said Ron, feeling a bit better. 'Well, good.'

'It's just,' she said, 'you dream about doing that and I wonder why.'

Ron flushed. 'I dunno.'

'I think you do,' said Hermione. 'I think you'd like to...to have your way with me like that but you haven't tried to because you're worried about what I'd think.'

'Yeah, there is that,' said Ron, more harshly than he intended. What was she on about? Was she trying to make him feel stupid, or...or not very...GOOD?

'Ron,' said Hermione, her voice now edged with impatience. 'Has it ever occurred to you that sometimes a girl likes it when her boyfriend makes the first move? That maybe a little aggression is okay?'

'Yes,' he said, now feeling very defensive, and wondering why they were arguing. 

'Well?' she said, putting her hands on her hips.

'Well...what?' he asked. 'You asked me a question and I answered it.'

'Oh!' she groaned, and suddenly she was stacking up her books and parchment and her quill. She got up and moved her things to a corner table.

'Where are you going?' Ron asked, amazed that she would just walk out when, apparently, they were in a strop with one another.

'I'm going to bed,' she said loftily. 

He gaped as she turned on her heel and started toward the stairs. What on earth...

What IS it with women? One minute they're nice and wonderful and you feel great about life and the next minute they're completely messing with your head and you don't know which way is up...

And suddenly something clunked in Ron's brain.

He threw down his quill and followed her, catching up to her quickly with his long strides; she was halfway up the stairs to Ginny's room when he grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her around.

'Ron, what--'

He silenced her with a wicked, almost bruising kiss. For a split second she didn't move, and he waited for her to slap him, but then she whimpered and threw her arms round his neck, and they stumbled until her back was pressed against the wall. Her hands tangled in his hair as he plundered her mouth with his, and then trailed his lips and tongue down to her neck, where he kissed and nipped at the skin there.

'Mmm, god...Ron...' he heard her gasp, and then she moaned and that was all it took for all the blood in his head to race south. She pulled him closer to her and pressed her pelvis against him, and his hands moved beneath her baggy t-shirt and found her breasts. She ground up against him and he bit back a groan as her legs moved apart and he settled between them, lifting her up and propping her against the wall; she was so light he was able to hold her there and grind against her, and suddenly he remembered reading, in Wyatt What's His Name's book that sex could be done standing up, and the thought thrilled him beyond imagining; the thrill only became more acute when she wrapped her legs firmly round his hips and interlocked her ankles.

'Bloody hell,' he rasped.

'Upstairs...' she whispered in his ear, before nibbling on it and sending shivers all through him. Yes, upstairs--they couldn't very well do it right outside Ginny's room.

Sweet Merlin, this is hot, he thought, as he kissed her again and started to carry her, holding her under her bottom, her legs still round him, up the stairs. I wonder if she'll get hacked off if I do rip off her clothes...

WHOOSH!

'Ron! Ginny! Hermione! We're home!'

The sound of two people Flooing into the kitchen, coupled with Mrs. Weasley's voice, brought reality crashing down on Ron so hard he nearly dropped Hermione. She stifled a squeak as he caught her and set her down as quietly as he could on the staircase.

'H-hi, Mum!' Ron called, and he and Hermione quickly began smoothing their clothes, their hair, all the while taking deep breaths.

'You go first,' Ron muttered. 'Downstairs.'

'Why me?' Hermione hissed.

'Because I have a visible problem and I have to deal with it,' Ron hissed back. Hermione's eyes dropped down and then she bit back a giggle.

'It's times like these I'm glad I'm a girl,' she whispered, before gliding downstairs, cool and collected, to greet Mrs. Weasley and Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Ron and Harry climbed into their beds in Ron's room, exhausted. Ron was still feeling the effects of his vision--his headache had never completely gone away. And of course there was the sexual frustration, which caused an ache...elsewhere. Harry looked tired and grumpy, and he said nothing about the witness prep session at all during the time Mrs. Weasley bustled about making herbal tea for all of them. Ginny hadn't come down, and the rest of them managed to stay up another hour before giving up and turning in. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances a few times, but Ron found it very difficult to look at her without thinking of what had happened on the staircase. And then it occurred to him that this was the second time they'd snogged on a staircase. He wondered if there was something sexy about staircases that he didn't know about.

And of course, he wondered about Hermione. She kept surprising him. He'd known her forever and she'd always seemed so uptight. She WAS uptight in many ways. But when it came to sexual stuff, she was, well, passionate was certainly a fair way to describe it. And tonight...that was completely unexpected. Sure, in the past she had initiated things a few times, and had been quite enthusiastic. But tonight he'd been, well, a little rough, and she had liked it.

The thought was very exciting to him. A little too exciting...

_Snape in a dress, Snape in a dress, Snape in a dress..._

The impending swelling quickly faded, but now Ron was confused. He'd have thought by now he'd have Hermione figured out. They'd only been going out for six and a half months but they had been friends for six and a half years, for heaven's sake. Surely he wasn't all that clueless about girls, and about this girl in particular. But her behaviour tonight confused him as much as it excited him. Because whatever she said, he knew that she wouldn't appreciate it if he were aggressive like that too much. The problem was, she seemed to expect him to KNOW when she wanted him to...attack her. And how was he supposed to know that? Hadn't SHE figured out that he wasn't the best at reading a girl's mind? That he needed it spelled out for him, more often than not?

Without thinking he groaned, and Harry, who had just settled down in bed, lifted his head.

'What?' he asked.

'Nothing,' said Ron. He wasn't going to broach the subject with Harry. Girls were an off-limit subject as far as Ron was concerned, at least until Harry got over Susan. As far as Ron could tell, that hadn't happened yet. 

'Tell me,' said Harry.

'It's nothing,' said Ron. 'Just...tired. From the vision I had, I guess.' Well, that wasn't a total lie.

'Oh,' said Harry, in a voice that sounded like he didn't believe Ron at all. But Harry didn't push it.

There was a silence and Ron wondered if Harry had gone to sleep, but then Harry shifted on his cot.

'You okay?' Ron asked.

'Not really,' said Harry, but his voice wasn't hard. Just tired.

'How was it?' Ron asked. 'The witness prep thing?'

'Hmm,' said Harry, considering. 'On a scale from just plain bad to excruciating, I'd say it was absolutely horrible.'

'I'm sorry, mate,' said Ron sympathetically, wishing there were something better he could say. Or do.

'Not your fault,' said Harry. 

'Wanna talk about it?' Ron asked.

'Not really,' said Harry. He yawned.

'Okay,' said Ron. 'But...if you change your mind...'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry, with another yawn. Ron heard him shift of the cot again, and settle. 'Thanks.'

'No problem,' said Ron, but Harry didn't hear him, because he was already asleep.

Ron dropped off a few minutes later, and in his head he saw Lucius Malfoy, smirking.


	10. Chapter Ten: Secrets, Past and Present

_Chapter Ten: Secrets, Past and Present_

Harry walked out of the Chief Prosecutor's office on Saturday afternoon feeling drained and angry. Drained, from the emotional toll of answering the Chief Prosecutor's questions, and angry, from being put through a mock cross-examination by the same prosecutor.

'The questions I'm going to ask you now are the ones most likely to be asked by Malfoy's lawyers during cross-examination,' said the Chief Prosecutor, a man called Michael D'Amico. 

D'Amico had then launched into those questions, nearly all of which were hostile. 

_'Is it not true that these visions you claim to have cause you to behave strangely? To black out and get sick?'_

_'Is it not true that you coerced five of your friends to go with you to break into the Department of Mysteries?'_

_'Is it not true that your actions that night led directly not only to the death of Sirius Black, your godfather, but to the escape of You-Know-Who?'_

_'Is it not true that You-Know-Who has possessed your mind many times in the past? How can this court be sure that you are not currently in his power?'_

'Harry, are you all right?'

Harry blinked, his thoughts wrenched back to the present. Remus Lupin was walking next to him, speaking to him.

'I'm fine,' Harry lied.

'No, you're not,' said Lupin evenly. 

'Okay, I'm not,' said Harry irritably. 

'I'm sorry--'

'This would be a lot easier if you'd stop apologizing,' Harry snapped, without thinking.

'Of course,' said Lupin easily. 

At once Harry felt his face redden. He stopped walking and ran a hand through his hair.

'I'm sorry,' he said quickly. 'I shouldn't snap at you, I just.those bloody questions. He just kept.hammering away.'

'It's to prepare you for what's to come,' said Lupin. 'Malfoy's lawyers know that the case against Lucius Malfoy is weak. Even with your testimony, and Draco's, there's no physical evidence to bolster the prosecution's side. Malfoy's lawyers will do everything they can to discredit you. The best way to do that is to make you look unbalanced, and as someone who's always seeking attention.'

'Just like the Ministry did,' Harry said glumly. 'Did D'Amico do this with Draco, too?'

'Undoubtedly,' said Lupin. 'Although I imagine it was worse for Draco. You've had some experience dealing with people being against you. Draco hasn't. Well, at least, not like this.'

'I'm supposed to feel sorry for Draco Malfoy?' Harry said darkly.

'I never suggested that,' said Lupin, as they started walking again. 'I know your history with him. But he's in the same place you were not all that long ago--everything crashing down on him. You came through it, because you're strong, you have loyal friends on your side. Draco, on the other hand.well, let's just say his Slytherin cronies haven't been exactly showering him with support.'

'Why not?' said Harry, surprised. Draco had always been the de facto leader of Slytherin house, even when he was a mere second year.

'They don't want to associate with him,' said Lupin. 'Draco's father is a known Death Eater and he's on trial for murder, among other things.'

'Yeah, but Draco testified against him--'

'That doesn't matter,' said Lupin. 'The average Slytherin is primarily concerned with self-preservation, don't forget. Associating with the Malfoy family at this time would hardly be considered wise. And those Slytherins who are a bit more thoughtful are likely to have been told by their parents to stay away from Draco, for their own safety.'

Harry nodded, but he suddenly didn't feel much like thinking about Draco Malfoy. The whole situation was confusing enough for Harry without the nagging feeling of pity for his most hated school rival tickling at the back of his mind.

And then Harry realized that he hadn't bothered to read today's issue of _The Daily Prophet_, which would have reported on the testimony Draco had given yesterday.

'Professor.Remus,' Harry said, as they climbed aboard a lift. 'How DID Draco do yesterday? Did he, uh, crack at all?'

'Not too badly,' said Lupin, pressing the button for the ground floor. 'All things considered. Malfoy's lawyers went after him hard but he managed to hold up fairly well.'

Harry nodded again, and then something else occurred to him as the lift doors slid shut.

'So, Draco's done with testifying?' he asked.

'Not quite,' said Lupin. 'It looks like the prosecutor will want to do a bit of re-direct on Monday morning, just to re-iterate everything. It keeps things fresh in the jury's mind. Why do you ask?'

'No reason,' Harry said quickly, looking away and feeling his stomach plummet as the details of Ron's vision came screaming back into his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry Flooed back to the Burrow shortly thereafter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were out, according to Ron (who made a face as he relayed this information) for a rare 'romantic' evening alone. Percy was with Penelope.

The first thing Harry did after hearing this was to gather Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the living room and ask Ron if he'd had any other visions or dreams about Lucius Malfoy's trial.

'No, mate,' said Ron. 'Why?'

'Draco's not done testifying, that's why,' said Harry uneasily. 'He's going to be called back on Monday. When I'm there, when we're all there.'

For a long moment nobody said a word. It was Hermione who broke the silence.

'I'm getting my list,' she announced, and she hurried upstairs and returned shortly thereafter with a roll of parchment and a quill in her hand.

'Okay,' she said, her eyes glittering as she unrolled the parchment. 'Let's look at what we have so far.'

Harry and Ginny, who were sitting on the sofa, made room for Ron and Hermione to squeeze in next to them. Harry bit his lip and willed his face not to get red when he felt Ginny's bare thigh against his own. Good lord, it was smooth. His stupid, rebellious face got red, anyway. Thankfully, Ginny didn't seem to notice, as she was looking avidly at The List. Harry dragged his eyes away from Ginny's glistening copper hair and focused them on Hermione's parchment.

_THE LIST_

_1. Voldemort hurt in battle at Riddle House; nose bleed. Harry's blood. _

_2. Voldemort believes Harry's blood has ancient magic protecting it (from Lily Potter)._

_3. Harry and Voldemort engage in physical and mental battle just before Voldemort Disapparates. Injury to Voldemort occurred here?_

_4. Harry's scar doesn't hurt for nearly four weeks, then starts hurting again on the same night Ginny has dream of Tom Riddle._

_5. Ron has vision of Lucius Malfoy's trial: Draco on the stand; L.M.'s lawyer questioning/accusing Draco; Draco upset; L.M. smug; judge banging gavel; courtroom crowded._

'My dreams aren't on here,' Ron said.

'I know,' said Hermione. 'I've been going over them and...something occurred to me.'

'What about Ron's dreams?' Harry asked.

'Well, Ron's had recurring dreams about a sword,' said Hermione. 'The sword is really old looking and it has an etched silver blade, and the handle has red stones in it--'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry. 'That sounds like Godric Gryffindor's sword.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'That's it!' he said excitedly. 'Dammit, I KNEW I was missing something. Second year, down in the Chamber of Secrets! You brought that sword back with you--'

'I used it to kill the Basilisk,' Harry finished. 

'How did you get it?' Hermione asked, her own eyes like saucers. 

Harry paused, remembering.

'Fawkes,' he said.

'What?' said Ginny.

'Fawkes,' said Harry. 'You know, Dumbledore's phoenix. He showed up in the Chamber and he brought the Sorting Hat with him. And I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with the Sorting Hat, right? And Tom Riddle, he was laughing at me but then, I remember I put the hat on and...and the sword just sort of appeared out of thin air. And later on, after we got out, I remember I was talking to Dumbledore and he said, only a true Gryffindor could pull the sword out of the hat. But...why would Ron be dreaming about that sword?'

'I don't know, exactly,' said Hermione, glancing at Ron. Ron nodded, apparently content to let her explain. 'But,' she went on, 'in that dream, the sword had blood on it. Maybe it means Ron was just dreaming about the sword after you'd killed the Basilisk. But Ron had another dream. One with a man in it. A medieval looking man in a red tunic with a gold crest. He was wielding the sword like he was going to use it to fight something. And there was noise. Hissing. Only Ron couldn't figure out where it was coming from.'

Harry looked at Ron, then at Hermione, then at Ginny. She shifted slightly and her thigh rubbed against his. He wished she would hold still. He was trying, after all, to focus on the matter at hand. But she didn't seem to notice that she was being distracting.

'You don't think--' Harry started to say, if only to keep his mind turned to what they were discussing, instead of Ginny's smooth, slim thigh against his.

'I think,' said Hermione, 'that the man in Ron's dream was Godric Gryffindor, and that the hissing was coming from Salazar Slytherin. It was Parseltongue.'

'Really?' said Harry.

'Really?' said Ron; clearly he hadn't thought to interpret his dream that way.

'Yes, really,' said Hermione. 'Well, it certainly seems the most logical explanation. And Gryffindor and Slytherin did have a huge falling out, remember. According to _Hogwarts, A History_: _Revised Edition_, Slytherin had the most contentious relationship with Gryffindor. When they had their falling out, it nearly came to blows, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff intervened. Slytherin left and seems to have disappeared after that. And of course he left behind the Chamber--we all know that.'

'What does this have to do with Harry?' said Ron.

'Ron, you said the man in your dream had green eyes,' said Hermione.

'So?' said Ron, and then he looked at Harry and his jaw went slightly slack. 'Oh,' he said.

'What?' said Harry.

'Harry,' said Ginny, 'I think what Hermione is suggesting is that you might be related to Godric Gryffindor.'

Harry stared at Hermione for a long moment before snorting out loud.

'You're joking, right?' he said. 

'Harry, Voldemort was the Heir of Slytherin,' said Hermione. 'What if part of the reason he wants to kill you is because you're the heir of Slytherin's most hated enemy? What if...you're the Heir of Gryffindor?'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry, standing up. 'Come on, Hermione. That's mad. First of all, we don't even know for certain that's the man Ron dreamed about. Second, lots of people have green eyes, okay? That could be just a coincidence--'

'But the sword, Harry,' Hermione persisted. 'Only a true Gryffindor could use it--'

'You're all Gryffindors!' said Harry. 'True Gryffindors, I might add. Any one of you could have pulled the sword out of that hat. Dumbledore never said it could only be done by the heir. And...besides, wouldn't someone have mentioned by now if I were? Dumbledore--'

'Maybe there's a reason he hasn't said anything,' said Hermione.

'Oh, right, the old "Dumbledore has his reasons" canard, again?' Harry said sarcastically, and now he began to pace, because it was the only thing keeping him from really losing it.

'Harry, how much do you know about your parents?' Hermione asked.

'What?' Harry asked, unbalanced by the sudden change in topic.

'How much do you know about James and Lily Potter?' Hermione said. 

'What's that supposed to mean?' Harry asked, feeling very defensive. 'I know about them.'

_I do_, he thought. _Well, somewhat. I mean, I know they got together in seventh year. I know my dad was a prat when he was fifteen, but that he had a crush on my mum even back then. I know my mum was a Muggle-born and my dad was a pure-blood. I know I take after my dad in looks except for my eyes, I have my mum's eyes. My mum had red hair, and she was really pretty. My dad was an ace Chaser on the Quidditch team but he had the reflexes to have been a Seeker if he'd wanted. My dad was popular. He was an Animagus--he could change into a stag. After they finished school they got married and then they had me and they joined the Order of the __Phoenix__. I know they went into hiding from Voldemort but that they trusted Wormtail with their secret, and he betrayed them and Voldemort murdered them. And...and..._

_And what?__ Is that it? What about when they were kids? What about after they left school? They would have gotten jobs, wouldn't they? Where did they live? Before they went into hiding, I mean? And...just what had they done to defy Voldemort three times?_

'Harry?' said Ginny gently.

'You don't know very much about them, do you?' said Hermione softly.

Harry looked at her, then at Ron, then at Ginny.

'No,' he managed. 'No, I don't. Dumbledore didn't tell me...'

'Did you ask?' said Hermione.

'No,' said Harry sharply.

'Why not?' she said, unfazed by his brusque tone.

'Because...maybe I didn't want to know, all right?' he snapped. 'It was bad enough finding out my dad was an arrogant berk in his fifth year and that my mum once hated him.'

'What do you mean--' Hermione began.

'Forget I said that,' Harry said at once, holding up his hand. 'I don't want to talk about that, okay?'

Hermione nodded, but then she took a deep breath and spoke, a bit hesitantly.

'Harry, maybe...maybe if you found out more about your parents, you could understand better about...your connection to Voldemort,' she said. 'And about how to kill him.'

Harry sat down again, across from them. 

'Harry,' said Hermione. 'Maybe I'm...completely wrong and you're not related at all to Godric Gryffindor. But...I can't help but think that Voldemort isn't just singling you out because of that prophecy. I think there's something else going on, and it has to do with your parents. There has to be a reason he went after them three times--and this was before you were born, possibly before you were even conceived.'

Harry stared at her. 'How did you know that? The part about...my parents defying Voldemort three times? I never--'

Hermione blushed and looked at Ron, then down at her hands. 'I...I wrote to Dumbledore right after we left school, and he told me. I...I just wanted to help and I had a feeling you didn't tell us everything in the prophecy--'

'I only--' Harry began.

'Not because you meant to keep it from us,' Hermione said quickly. 'Just...you didn't think about that part, because you were focused on the part where you have to...kill Voldemort.'

'Harry,' said Ron, 'uh...you know, Hermione could be right. Maybe you...er, we...should start looking into what your parents did. It might help you more than my stupid dreams.'

'But we shouldn't discount the dreams,' said Hermione at once. 'Or the visions. And of course there's the possibility of a connection with Ginny--her nightmare and Harry's scar hurting--'

'Fuck!' Harry groaned.

Hermione gasped.

'Sorry, he said.

He groaned again and ran a hand through his hair.

'This is all really confusing,' he said at last. 'There's just...too much STUFF. Makes my damn head hurt. And no, it's not my scar,' he added, when Hermione started to speak. 'It's just a headache.'

'You're not alone there,' said Ginny, rubbing her temples. 

'This is going to be a repeat of last year, isn't it?' said Ron, sitting back heavily on the sofa. 'Research up the bloody--'

'Ron,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, yeah, don't swear,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. But there was only affection in them as he looked at his girlfriend, and she smiled at him.

Harry looked away, not wanting to think about anything to do with girlfriends. Bad enough to have all this rubbish hanging over his head without falling into his daily lonely, horny, desperate, pathetic thing.

'Well, I'm starving,' Ron announced.

'Gee, that's a surprise,' said Ginny sarcastically.

'Hey, it's past dinner time,' Ron protested. 'And Mum forgot to make us something. She was so happy about having a romantic night with Dad--'

'Ew, Ron, don't go there,' said Ginny.

'Hey, don't look at me,' said Ron, looking appalled at the idea of the word 'romance' being in the same sentence with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 'I'm just repeating what she said. To hear her go on about it...' He shuddered. 'I think I'm scarred for life,' he added.

'I think it's sweet,' said Hermione. 'Why shouldn't your parents have a romantic evening? They don't get much time to spend together.'

'Hermione, they're our parents,' said Ginny.

'So?'

'So...yuck,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

'Oh, honestly,' said Hermione. 'You have six brothers, Ginny. I don't think any of you appeared out of thin air!'

'Hermione!' Ron yelled. 'That's disgusting!'

'No, it's not!' Hermione yelled back. 'It's perfectly normal. We have sex, why shouldn't your parents?'

The moment the words left her mouth, she blanched. Then she blushed and clapped a hand over her mouth. She looked at Harry with something like horror. Ron's ears were so red Harry thought they might spontaneously combust at any moment.

'Oh, Harry...I'm so sorry,' said Hermione.

'For what?' said Harry. 

'Well, I mean...' she stammered.

'Hermione,' said Harry, 'if you're going to apologize for anything, apologize for filling my head with the scary image of you and Ron shagging--'

'Hey!' Ron said indignantly.

'--but NOT because you brought up the fact that you and Ron do have sex and I'm not having it anymore,' Harry finished.

'Hermione and me shagging is NOT scary!' Ron said angrily.

'Oi, Ron,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. 'Maybe not for you two, okay, but if it's all the same I'd rather not continue this discussion on the sexual habits of my relatives!'

'Hear, hear,' said Harry. 'Not that they're technically my relatives--'

'Harry, I didn't mean to--' Hermione huffed.

'Drop it, Hermione,' Harry said, holding up his hands. She gave him a snippy look and folded her arms indignantly across her chest.

Ron opened his mouth, as though he wanted to say something else, but Ginny gave him a pointed look. He scowled at her.

'Fine,' he said, still looking affronted. 'I'll just make dinner, then. Hopefully that won't be too scary for you two.' He nodded sharply at his sister and Harry.

And with that, Ron stalked into the kitchen, followed by Hermione, who shot both Harry and Ginny a nasty look.

'Ron can cook?' Harry muttered to Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Ginny in a low voice. 'He learned from Mum. We all did, but we never get much of a chance because Mum's so bloody anal-retentive about cooking everything herself. 'Specially when you're here.'

'So you can cook, too?' Harry said. 

'Yeah, I can,' said Ginny, shrugging. 'But Ron's way better at it than I am. Next to Mum, he's probably the best cook in the family.'

'You're kidding,' said Harry, trying very hard to imagine Ron in an apron, carefully adding herbs to a stew.

'No, I'm not,' said Ginny. 'But don't tell him I said that.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later the four of them sat down to dinner; Harry had immediately apologized to Ron upon getting a whiff of the delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen, and Ron coolly accepted. Hermione was still acting a bit aloof, but Harry said nothing. She was just being...Hermione. She'd come around.

Harry had to admit Ginny was absolutely correct about Ron's skills at cooking. The chicken pie Ron had made was nothing short of delicious, and the chocolate cake was quite stellar as well. Harry ate his fill, and then some.

They went to bed not long after, sleepy and full. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had still not come back from their romantic evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next day, Hermione and Harry were back on speaking terms. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had come home rather late from their evening, and both of them seemed to be more than usually cheerful at breakfast. Ron and Ginny watched their parents with disgusted looks on their faces, as Harry and Hermione tried to hide their amusement.

After breakfast, they tried to do homework, but the day was so fine out that after only a half hour of studying they gave up and took advantage of the weather with some Quidditch practice. Hermione bravely joined them--she still wasn't much at flying but Harry had to give her credit for trying, all the same.

As the afternoon wore on, it became very hot, and the four of them decided to don swimming costumes and take a swim at the lake. Harry was all for this until they got to the lake and he got a good look at Ginny in the scrap of material she called a bikini.

_She really does have freckles all over._

_Stop it, perv! Ron's sister--_

_Looks good enough to eat.___

_Bloody hell.___

It didn't help that she looked even more enticing emerging from the lake, soaking wet, her skin glistening and her hair wet and hanging down her back. His eyes landed on shimmering droplet of water that hovered in the hollow of her throat and then streamed slowly down between her lush breasts.

Those things are going to be the death of me, Harry thought.

_Then stop staring at them, you horny git!_

'Harry? Are you okay?' she asked, as she flopped down onto her towel. The action caused her breasts, which were barely contained by her bikini top, to bounce.

She's killing me, Harry thought. I'm going to die. I hope she didn't catch me looking...__

_Snape in a dress._

'I'm fine,' he lied, turning over onto his stomach to hide the embarrassing things that were happening in his swim trunks. 

For the rest of the afternoon he was forced to come up with as many disgusting mental images as possible to counter the vision of Ginny wearing almost nothing. It didn't help that she was both deliciously, femininely curvy and lean and athletic at the same time. The play of her muscles against the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips...

_Snape in a thong!_

By the time they all headed back to the Burrow, Harry had a massive, crushing headache and no small amount of discomfort down below, and not for the first time that day, he rather wished he was back at Privet Drive. At least there, he had his own room and could deal with sexual frustration properly.

After dinner the four of them returned to studying. Harry had trouble focusing on his many essays--his mind kept returning to all the questions the prosecutor had given him, questions he had insisted Harry study in preparation for giving his testimony. He turned his attention to them and tried to study them, but still his mind wandered. To his scar hurting, to Ron's vision, to Ginny and all those freckles she had...

I'm going to get slaughtered on the stand, he thought. I can't keep my stupid head on straight.

It was somewhat late when the four of them turned in. Ron fell asleep almost at once. Harry closed his eyes and tried to, but his head was still hurting, and he kept hearing Chief Prosecutor D'Amico's voice in his head, pounding away with his questions. 

After a half hour of tossing and turning Harry opened his eyes and groaned softly. He had to be in court by eight tomorrow morning, and here it was, well after midnight, and he couldn't sleep.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then it happened.

Sharp, searing pain in his scar. Pain so intense it made him gasp, made his whole body tense, made his eyes water.

He grabbed at his scar and felt the puckered skin burning. The sharpest of the pain faded, leaving a heavy throbbing in its wake.

He blinked again, willing his eyes to focus in the darkness, and groped the dresser-top for his glasses. Slipping them on, he felt another sharp pain in his scar and for the first time in weeks, he felt something else.

Emotion. From Voldemort. He was pleased about something.

No! Harry thought wildly. This can't be happening, not yet, I'm not ready.

He sat up in bed, gripping his forehead with one hand. Ron slept on--Harry was beginning to think that Ron could probably sleep through anything. He started toward Ron's bed to wake him, when he remembered something.

Use Legilimency, you stupid prat! You know, that thing you do where you try to read his mind?

Harry lay back on the bed, closing his eyes again, willing himself to push past the pain tearing him in his forehead. He moved beyond it, and the pain, so sharp and breathtaking a moment ago, became a dull throb. And then he heard the high-pitched, cold, empty voice. It was hissing.

And then he saw them. Red eyes, red as blood, and the white face, with its thin skin stretched taut, smiled. A lipless, blood-curdling smile. The lipless mouth moved but Harry couldn't make out what it said.__

Harry gave a small cry as the pain in his scar roared again, and he sat up in bed, his eyes open. Voldemort was gone. 

But the pain in Harry's scar raged, and the image of Voldemort's red eyes lingered like a stain.

And then, Harry thought of Ginny. What if...

At once he forgot about waking Ron, and made a grab for his wand under his pillow. He staggered weakly out of Ron's room and crept, quietly as he could, down the stairs, his ears straining for the sound of Ginny's voice. When he reached her bedroom door, he found it closed, and on pressing his ear to the door, he heard nothing.

The silence was frightened to him. He had to check.

Very carefully, he turned the doorknob; it opened with a soft click, and very slowly, he pushed the door open.

The room was bathed in moonlight. Hermione was sleeping soundly in the spare bed, her bushy hair spread out all over her pillow, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other splayed out beside her.

Ginny's bed was empty.

Harry started to panic--why wasn't she in bed?--when he heard a soft shuffling sound coming from downstairs. He quickly backed out of Ginny's room, closing the door softly behind him. Then he crept down the stairs, and heard it again: shuffling.

He held his wand out in front of him, debating whether or not to call out to her. If it WAS her down there, and he announced his presence, he avoided startling her half to death. But if it wasn't her, and it was a Death Eater or some other intruder, if he announced his presence he gave the intruder the advantage.

He was in the living room, moving quietly toward the kitchen when a small form leapt out and pointed a wand right in his face.

'Ginny, it's me!' he hissed quickly.

Ginny gasped. 'Bloody hell!' she hissed back. 'Harry, you scared me half to death!'

'Likewise,' said Harry, his heart racing. 'Uh, do you mind lowering that thing?' he added, nodding at her wand.

'Right,' she said, and she lowered her wand; he could see her blush in the moonlit darkness.

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'I just...I've seen what you can do with that thing and I don't fancy a Bat Bogey Hex.'

Ginny laughed softly.

'What are you doing up?' she asked.

'Oh,' said Harry, and he started to try and think up an excuse, but the way she was looking at him.

_You can't put anything past her, Potter. _

'My scar,' he said, and before he could elaborate another sharp pain took him and he winced and put a hand up to it. 'Fuck, I wish it would stop doing that.' He began to rub at it.

'Take it easy, Harry,' said Ginny, advancing on him, 'or you'll rub your skin right off.'

She reached up and took his wrist in her small hand and lowered his hand. He shuddered from the contact.

'Cold?' she asked.

'No,' said Harry, trying to look anywhere but in her eyes, which looked amber in the dimness of the room.

She turned her eyes up to his scar and traced a finger over it, back and forth. The pain began to ebb. Harry closed his eyes, not sure where the relief was truly coming from, and not truly caring. It was enough that she was so close to him. He noticed that she smelled of vanilla.

'Better?' she asked, pulling back from him. Harry opened his eyes and felt himself plummet back to reality. 

'Better,' he heard himself say, and she smiled and turned and started back into the kitchen. He watched her and slowly something began to dawn on him.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt better after she'd touched him.

_That's because you're a horny bastard and you've got a good looking girl putting her hands on you. Any bloke would feel better for that..._

_No, it's more than that. She touched my scar and it stopped hurting._

'How did you do that?' he heard himself ask, as he followed her into the kitchen. He noticed that she was making a pot of tea.

'Do what?' she asked, and Harry caught the evasiveness of her tone at once. The feigned innocence...

She busied herself with putting herbs in a pot.

'Make my scar stop hurting,' said Harry.

Ginny stopped what she was doing and her shoulders went stiff.

'I don't know what you mean,' she said finally.

'Yeah, you do,' said Harry, and he walked right up to her and stood next to her and stared at her. 'You touched my scar and it stopped hurting. That's not the first time, either.'

She looked up at him defiantly. 'So?' she said. 

'So, Ginny,' said Harry impatiently, 'nobody else has been able to do that. I rub my scar all the time and it hurts anyway. But you...'

'I'm sure it's just a coincidence,' said Ginny quickly, looking down at the teapot now full of herbs.

'Quite a coincidence, though, isn't it?' Harry persisted.

'Harry, what are you trying to say?' said Ginny impatiently, putting a hand on a hip and looking up at him sharply.

'Nothing,' said Harry at once, feeling a bit defensive. 'I'm just curious--OW!'

Another sharp pain seared through his scar.

'It's okay,' said Ginny at once, and before he could stop her she moved his fringe back with her hand and laid it completely on his scar. The scorching heat lifted, replaced by a soothing coolness.

He stared down at her; he felt slightly light-headed, and then he noticed her face. Her eyes were focused on her hand, pressed on his forehead; she was concentrating hard on something, and then suddenly, she winced slightly and pulled away.

'What...what was that?' Harry asked, touching his forehead. The scar was cool now, and didn't hurt at all. She shook her head and backed away from him slightly, and without thinking he grabbed her by the arms. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to keep her from running away.

'Ginny...' he said. 'Tell me what's going on.'

She looked up at him, then looked quickly away; he felt her body go slack. She wasn't trying to get away from him. 

'Please,' he begged, moving closer to her. 'How are you doing this?'

'I can't tell you anything, Harry,' she said at last, meeting his eyes. 'I'm sorry. It's...it's for your own good, okay?'

'Oh,' said Harry, feeling instantly annoyed. 'Fine.'

'Don't get shirty,' she said irritably. 'It's complicated, okay? I'm not telling you because I don't think you can handle it. I'm not telling you because...I was asked not to. Not yet.'

'Who asked you not to--'

Ginny held up a hand. 'No, Harry.'

'All right,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'I'll stop asking. What's that tea you're making?'

'Some of Mum's special stuff,' said Ginny. 'You want some?'

'Didn't Hermione say it makes the drinker really groggy in the morning?' Harry asked.

Ginny snorted. 'Please. She only said that because she didn't want to fall asleep before she had a chance to shag my brother.'

'Thanks for THAT mental image,' Harry groaned. 'I think I will have some of that stuff after all.'

'You'll want to be fresh for tomorrow,' Ginny said, turning on a burner and placing the kettle over the flame.

'Yeah, that,' said Harry glumly.

'Sorry,' said Ginny at once. 'I shouldn't have brought that up.'

'It's okay,' said Harry. But the thought of Malfoy's trial reminded him of something he hadn't told her. So he did tell her, that his scar hurt, and that he had felt Voldemort's emotion: happiness. That he had tried to use Legilimency to see more, but couldn't find anything discernible.

As they sat down to drink their tea, Harry noticed Ginny bite her lower lip; she looked worried.

'What?' he asked. And then he understood.

'You dreamed about Riddle again, didn't you?'

She nodded.

'Shit,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair. 'That can't still be a coincidence, can it, your dreams coinciding with my scar hurting?'

'I don't think so,' she said, 'but...I can't imagine what it means. I...I don't know if I even want to know what it means.'

She looked afraid and small in that moment, and without really knowing it, he took her hand in his.

'Me, neither,' he said, and he felt her lace his fingers with his. His unease faded slightly; the clutch of her cool fingers in his was pleasant. They stayed that way as they drank their tea, in the silence and the darkness of the kitchen.

It was only when Harry crawled into bed a half hour later that he realized he'd gone an entire day without thinking about Susan.

_________________________________________________________

**A/N: Apologies, faithful readers, for the delay in getting this chapter up. Life has been very busy for me, and it took me forever to work out how I wanted it to go. I hadn't intended to end up with another Drinking Tea and Bonding in the Middle of the Night chapter (i.e. like Chapter 3 in_ Book of Morgan Le Fey_) but what can I say, I like the concept. Hope the chapter didn't disappoint.**

**A few notes.**

**I know there are some of you wanting to see some H/G action, like, yesterday, but sorry. I can't get there yet. This thing is going to take some time. Please be patient. I promise it will be worth the wait. **

**I chose the Prosecutor's name for a couple of reasons. One, I knew a guy with that last name a long time ago, and two, I wanted a name that would tie in with the fact that he's a prosecutor. _Amico_ means 'friend' in Italian, from the Latin _amicus_. In the legal world there is a filing known as an amicus brief--"friend of the court." There are other common Latin legal words but none of them really worked as a name. _Habeus__ corpus_ is too obvious, nobody can pronounce _certiorare_, and _mens__ rea_, though it is anything but, sounds like a nasty venereal disease. (arios will know what I'm talking about ;-D)**

**Finally, about that bloody trial.YES, it is coming up in the next chapter. But it won't be what you expect.and hopefully it won't take quite so long to put up there.**

**Thanks again for your patience, and for reading!**

**LB**


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Trial, Interrupted

_Chapter Eleven: The Trial...Interrupted_

_The skeletally thin man sat straight and tall in his chair; his fingertips were pressed together as he stared, with blood red eyes, into the fire. Now and again she slithered by, hissing as she went, pausing once or twice to lift her head and receive a gentle caress from her master._

_'She is late, Nagini,' Voldemort said, his voice oddly high-pitched, and cold as ice. But the words came out as one continuous hiss. The snake undulated her head back and forth, as though she understood what he was saying._

_'We might have to punish her,' Voldemort went on, hissing. 'Won't that be fun, my pet? But...she is only a few minutes late. Perhaps...I can be generous--'_

_There was a knock at the door._

_'Enter,' Voldemort called. The door opened. A woman swept in, dressed entirely in black, with a hood over her head. Her face was in shadow. She knelt down at the side of the man's chair, prostrating herself._

_'My lord,' she said, in a silky, low voice that was muffled by her bent pose. _

_'You are late,' he said._

_'Forgive me,' said the woman, still kneeling; there was only the slightest tremor in her voice. _

_'Tell me,' he said._

_'It is done,' she said._

_'Good,' said Voldemort. He reached down put a thin, skeletal finger beneath the woman's chin and lifted her face up to the light..._

'Ron wake up, you lazy prat!'

No, Ron thought. I can't wake up. I'm dreaming about Voldemort and some Death Eater of his, some bird...I have to see her face.

'Ron!'

'Dammit,' Ron groaned, his eyes fluttering open. 'Thanks a lot, Harry. I was in the middle of a dream.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Lemme guess. Hermione was in it and she had no clothes on--'

'No,' Ron said angrily, sitting up sharply. 'It was about him. Voldemort.'

'What?' Harry said, his green eyes going wide.

'Shit,' Ron said, rubbing his eyes, and he grabbed his dream diary from his desk and his quill and inkpot.

'Tell me,' said Harry urgently.

'Let me write it down first before I forget it all,' Ron barked, and he quickly began to scrawl as much as he could remember. Voldemort sitting in a chair...somewhere. Looking at a fireplace. Talking to his creepy giant snake. The woman...

Her voice. Something about her voice. It was resonant, low, elegant. Sexy. She was obviously a Death Eater, but who could she be? And what did she mean by 'It is done'?

'Well?' Harry asked impatiently.

'I dunno,' said Ron, his stomach twisting uneasily. 'Maybe we should include Ginny and Hermione on this.'

'Fine,' said Harry. 'I'll get them.' He started out of the room, when Ron remembered something.

'Hey, mate,' he called. 'Happy Birthday.'

'Thanks, I think,' said Harry. Ron watched him leave. What a wonderful start to my day. My best mate's birthday and he has to testify against Lucius Bloody Malfoy, and I have another completely inexplicable dream about seriously evil people that may or may not mean anything.

Ron groaned again and flopped back onto his bed, pulling the covers over his head, cursing himself for the millionth time for touching that bloody brain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later Ron, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Percy and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all Flooed to the Ministry. They were met by Remus Lupin, and together, the lot of them headed to the courthouse, which was attached to the Ministry building underground.

'We're cutting it fine,' Lupin said grimly, checking his watch for the hundredth time, as they hurried along dimly lit corridors. Ron wasn't paying the least attention to where they were going; his mind was still on that woman in the dream, kneeling before Voldemort. He'd told every detail he could remember to Ginny and Hermione, and Hermione had taken it upon herself to write a note to Dumbledore. So far, they hadn't heard back from him.

If only Harry hadn't awakened him before Ron had had a chance to see her face...

'Here we are,' said Lupin, as they rounded a corner. Ron was brought sharply back to earth when he saw the crowd of people gathered round the courtroom door. There were reporters, Ministry police, and civilians, all of them pushing and shoving their way toward the door, which looked to be locked at the moment.

'There he is!' came a shriek, and Ron felt his stomach plummet as a dozen reporters raced toward them.

'Fuck,' he heard Harry mutter under his breath.

And suddenly they were surrounded.

'Harry Potter!' cried one reporter, a short, fat, young wizard who was nonetheless already balding. 'Can you give us a statement--'

'How does it feel to be testifying--'

'Is it true that you fought You-Know-Who again--'

'Back off, you vultures!' Mrs. Weasley shouted, yanking out her wand.

'Come on, Harry, just one comment--'

'No comments!' Lupin shouted above the din.

'We'd like to hear from Harry!' came another voice.

'Yeah, Harry, tell us about--'

Harry shrank behind Ron and seemed to be trying to hide.

'This is the Ministry's idea of security?' Hermione said indignantly, her voice carrying over the noise.

'Leave him alone!' Ginny yelled.

'Harry, the public wants to know--'

'THAT'S ENOUGH!'

The boom of Mr. Weasley's voice cut over the crowd so loudly that many people clapped their hands over their ears.

Ron gaped at his father; he rarely took charge of situations, and now here he was, magically amplifying his voice and shutting people up.

'If the lot of you...journalists don't want harassment charges filed against you,' Mr. Weasley seethed, 'I suggest you let us pass.'

'But--' one reporter began.

'Mr. Potter has no comment,' Mr. Weasley snapped, his magically loud voice ringing. 'Now step aside.'

And to Ron's amazement, they did. 

'Wow,' Harry murmured. 'That was impressive.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, grinning at the back of his father's head as Arthur Weasley led them down the corridor to the entrance of the courtroom. 'Fancy that.'

'Hello, Harry.'

The sound of the female voice caused Ron, Harry, Ginny and Hermione to turn. Standing before them, dressed in a flashy dress suit covered by vivid red robes, was none other than Rita Skeeter.

'What do you want?' Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

'Oh, come on,' she purred, tapping her quill against her gaudy glasses. 'I helped you once, remember? Now why don't you help me?'

'You helped me,' said Harry, through gritted teeth, 'because Hermione threatened to turn you in. Not because you're a...a good person or anything.'

'Details, details,' said Rita coolly. 'Look, I honored the deal your girlfriend forced on me. Surely you can throw me a little bone?'

'Harry?' Mr. Weasley called. His voice was no longer amplified, but he gave Rita a very dirty look.

'Not this time, Rita,' said Harry acidly. He turned on his heel and stalked away from her.

'Well, then, plan B,' Rita said, without missing a beat. 'How about the woman in Harry's life. What do you say, Miss Perfect?'

'I'm not Harry's girlfriend,' Hermione said through gritted teeth, 'and I have nothing to say to you.'

Rita shrugged and turned to Ron.

'Forget it, lady,' he said, and he took Hermione's hand in his. Rita didn't even bother asking Ginny anything as the three of them headed for the courtroom entrance.

They didn't have to wait long for the doors to open; when they did, mob mentality took over again, and everyone seemed to be trying to push their way in. Almost at once several Ministry police intervened, allowing Harry, Ron and the others to enter, followed by the reporters, and after that, spectators. In a matter of minutes the courtroom was full.

Ron glanced up toward the front of the room and swallowed, seeing the familiar, pale blond head of Lucius Malfoy. He was seated casually at the defense table, talking to his lawyer.

The woman in my vision, Ron thought. She was sleek and beautiful and dark-haired.

'Ron,' said Hermione, looking at the woman.

'That's her,' said Ron. 'The one I saw in the vision.'

Ron strained to hear what she and Lucius might be talking about, but it was hopeless, considering all the noise in the room.

Gradually, everyone sat down, but the cacophony of voices went on, vibrant as ever.

'That's Malfoy's lawyer?' Harry groaned, when he got a look at the dark haired woman. 'Wonderful.'

'What?' Hermione asked.

'Hermione, look at the men on the jury,' Ginny said, nodding to the jury box. To a one, every man in the box was staring at the woman representing Lucius Malfoy. With rather obvious lust on their faces.

'Oh,' said Hermione. 'Well...I...I suppose...surely they won't acquit Malfoy because his lawyer is pretty. It's not like she's a Veela.' She paused and then sounded panicked. 'Is she?'

'No, she's just your garden variety gorgeous woman,' said Ron dryly.

'Really?' said Hermione, folding her arms across her chest.

Ron flushed. 'Whereas you, love, are uniquely beautiful and fantastic and magnificent and brilliant. Birds like her have nothing on you, honest,' he said quickly.

Hermione smiled, apparently satisfied. Ron made a mental note to never, ever mention another woman's looks in Hermione's presence again. Unless it was to impugn them.

'Is that the prosecutor?' Ginny asked, and Ron followed her gaze to the other table.

'That's him,' said Harry darkly. 

Chief Prosecutor D'Amico could not be any older than forty, by the looks of him. He was of average height, but extremely fit and quite handsome, with dark, curly, close-cropped hair, shocking blue eyes, and olive skin.

'He's quite a dish, isn't he?' Ginny said.

'Yes, quite,' said Hermione.

'Hey!' said Ron.

'Just kidding,' she said, smiling. There she went, teasing him again. He really wished they were not in this stupid courtroom. He hadn't been alone with her, really alone, in days. Not since the day after Hermione had snuck into the Burrow to escape her parents. It felt like weeks.

'Shit,' he heard Harry mutter.

'What?' Ron asked, but then he followed Harry's gaze and saw Susan Bones.

'Oh,' said Ron, biting his lip. Susan was not alone; she was with what looked like several relatives, but next to her, holding onto her arm as though he was courting her, was Terry Boot.

'She didn't waste any time, did she?' Harry said glumly.

Ron looked desperately at Ginny. 

'Harry, you don't know she's...WITH Terry,' said Ginny carefully.

'No?' said Harry, and he nodded up at where Susan and Terry were standing. Terry now had his arm round her shoulder and was saying something in her ear, and Susan was nodding. Then Terry planted a kiss on Susan's temple.

'They look pretty cozy to me,' Harry said, and he looked down miserably at his hands.

'Shit, Harry,' Ron mumbled. 'I'm sorry.'

Harry looked up at Susan again, and then quickly looked away.

'Bloody hell,' he groaned. 'She saw me and now she's headed this way.'

'You wanna move?' Ron said quickly.

'Forget it,' said Harry, and in the next moment, Susan was there.

Ron had to admit she looked very pretty. Her auburn hair was pulled back in its usual plait, but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright.

And then he scowled. She had no business looking good when Harry was so miserable.

Ron glared up at her, but she ignored him and focused on Harry.

'Hi, Harry,' she said, her voice a bit thin.

He looked up at her. 'Hi, Susan.'

'How are you?' she asked, her face going redder every second; she started to fidget with her hands.

'Great,' Harry said, a bite in his voice. 'I'm just great.'

Susan flushed very red now, and looked down, and for an unbearable, excruciating moment, nobody said a word. The noise of the courtroom couldn't cut through the tension just then.

'Well,' Susan said finally. 'I just...wanted to wish you luck.'

'Thanks,' Harry said dryly; his whole body was rigid and he was clenching his fists.

Go away, you insensitive bint, Ron thought savagely. Can't you see you're hurting his feelings?

'So...I'll see you around,' she said, backing away, smiling weakly. Harry didn't smile back.

'Yeah, sure,' said Harry. ''Bye.'

Her response was to nod and hurry back to Terry Boot.

'Well,' Harry said. 'That was...brutal.'

'Harry...' Hermione said sympathetically.

'Don't,' said Harry at once. Hermione started to speak again, but Ron gave her a look, and she backed off.

'You'll be okay, Harry,' Ron heard Ginny say, and he turned to see his sister lay a hand on Harry's arm.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he seemed to welcome the contact, and he smiled back at Ginny. It was a sad smile, but there was something behind it. Hope? Relief?

_Something is definitely going on with those two. But what?_

Ron's thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice from the front of the room.

'All rise!' came a loud voice.

Everyone stood up, and Ron followed suit.

'Hear ye, hear ye,' said an Auror stationed at the front of the room, just in front of the massive daïs. 'The Superior Court of the Magical Commonwealth of the United Kingdom is now in session. In the matter of the Commonwealth versus Lucius Malfoy, the Honourable Judge Malik Adham Bashir presiding.'

At this, a small, dark-skinned man with black hair and dark brown eyes entered the room from behind the daïs, carrying what appeared to be a ledger under his arm. He wore heavy, very official looking black robes and he gazed down at the courtroom from his perch on the daïs before taking his seat and opening his mouth to speak.

'Be seated,' he said. 'This court is in session. I understand the Commonwealth wishes for re-direct of their witness.'

The judge spoke in clipped, slightly accented tones as D'Amico stood up.

'Yes, Your Honour,' said D'Amico, his own voice clear and confident. 'If it please the court, the Commonwealth wishes to recall Draco Malfoy to the stand.'

'Any objections?' said Judge Bashir, nodding toward Lucius Malfoy's lawyer.

'No, Your Honour,' the lawyer answered. Her voice was low and smooth. Something tickled at the back of Ron's mind.

'Very well,' said Judge Bashir. 'Bailiff, bring the witness.'

The Auror/Bailiff nodded and strode purposefully to the back of the courtroom; as one the crowd turned to watch him as he vanished through the double doors for a moment before reappearing, this time followed by Draco Malfoy.

Draco was flanked on either side by Auror guards--men at least as big as Crabbe and Goyle. 

'Malfoy looks horrible,' Ginny whispered.

She's right, he DOES look like death warmed over, Ron thought. 

Draco had never been particularly big, but at that moment he looked tiny. He'd lost a significant amount of weight, and his face was drawn, gaunt and deathly pale. His normally perfectly coiffed, bright blond hair was dull and limp over his forehead. His gray eyes were red-rimmed, and there were dark circles beneath. The robes he wore, though quite fine, hung loosely on his frame, and he walked with a decided sag in his shoulders.

He didn't look at Ron or Harry or the girls as he passed by, but Ron saw Draco's jaw clench slightly.

Draco took a seat at the witness stand.

'Good morning, Mr. Malfoy,' said D'Amico. 'Thank you for appearing for us again. I want to remind you that you are still under oath.'

Draco said nothing; he only nodded. He looked incomparably tired, and Ron bit back the pity rising in his own mind. He hated feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy.

'Now, there are a few issues I would like to clarify for the court, if I may,' D'Amico went on, pacing gracefully about the front of the room. He paused and turned to the judge.

'Permission to approach the witness, Your Honour?' he asked.

'Permission granted,' said Judge Bashir, nodding.

D'Amico moved closer to Draco, and Draco seemed to shrink a bit.

'I apologize for having to make you go over this again, Mr. Malfoy,' D'Amico said sympathetically, 'but I would like you to tell us, once again, about the night you learned that your mother had been murdered.'

Ron's eyes darted back to Lucius Malfoy's table; his lawyer was leaning over and whispering something in her client's ear. Ron felt a shudder as he watched her. Something about her just wasn't...right.

'Take your time, Mr. Malfoy,' D'Amico was saying, and Ron looked up again at Draco, who was rigid in his seat. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and spoke.

'It was...in June...10th June of this year,' Draco croaked, his voice hoarse and tired. 'We were at the house with...with You-Know-Who--'

'"We" being you and the Death Eaters?' D'Amico asked.

'Objection,' piped in Lucius Malfoy's lawyer. 'Leading question.' Her voice was icy but smooth. Ron shuddered again.

'Your Honour,' said D'Amico, thoroughly unruffled, 'this information is all in the record. I am simply trying to keep things as clear and simple as I can.'

'Objection overruled,' said Judge Bashir. Malfoy's lawyer gave a casual shrug and sat back in her chair. 'Please continue, Mr. Malfoy,' Bashir added, nodding to Draco.

'Right,' said Draco, his voice faltering just slightly. 'Uh...we were at the house...me and the other Death Eaters...at the Riddle House...and...and we'd caught Potter...Harry Potter and his friends...and they'd been brought to see the Dark Lord...You-Know-Who...they were trying to rescue Luna Lovegood...'

'Miss Lovegood is a classmate, correct?' D'Amico interjected.

'Yes,' said Draco, his voice a bit more confident now. 'They wanted to get her out, but they got caught and...and the Dark Lord confronted them and...and told them he was going to kill them all.'

'And your father was there when this happened?' D'Amico asked.

'Yes--' Draco began.

'Objection,' said Lucius Malfoy's lawyer again, more loudly. 'Counsel is leading the witness.'

'Your Honour,' said D'Amico, holding out his hands, 'if Miss Rosier continues to object at the current rate we'll be here until Christmas. All of this information is clearly stated in the record--'

'Rosier?' Harry muttered. 'Her name's Rosier?'

'I'd have no reason to object if Counsel would stop asking the witness leading questions,' Miss Rosier interrupted. 'The last time I checked, the only time leading questions were allowed was during cross-examination.'

Ron gaped at Malfoy's lawyer, who was standing now, and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be...

'What about her name?' Ginny hissed at Harry.

'Enough,' Judge Bashir said, with a bang of his gavel. 'Miss Rosier, thank you for that tutorial on the particulars of criminal proceedings, but I assure you, I'm quite familiar with them. Your objection is overruled. That said, Mr. D'Amico, Miss Rosier does have a point. You will refrain from asking leading questions of your witnesses, and I must ask you to rephrase this question.'

'Of course, Your Honour,' said D'Amico smoothly.

'Thank you, Your Honour,' said Miss Rosier, and she gracefully sat down.

Ron vaguely heard Harry whispering to Ginny.

'There was a Death Eater named Rosier,' Harry said. 'He was killed by Aurors almost 20 years ago...Ron? What's wrong?' 

Ron snapped out of his reverie and looked at Harry.

'Malfoy's lawyer,' he whispered. 'I think...she's the woman who was in my dream. About Voldemort...'

'Are you sure?' Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and fearful. 'I thought you said you didn't see her face--'

Ron nodded. 'It's the voice,' he muttered back. 'I'm telling you, it's her--'

'Order!' called Judge Bashir, banging his gavel sharply. 'I must insist on silence from the audience during these proceedings.'

Ron was just about to say something else, but Hermione shook her head. Ron looked up at Draco, who'd gone white and was shaking in his seat.

'Mr. Malfoy?' D'Amico asked. 'Are you quite all right to continue?'

'F-Father...' Draco whispered, and he pointed at Lucius Malfoy's table.

'Look at Draco Malfoy!' came a voice from somewhere closer to the front of the room. Like a wave everyone looked up to see Draco, cowering in his seat. Tears were running down his face and he was pointing helplessly at the defense table.

Ron's eyes moved at once to the defense table to see Miss Rosier with her hand on Lucius Malfoy's shoulder. Except that Lucius Malfoy was...changing.

Slowly the sleek blond hair faded, replaced by stringy brown hair in bad need of a cut; the fine silk robes vanished to become tatty, torn, dirty brown ones.

Lucius Malfoy was gone.

_Oh, no..._

Someone screamed, and the Auror/Bailiff croaked, 'That's not Lucius Malfoy!'

Ron felt his stomach swoop in horror as he began to understand what his dream meant.

_It is done..._

Lucius Malfoy had been sprung. Somehow. And standing in his place was...a stand-in.

_How?_

_His lawyer.__ Miss Rosier..._

In the pandemonium that ensued, Ron only had time to consider that Malfoy couldn't have possibly Apparated his way out of the courtroom; there were anti-Apparition wards up and even if Malfoy had managed it, someone would have heard him doing it.

'Miss Rosier!' Judge Bashir screamed above the sudden din. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'I don't know, Judge, I swear!' she cried, backing away. 

'She's lying!' Ron yelled, without thinking, but nobody heard him, because at that very moment the man sitting in Malfoy's place suddenly seemed to realize he was in a courtroom, and he went into a panic. With a loud roar he leapt over the table.

'Get him!' the Judge hollered, and at once the Auror/Bailiff and two more Aurors launched themselves at the man, knocking him down.

'What the hell's going on?' Ginny and Harry said together. 

'Everyone stay close!' Remus Lupin snapped. 'Stay calm.'

By now everyone was standing up, talking and gesticulating as they watched the three Aurors struggle to subdue the unknown man. Meanwhile, other Aurors began to patrol the room; some of them waved their wands in what looked like aimless patterns, but Ron guessed they must be rechecking the wards.

'ORDER!' Judge Bashir screamed, and he smacked his gavel so hard that it broke. He rolled his eyes, pulled out his wand, and fixed the gavel.

His command seemed to have worked to silence the crowd; Ron saw that the unknown man had been subdued.

'Everyone sit DOWN,' Judge Bashir hissed angrily; his brown face was now purple with fury.

'Obviously we have a very serious problem,' he went on.

Gee, you think so? Ron thought savagely. His eyes darted wildly round the room. Draco was still in the witness chair, trembling and crying. Ron had never seen the other boy look so pathetic. Pity reared its ugly head again.

'Bailiff, take this man into custody immediately,' said the judge. 'Mr. D'Amico, report to Law Enforcement. Find out if Lucius Malfoy is still in custody and if not, put out an All Points Bulletin.'

'Yes, sir,' D'Amico said, his voice shaking. But his face was a mask of fury as he closed his attaché case and stormed out of the courtroom. 

'Miss Rosier,' said Judge Bashir, glaring down at Malfoy's lawyer, who was standing rigidly next to the table. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'I swear, Judge,' she said, her voice shaking only slightly, 'I know nothing of this.'

'Really?' said Judge Bashir doubtfully.

'I'd be willing to undergo interrogation with Veritaserum to prove it,' she said, a note of defiance in her voice.

'She's lying--' Ron yelled again.

'QUIET!' Judge Bashir bellowed. 'Another outburst from ANYONE in this courtroom and I'll have you arrested! Miss Rosier, you will be escorted to an interrogation room this instant. This court must stand in recess.'

And with another bang of his gavel, everyone stood up; the reporters all rushed, as a mob, out of the courtroom, bumping into one another as they went.

'Hang on, everyone,' Lupin ordered. 'Unless you want to be trampled.'

'Remus, we have to get them out of here--' Mrs. Weasley began fretfully.

'I know, Molly,' Lupin called. 

'What just happened?' Harry asked, looking shell-shocked.

'It appears you won't have to testify against Lucius Malfoy, after all,' said Lupin dryly. 

'Professor--' Harry began.

'I don't know exactly what's going on, Harry,' Lupin interrupted. 'But Malfoy's out, and that's a problem. We need to get you and Ron and the girls home.'

'What'll happen to Draco?' Ginny asked; they all looked up to see the same Aurors who'd brought Draco in trying to help him from his chair; he'd stopped crying and shaking but he seemed to be almost in a half-swoon.

'I don't know,' said Lupin. 'The Ministry will have to sort it out. Let's go.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, Ron and the others were back in the Burrow. They'd come back via Portkey, but Mr. Weasley and Lupin had had to turn right back round and leave: Mr. Weasley for the Ministry, and Lupin to Order headquarters. The werewolf made a vague mention of meeting with Dumbledore.

Now Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley sat in silence, picking listlessly at the lunch Mrs. Weasley had prepared. Nobody seemed to be able to speak. Occasionally Ron felt Hermione's hand on his knee, but the warmth of her touch didn't soothe him at all.

In face, he felt slightly sick. He'd known something was going to happen. But in a million years, never this. How on earth had this happened? And why, WHY didn't Ron see it coming? And her name. Rosier. Harry said that there'd been a Death Eater named Rosier nearly two decades ago who'd been killed by Aurors. Was she related? 

_Idiot, she's a Death Eater, too, remember? And if that's the case she's got to be a pure-blood and that means she's almost certainly related to this Rosier prat who died all those years ago._

Ron chewed listlessly at his sandwich as he considered the implications of everything. Was he a Seer, or not?

Obviously he had SOME skill as a sort-of Seer, but what good were his dreams if they didn't tell him what he needed to know, before something bad happened? 

Maybe I'm doing something wrong. Maybe I'm supposed to meditate or go into trances or whatever to help me clear my mind...

Ron had remembered how Parvati and Lavender would often be found in the common room sitting cross legged in a corner, their eyes closed as they hummed in an attempt to meditate. Ron had always thought they looked ridiculous, but now he wondered if maybe he was supposed to be doing something like that. Dumbledore had told Ron he needed to develop his skills to realize his full potential, if he was indeed a Seer.

_How am I supposed to develop my skills if I don't know...how to develop my skills? Dumbledore never told me anything about that, if I'm supposed to meditate or exercise or..._

_Bloody hell.___

The whoosh of owl's wings brought Ron back to his senses; a tawny owl swooped into the kitchen bearing a small scroll. It landed in front of Mrs. Weasley, who opened the scroll and read it, her forehead creased in a frown.

'What's up, Mum?' Ginny asked.

Mrs. Weasley looked fretful. 'It's a note from Dumbledore. He wants all of us to move over to Order Headquarters.'

'Now?' said Ron.

'Now,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'He's worried that the Burrow won't be safe--'

'But we have all those new wards!' Ginny protested.

'The wards we have are the same ones they used on the courtroom,' Mrs. Weasley said. 'And since nobody's been able to figure out yet just how Lucius Malfoy got away, we can't assume that the wards are strong enough not to be penetrated.'

'How long do we have to stay there?' said Harry glumly.

'I'm not sure, dear,' said Mrs. Weasley sympathetically. 'I'm so sorry. I know this has been an awful day for you.'

'I've had worse,' said Harry, shrugging.

Nobody said a word for a long moment.

At last, Mrs. Weasley stood up. 'You lot go upstairs and pack your trunks. You'll have to leave them here but someone will pick them up later. I'll clean up here. We're going by Floo and we'll need to leave in a half hour.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty-five minutes later, Ron stepped from the fireplace in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He coughed and brushed soot from his clothes, and at that moment the only thing he could think of was standing under a hot shower and then collapsing into bed and sleeping for a week.

Hermione came out soon after, followed by Harry, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. The kitchen was empty but the long table was out and surrounded by a dozen or more chairs; Ron remembered there had been an Order meeting. Was it only last night? It seemed like weeks ago.

Ron glanced at Harry, who had a sad look on his face; he hadn't been back here since before Sirius had died.

'You okay, mate?' Ron muttered.

'I guess,' said Harry unconvincingly.

Mrs. Weasley led them upstairs and reminded them to keep quiet; they passed by the wall covered by velvet curtains that hid Mrs. Black's portrait.

'Dumbledore said your old rooms should be ready,' Mrs. Weasley whispered.

'Great,' Harry muttered, keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him. They walked up the flight of stairs and headed down the long corridor to the room Ron and Harry had shared two summers before.

Ron made to open the door when he heard voices.

'What the--' He opened the door.

'Ron, wait!' Mrs. Weasley hissed, yanking out her wand.

But as the others tried to pile into the room behind Ron, they all collided with him. Ron had stopped dead in his tracks and stood rooted to the spot, staring into the bedroom.

'Ron!' said Mr. Weasley, with a falsely boisterous note in his voice. 'Harry, Hermione, Ginny. And...Molly!'

'Hello,' said Professor Lupin.

Nobody else said a word. They were too busy staring at the person standing just behind Lupin.

'What,' Ron finally managed, 'is HE doing here?'

'It's the only safe place for him at the moment, Ron,' said Mr. Weasley quickly.

'You have got to be kidding me,' said Harry angrily.

Standing just behind Lupin was Draco Malfoy.

________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Okay, how was that? Good? Great? Awful? Reviews are my bread and butter.**

**A couple of notes...**

**First and foremost, apologies to BRIOS for not giving proper credit where credit is due--BRIOS, not ARIOS, is the resident reader/lawyer.**

**Second, I take full responsibility for any and all inaccuracies with regard to the courtroom proceedings in this chapter. I am pretty well versed in how things work in the American system. I'm also aware that the American legal system and procedures have been largely adapted from the British legal system. That said, the proceedings as I illustrated them here almost certainly come across as American. I simply don't have a great deal of knowledge of the niceties of British legal proceedings, and I fully admit I'm just too lazy, impatient and flat-out busy to go researching all of that. So, while I have worked hard to make the books seem as Brit as possible, it's likely that this chapter Reeks American, and I apologize for any inconsistencies. **

**Third, continued apologies for the slower pace of updating. The chapters are becoming tougher to write as I hash out the direction of my plot. I almost feel like I've bitten off more than I can chew here, and it's quite a battle keeping everything straight in my head. And heck, I'm eleven chapters in now and we're not even at Hogwarts yet. But I hope everyone is enjoying this and sticks with it.**


	12. Chapter Twelve: The Unwelcome Guest

**A/N: A couple of helpful reviewers pointed out a slight continuity problem between this chapter and the next. Oops! I'm reposting this chapter to fix that. Thanks!**

_Chapter Twelve: The Unwelcome Guest_

'You can't be serious,' Ron said indignantly, still glaring at Malfoy.

'Ron, I'm afraid it can't be helped,' Mr. Weasley said, holding up a placating arm.

'Oh, come on!' Ron protested. 'I thought he was in protective custody!'

'With his father out of prison, the Ministry and Dumbledore felt it necessary to move Draco to another location,' said Lupin evenly.

'So they move him HERE?' Harry finally blurted out. 'He's the son of a bloody Death Eater and you bring him here?'

'This is a bad idea,' Draco muttered. The scared, haunted look on his face was being replaced by one of annoyance and that familiar hubris.

'Damn right it is,' Ron growled.

'Ron!' Mrs. Weasley and Hermione both said.

'What?' said Ron defensively. 'How do we know he's not still working for them, anyway?'

'Weasley, you idiot, I helped get you out of the Riddle House!' Draco snapped.

'That's only after your dad gave you up to die with the rest of us!' Ron shouted.

'He was there with the other Death Eaters,' Harry spat. 

'I'm not a fucking Death Eater!' Draco yelled.

'You watch your mouth, young man--' Mrs. Weasley began.

'Oh, yeah?' Ron challenged, advancing on him. 'Let's have a look at your forearm, then.'

'Ron, honestly!' said Mrs. Weasley impatiently.

'You want to see my arm, Weasley?' Draco growled, and he yanked up the right sleeve of his shirt. 'There. Have a good look.'

Branded on his pale flesh was the Dark Mark. 

'Oh...dear,' said Mrs. Weasley, horrified.

Ron glared at Draco. 'Thought so,' he said. 

'Oh, please,' Draco said, rolling his eyes. 'I'm not the first person with a Dark Mark who's no longer helping out the Dark Lord.'

'Professor Lupin, isn't there anyplace else--' Hermione said timidly.

'He can't stay here,' said Harry angrily. 'No way.'

'Harry, it's not permanent,' said Lupin. 'But Dumbledore has to decide--'

'Well, bugger Dumbledore!' Harry yelled.

'Harry!' Mrs. Weasley gasped.

'No, dammit!' Harry stormed. 'It's my bloody birthday today, okay? And instead of hanging out at the Burrow and, oh, I dunno, having a good time I had to go to bloody court to testify against his psycho father. Only it turns out Psycho Dad got away because some idiots at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement let him slip away. Then we have to come here to this...BLOODY HOUSE...which is the last place on earth I want to be and this...this...piece of scum is here to--'

'Harry, that's enough!' Lupin shouted, his voice so loud everyone jumped. 'I know this has been a hell of a day for you, but you're not the only one who's having a difficult time of it.'

'I don't need a bloody werewolf to defend me,' Draco snapped, glowering at Lupin.

'Shut up, Draco,' Lupin barked. 'This situation is not ideal. But it is the only solution we can come up with on such short notice.'

'This is bullshit,' said Draco, and he started to stalk toward the door. There was no trace of the cowering boy who'd been in the witness chair earlier that day. 'I'm out of here.'

'You're not going anywhere,' Lupin snapped.

Draco gave a hollow, bitter laugh and turned. 'Oh, really? And I suppose you're going to stop me?'

'You're staying here, Draco,' said Lupin evenly. 'Whether you or anyone else likes it or not.'

'I'm seventeen,' Draco sneered. 'You can't tell me what to do.'

'He's right, Remus,' said Arthur Weasley calmly. 'He is of age.'

Draco smirked. 'Well...it's about time there was one Weasley who had a bit of sense.'

'Piss off, Malfoy,' Ron snarled.

'Ron!' Mrs. Weasley hissed, through gritted teeth.

'Go ahead, Draco,' Mr. Weasley said. 'You're free to leave whenever you want. I'm sure you'll be just fine on your own. Without a wand.'

Draco froze and swallowed.

'I can buy new one,' he said defiantly.

'With what, your charm?' said Lupin dryly. 'You're forgetting that the Ministry, along with the cooperation of the dozen or so banks your father put his money in, has frozen all his assets, including every last bit of cash.'

'That's not true,' said Draco angrily. 'Dad always keeps a stash of Galleons in the house, somewhere the Ministry can't find it...'

'Well, if you'd like to go to Malfoy Mansion be our guest,' said Mr. Weasley genially. 'You understand, we can't spare any Aurors to guard you when you go.'

'You don't know what you're talking about,' Draco snarled.

'I'm afraid I do,' said Mr. Weasley lightly. 'You see, Draco, the only reason you're not rotting in a cell right now is because you agreed to testify against your father. Unfortunately for you, that's put you at risk, and it is the unpleasant job of the Ministry to ensure your safety. As such, you have a choice. You can stay here, under the guard of a dozen experienced, highly trained Aurors who will put their very lives on the line for you, or you can walk out of here and fend for yourself, all alone, with no money and no place to stay. Just remember, You-Know-Who is out there and the last time you were in his company he tried to have you killed.'

Draco swallowed again; his nostrils were flared and his pale, gaunt face was flushed with anger. He glowered at Harry and Ron, then at Hermione, before his eyes fell on Ginny. Ginny glared at him with glittering brown eyes.

'I'll stay,' he said, smirking at Ginny. 

'Fine, it's settled,' said Mr. Weasley firmly. 'I have to get back to the office. Remus is meeting with Dumbledore shortly. Molly...I hate to ask, but...'

Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head. 'I know. This house is a mess again. We'll clean it up.'

'Great,' Ron mumbled sarcastically; Harry rolled his eyes in agreement. Some birthday this was turning out to be. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't seem possible, but the day went downhill from there. Doxies had taken up residence, with a vengeance, in the many rooms of the house that had been designated as storage space for the Order. Boxes and crates lined the dust-filled rooms; Harry wondered what all this stuff could possibly be, but when Ron tried to ask Mrs. Weasley cut him off with a stern look.

As bad as ridding the rooms of doxies was, it didn't compare to Draco Malfoy, who balked at the very idea of doing anything remotely related to housework.

'You're mad,' he said when Mrs. Weasley handed him a bottle of Doxicide. 'This is servants' stuff, for god's sake.'

'Oh, please,' Ginny muttered.

'We're short of servants here, Draco,' said Mrs. Weasley crisply. 'I'm afraid you'll just have to get your hands dirty.'

'No way,' said Draco angrily. 'I'm not doing shit. I didn't ask to be here, you can't make me do any bloody chores.'

'Fine,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Don't do anything. You can forget about having any meals, then.'

'What?'

'See, Malfoy,' said Ron, his voice dripping with scorn, 'around here, people earn their keep, and Mum doesn't go cooking for layabouts.'

'This isn't fair,' Draco said, in as whiny a voice as Harry had ever heard him use; Harry tried not to smile.

'Life isn't fair,' said Mrs. Weasley coldly. 'You'll do your bit or you won't eat. And another thing. You'll clean up your language right now, or I'll wash your filthy mouth out with soap. Understood?'

'You wouldn't dare,' Draco said defiantly, even as the color drained from his cheeks.

'Watch me,' said Mrs. Weasley, tapping her wand against her thigh.

Draco's pale face went red again, and he snatched the bottle of Doxicide from Mrs. Weasley's hand.

'Fine,' he said.

'Good,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Now, pay attention. Doxies can and do bite if you're not careful...'

For a half hour, they went at the doxies; it would have been in silence but for the constant, indignant mutterings of Draco. Harry couldn't make out all that he said but he was sure he caught the words 'slave labor' and 'fucking Weasleys' and 'nasty bitch.'

Draco's mutterings turned to a scream, however, when a doxie slipped past a squirt of Doxicide and bit him soundly on the hand. He yelled and danced about, shaking his hand and squealing theatrically, until Mrs. Weasley gave him a dose of antidote. Draco tried to use the doxie bite as an excuse to skive off any further work, but Mrs. Weasley wasn't having it. This prompted more muttering from Draco, nearly all of it derisive to Mrs. Weasley.

By the time dinner rolled around, everyone's moods were near the breaking point. Mrs. Weasley ordered everyone to help with preparing the meal.

Harry didn't mind helping with cooking; it beat getting rid of doxies by a mile. Ron offered to prepare the roast potatoes and the vegetables, and for once, Mrs. Weasley happily delegated part of the cooking to her youngest son. Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Draco were charged with chopping vegetables.

'What?' said Draco, appalled. 'Bad enough I'm reduced to kitchen help here. But you want me doing it the Mudblood way?'

Ron was on him in an instant.

'What did you just say?' he growled, holding Draco's shirt by the collar and practically lifted him off the ground.

'Ron,' said Hermione, shaking her head. 

'Get off me,' Draco wheezed; his air supply was getting cut off by Ron's huge hand gripping his collar.

'Ron, put him down, for heaven's sake,' Mrs. Weasley snapped.

'You heard what he said, Mum!' Ron protested, not letting go of Draco.

'Yes, I did,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'But the last thing I need is my son going to prison for choking somebody to death!'

'Fine,' said Ron, and he let go of Draco roughly, giving him a shrug. Draco coughed and glowered at Ron, then at Mrs. Weasley. 

'Draco, as long as you are under this roof, that word will not be tolerated,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Now, why don't you set the table? I assume you know how to do that.'

'Whatever,' said Draco haughtily, and he set about doing so, muttering to himself all the while. 

Half hour later, the table was set; Draco insisted on setting the table as formally as possible. Which meant that each place setting had a shrimp fork, a salad fork, a dinner fork, a dessert spoon, a tea spoon, a fish knife, a steak knife, a water goblet, a wine glass, a bread plate, a salad plate, a soup bowl, a dinner plate, and beneath that, a charger.

'What the hell is all this for?' Ron demanded.

'This is a how a proper table looks, Weasley,' said Draco, sneering. 'Not that you'd know anything about fine dining.'

'It's lovely, Draco,' said Mrs. Weasley, her voice falsely cheerful. 'I'm not sure why you'd want to make so much extra work for yourself later, but--'

'What do you mean?' Draco interrupted.

'When you're doing dishes,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Quite a lot of dishes to wash, of course...'

Draco put away everything but the dinner plates, the steak knives, the water goblets, and the forks.

An hour after that, dinner was served. Tonks showed up, along with Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Bill and the twins. Harry couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure that the presence of the twins--and their repeated smug, nasty looks--was what caused Draco's nasty attitude to go into hiding during the meal. He said almost nothing during the whole of dinner.

This didn't stop him from glancing at Ginny, frequently. Harry watched Ginny as well, and noticed that she seemed to be trying to avoid looking at Draco at all. The one time she did meet Draco's gaze, she looked away quickly. 

What the hell is that all about? Harry wondered irritably. Ron was sitting at the opposite end of the table, talking animatedly with Bill about something or other. Ron seemed to be making a point of ignoring Draco, and in so doing, he didn't notice the other boy looking at Ginny.

The meal ended sometime later; Ginny quickly retreated from the kitchen and headed upstairs. Harry watched her go, and then noticed Draco doing the same. Draco met Harry's gaze and he sneered before Mrs. Weasley tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the sink. Draco rolled his eyes and began to clear the table. The twins volunteered to help, and Harry bit back a laugh as Draco nearly dropped a plate in response. Mrs. Weasley gave the twins a warning look and they smiled sweetly, first at their mother, then at Draco, who blanched. Harry would have stuck around to watch the twins torment Draco, but Ron tugged on his arm.

'What?' Harry asked.

'Birthday presents, you idiot,' said Ron. 'Might as well enjoy something about today.'

Harry trooped upstairs and into the room he and Ron shared to find their trunks, and something else. A cot had been set up in the room. Hermione and Ginny were already there; Hermione glanced nervously at the cot, then at the boys.

'It looks like you...have another roommate,' she said.

'Oh, no,' Ron groaned. 'Mum can't be serious. Letting Ratboy sleep in HERE? What about one of the spare rooms? This bloody house is huge, it's got a ton of them--'

'All the spare rooms are being used for storage, remember?' said Hermione.

'Wonderful,' said Harry. 'How much more fun could we have today?'

'Let's give Harry his presents before he hurts himself,' said Ginny, chuckling.

From Ron, Harry got a full measure of Honeydukes' sweets; the twins bought him a supply of Weasley's Wily Writer; Hermione gave him a new schoolbag embroidered with the Gryffindor lion; and Ginny handed him a badge, also in the shape of the Gryffindor lion, with the words 'Quidditch Captain' emblazoned across it; beneath was a tiny replica of his Firebolt.

'You can pin it to your Quidditch robes,' she said, shrugging.

'It's brilliant,' said Harry, grinning. 'Thanks.'

His good mood at receiving birthday gifts didn't last. Not long after Lupin appeared with Draco. Draco scowled and went to flop down on his cot.

'Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny,' he said, nodding to them. 'Are you all okay?'

'Fine,' they all mumbled, glaring at Draco.

'I've been downstairs talking things over with Arthur,' said Lupin. 'About what happened today. The Ministry has a good theory as to how Lucius Malfoy escaped.'

'Polyjuice Potion,' said Hermione at once. 'The man in the courtroom, when he transformed back to himself. That's exactly what happens when Polyjuice Potion wears off.'

'That's right, Hermione,' said Lupin, looking impressed. He wasn't the only one.

'What's the Ministry's theory?' Hermione asked, taking a seat on Ron's bed. Harry noticed the tips of Ron's ears go slightly pink.

'I'm more interested in hearing yours, actually,' said Lupin. 'Maybe you've caught something that the Ministry missed.'

'Okay,' said Hermione, looking very pleased. 'I think Miss Rosier helped Malfoy get out. I think they used the same scheme that Barty Crouch used when his wife and son switched places. Only in Miss Rosier's case, she wasn't the substitute for Malfoy. How could she be? She needed to go to court. And she's a Death Eater, too--it makes no sense for her to take Malfoy's place in prison, because Voldemort would still be out a Death Eater. And who else is going to volunteer to take Malfoy's place in prison? Nobody's going to do that. So I think Miss Rosier found herself a victim--that homeless man we saw. She used the Imperius Curse on him. She took a bit of his hair, and a bit of Malfoy's, prepared some Polyjuice Potion, took the homeless man with her to the prison this morning to visit Malfoy. Malfoy took the potion with the homeless man's hair in it, and the homeless man drank the potion with Malfoy's hair in it, and they switched. Malfoy left on his own, and Miss Rosier stayed with the homeless man in order to make sure the Polyjuice Potion didn't wear off; she probably gave him another dose of it before court this morning, just to be safe, and to give Malfoy enough time to get far away before anyone was the wiser.'

Everyone but Lupin gaped at Hermione.

'That's basically the Ministry's theory,' said Lupin. 'The homeless man is a Muggle, by the way. No family to speak of. But I'm afraid the Ministry would say you're wrong about Miss Rosier.'

'Why?' said Hermione, looking a bit affronted.

'She submitted to interrogation under Veritaserum,' said Lupin. 'They asked her repeatedly if she had any involvement in Malfoy's escape, and she said no.'

'That doesn't necessarily mean she wasn't involved,' Hermione protested. 'Maybe she's figured out how to fight the effects of Veritaserum.'

'That's a possibility,' said Lupin. 'But the Ministry's potion is a hundred times stronger than the potion you brew in your Potions lessons. The Ministry is hard pressed to believe that she could have resisted what they gave her.'

'So...they let her go?' said Hermione, aghast.

'What choice did they have?' said Lupin. 'She had nothing to tell them in her interrogation.'

'That's not on,' said Ron. 'She's a Death Eater. I know she is--'

'Dumbledore told me what you saw, Ron,' said Lupin carefully, casting a glance at Draco, who was glaring up at the ceiling as he lay flat on his back on the bed. 'And the Ministry of course has its suspicions. Not only because of her family history--'

'So she is related to that Death Eater Rosier who got killed,' Harry interrupted.

'She's his daughter,' said Lupin. 

'All the more reason for her to be a Death Eater,' said Ron firmly. 'She'd want to avenge her dad, wouldn't she?'

'I'd say so,' said Lupin. 'But Helene Rosier is nothing if not very smart. If she is a Death Eater she's kept it very well hidden. She's publicly denounced her father on numerous occasions, and even after spending years under surveillance by the Ministry, there's no whiff of suspicion where she's concerned. Well, apart from the fact that she tends to represent unsavory clients.'

At this Draco snorted and sat up.

'You're joking, right?' he said angrily. 'I told the bloody prosecutor I remembered seeing her at a meeting last year; she's a Death Eater--'

'The only evidence, Draco, that Helene Rosier is a Death Eater is your testimony that you  might have seen her very briefly at one meeting last year,' said Lupin evenly. 'Considering that Miss Rosier has been conspicuously absent from every event that you and Harry place your father, considering that thus far you are the only person to claim to have seen her, in the flesh, at a Death Eater function--and you can't even be sure the woman you saw was her--there is no evidence to arrest her.'

'What about what my mum told me?' Draco retorted. 'She knew Dad was having it off with that slag, she caught them going at it once--'

'Which proves that your father was unfaithful to his wife,' said Lupin, 'and that both he and his attorney engaged in unethical--not illegal--behaviour. Your testimony against Miss Rosier; what Ron saw...none of it is enough. The only thing the Ministry can do is continue to tail her and see if they can catch her in a mistake, or doing something illegal. For what it's worth I'm quite positive Miss Rosier is a Death Eater. But my word, my own beliefs, count for little at the Ministry. But clearly Voldemort has different ideas for her--she doesn't seem to be one of his footsoldiers. I'm guessing her role is strictly covert, which is why she's been able to cover her tracks so well.'

'Who else could have helped Malfoy escape, though?' said Hermione impatiently. 'It has to be Miss Rosier! How many people would openly associate with Malfoy? And the prison guards at Azkaban--they're not stupid. They're not going to let just anyone in. She must have disguised the homeless man, made him a co-counsel of hers or...or a relative of Malfoy's or something. Whatever it was, I'm guessing she took him to the prison more than once, and she had a whole backstory prepared to fool the guards--'

'Hermione, I agree with you,' said Lupin, holding up a hand. 'But like I said, there's no evidence to lock up Miss Rosier. Not right now.'

'Couldn't Dumbledore say something?' said Harry. 

'He has,' said Lupin. 'But Dumbledore's word, however valued by Madam Bones, isn't enough for the Chief Prosecutor to arrest Miss Rosier.'

'Then what's the bloody point of the Ministry, anyway?' Ron seethed. 'If they can't lock up criminals--'

'Ron, it's not that simple,' said Lupin patiently. 'There are rules and procedures to be followed, and those rules and procedures are not arbitrary. They're put in place for a reason--to protect the innocent from being wrongfully accused.'

'Yes, those procedures worked so well for Sirius,' Harry snarled.

'I never said the system was perfect,' said Lupin sadly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Harry lay on his bed in the dark of the bedroom he shared with Ron, and now Draco. Draco had moved his cot far away from Ron's and Harry's beds, so that it was near the door to the bedroom. 

'I'm not going to subject myself to Weasel and Potty odors all night,' he'd said, at which Harry had rolled his eyes and muttered 'Fuck you' and Ron had given Draco a rude hand gesture.

Now, Ron was fast asleep, his hand thrust beneath his pillow--no doubt clutching his wand. Draco, too, appeared to be asleep.

Harry, however, was wide awake. It was more than just the disappointment of a rotten birthday keeping him up, he knew. After all, bad birthdays were not anything new for him. No, it was everything. Seeing Susan in court, with another bloke. 

It hurt to think about, especially considering the way Susan had broken things off, telling Harry that she still loved him but that she couldn't be with him because he was...Harry. 

_Yeah, she really loved you. So much that it only took her a month to find somebody else._

And then there was this house. It had never been a happy place, but at least, occasionally, he'd had a good time here, with Sirius. Harry shuddered; Sirius had hated this house, but his presence was still in it, in spite of everything. Harry suddenly wondered if Buckbeak was still holed up on the third floor somewhere. He didn't recall hearing any scratching of claws across the wood floors, but then, he hadn't been exactly listening for that, either. 

At last Harry felt exhaustion steal over him; his eyes grew heavy and tired and he pulled off his glasses and set them on the table next to his bed. He felt himself dropping off when he heard a moan coming from Draco's bed.

_Great.__ If it's not Ron talking in his sleep it's this prat. I really ought to get myself some earplugs._

'I can't...' Draco whimpered. 'Father...don't...'

Harry turned his head toward Draco's bed; even though Harry's eyes were blurred without his glasses, he could tell the blond boy was tossing and turning.

'I'm your son...' Draco muttered, and there was a hitch in his voice.

Harry watched Draco for a long moment, debating what to do. 

_Should I wake him? _

_Are you mad? You don't feel sorry for him again, do you?_

_Yeah, actually, I do. I hate that._

_Leave him be. He deserves to have a few nightmares, after everything he's done._

_That's true. But...he's keeping ME awake!_

Just as Harry was about to get up and go wake Draco, Draco fell still and silent; his dream, apparently, was over. Harry let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes, feeling sleep come over him again; in less than a minute, he was asleep.

_Almost at once, he was awake again. But he wasn't at Number __12 Grimmauld Place__. He was somewhere else, in a room with a huge fireplace. Even though it was summer, there was a fire roaring. He was sitting in a chair, staring at the flames, feeling oddly satisfied about something. He stood up and winced. His whole body was sore and felt tender, as though he'd exercised hard the day before. He looked in the mirror and red, slitted eyes stared back at him, and a lipless mouth smiled. At that moment, the door behind him opened, and two people entered, both of them dressed in black robes, with hoods on their heads._

_Harry turned, and the feeling of satisfaction increased._

_'My lord,' said one of the robed figures. A woman, who spoke with a low, elegant voice. She knelt before him and removed her hood, revealing dark hair and pale, creamy skin. 'I've brought him.'_

_The other robed figure knelt down in a position more prostrate than the one the woman had taken._

_'My lord,' said the man, in a voice as low and elegant as the woman's._

_'Rise,' said Harry, his voice oddly thin and high-pitched. 'Reveal yourself.'_

_The man stood and pulled back his hood, revealing sleek, long blond hair and glittering, cold grey eyes._

_'My lord,' he said again, nodding._

_'Welcome back, Lucius.'_

_CRACK!_

Harry gasped and sat up in bed; his scar was throbbing, burning. The pain made his eyes water. He rubbed furiously at his scar and blinked; everything was blurry. He grabbed his glasses and put them on, trying to get his bearings.

The dream. He'd dreamed of Voldemort. Only this time, he WAS Voldemort. He saw everything as though he were inside Voldemort's body. Which could only mean one thing...

_He's fully recovered. Enough to get inside your mind and make you see things as he sees them. Before, in that other dream, you were watching. This time, you were him..._

'No,' Harry whispered. He went through every detail of the dream. The woman--she must be Miss Rosier. And Lucius Malfoy...he was back in Voldemort's service. And then, a loud crack. Someone Apparating, or Disapparating?

Harry whipped his head toward Draco's bed and felt his stomach plummet. It was empty.

Oh, shit. Where the hell is he?

Harry leapt out of bed and nearly stumbled to the floor as new pain in his scar tore through him. He gritted his teeth and pushed past the pain, grabbing his wand from beneath his pillow and walking unsteadily toward the bathroom.

_Don't panic, Potter. Malfoy could have just gotten up to have a pee. That crack you heard was probably just a part of your dream..._

_Except that the bathroom door was open, and the room itself was empty._

_Shit, shit, SHIT. Somebody just Apparated, I know it. And now Draco, the stupid prat, he's not in his bed..._

_But this place has to have anti-Apparition wards. It has to..._

Harry winced as another stab of pain shot through his scar, and he stumbled over to Ron's bed.

'Ron!' he hissed, poking his best mate in the shoulder. 'Ron, wake up!'

'Mmm, 'Mione...' Ron mumbled, chuckling and rolling over onto his stomach. 

Oh, for god's sake...

'RON!' Harry snapped, punching Ron hard in the arm. 'WAKE UP!'

'What!?' Ron yelled, sitting up. 'Jesus, Harry, what the hell are you doing? Thanks a lot, I was having a really good dream--'

'Malfoy's gone,' Harry interrupted, not wanting to hear one word about Ron's sex dream.

'What?' said Ron, and he glanced over at Malfoy's bed. Ron rolled his eyes.

'For god's sake, Harry, the stupid git probably had to pee,' he said.

'He's not in the loo,' Harry snapped. 'Listen to me. I just had a dream, I was Voldemort and I was sitting in a room somewhere and Miss Rosier showed up. With Lucius Malfoy.'

'Shit,' said Ron, running a hand through his hair. 'But what does that have to do with--'

'I heard a crack,' said Harry. 'Someone Apparated. But I don't know if it was in my dream.'

'You mean--'

'Think about it,' said Harry.

'Harry, this place probably has a hundred Anti-Apparition wards on it,' Ron protested, but even as he said this, he was sitting up and reaching for his wand.

'Probably,' said Harry, 'but then you explain why Malfoy isn't here.'

'I don't know!' said Ron irritably. 'He's probably skulking about the house--this place probably reminds him of home. Maybe he's talking to Mrs. Black's portrait--they're related and she'd probably love him.'

'I'm looking for him,' Harry snapped. 'Are you coming with me or not--'

At that moment there was a soft but firm knock on the door.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances and held out their wands.

'If it was a Death Eater he wouldn't knock,' Ron pointed out. 'On the other hand--'

'We'll keep our wands up,' Harry agreed. He cleared his throat and called out softly, 'Come in.'

The door opened and Hermione hurried in, wearing a dressing gown and carrying her wand. She looked pale and agitated.

'Hermione?' said Harry and Ron together.

'Ginny's not in her bed,' she said at once. 'I woke up to use the loo and her bed's empty.'

'What?' said Harry and Ron together.

'I didn't hear her get up!' Hermione said desperately.

'Shit!' said Ron. 'Malfoy's gone, and now Ginny--'

'Malfoy's gone?' said Hermione. 'What do you mean?'

'Harry had a dream about Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy and he said he heard a cracking noise, like someone had Apparated--' Ron said.

'Surely there are wards up that prevent Apparating from outside!' said Hermione.

'Maybe someone found a way around that,' said Ron. 'Wards aren't foolproof, remember!'

'I know that, Ron--' Hermione began heatedly.

'Knock it off, both of you!' Harry groaned. 'Look, for all we know, Malfoy went to snog Mrs. Black's portrait and Ginny's in the kitchen having a cup of tea. Or maybe Malfoy went up to harass Buckbeak and Buckbeak ate him--'

'I wish,' Ron grumbled.

'--but before we go losing our heads,' said Harry, 'why don't we start looking for them?'

'Right,' said Ron at once. 'Good idea.'

'And if anything looks off, we raise the alarm, agreed?' said Harry. 'I'd rather not wake up Mrs. Black and the whole house if we don't have to.'

'Agreed,' said Hermione at once, and the three of them exited the boys' room and went out into the corridor.

'Should we split up, d'you think?' Harry suggested.

'Good idea,' said Ron. 'I'll take the third floor and the attic. Hermione, you keep to this floor. Harry--'

'I'll do downstairs and the kitchen,' Harry said at once.

'If anything happens, make noise and wake up Mrs. Black,' said Ron, looking at Hermione with concern. 'Unless...you want me to stay with you, Hermione...'

'No, we'll cover ground more quickly if we all split up,' said Hermione firmly, giving Ron a look. He nodded.

'I'm off, then,' he said, starting down the corridor toward the stairs leading to the third floor.

'See you, soon,' said Harry to Hermione. 'Be careful.'

'You, too,' said Hermione, looking nervous but determined.

Harry hurried quickly down the corridor, careful to keep his footsteps light along the creaking floor. His scar was still burning dully but with the adrenaline flowing through him now, he hardly noticed the pain.

He reached the first floor landing. 

'_Lumos_,' he whispered, and his wand tip glowed. He quickly scanned the foyer, the parlor, and the great room, his eyes skipping over dark corners, but he found nothing. His ears strained for any and all sounds.

And then he heard it. A low hum that rose and fell. Like a voice. It was wafting up from the staircase leading down to the kitchen.

Harry raced to the stairs, his bare feet hardly touching the floor; he moved carefully past the curtains covering the Black family portraits and came to the door to the kitchen steps. It was shut.

He tried the doorknob and it opened with a soft click; he padded quietly down the stairs and the voice became louder.

No, the voices.

Harry came to the kitchen door and pressed his ear to it, at that moment wishing for Extendable Ears. But almost once, he could make out the two voices. One male, one female.

Draco Malfoy, and Ginny Weasley.

'Leave me alone, Draco.' Ginny's voice was steely and furious.

'I can't,' said Draco, and his voice sent a chill down Harry's spine. It was cold, but also...needy. 'Don't you get it, Weasley? I need--'

'I'm not doing it!' Ginny snapped. 'I never should have the first time, they warned me about--'

'Ginny, please,' said Draco harshly, and now he sounded almost desperate. 'I can't stand it. You have to help me!'

'I said no!' said Ginny furiously, and Harry heard the faint brush of her footsteps on the kitchen floor as she started to move. But then there were other footsteps, faster ones, and Ginny let out a yelp.

'Let go of me!'

'I can't do that, Ginny,' said Draco, and his voice changed yet again. Still a note of desperation, but also of finality. 'You have something that I need, and you're not leaving until I get it.'

Harry felt his stomach swoop. He reached for the doorknob and tried to turn it; it wouldn't budge. The door was locked. Harry pointed his wand at the doorknob.

'_Alohomora!'_ he whispered. Nothing happened.

'Don't,' Ginny said, and now her voice was pleading, and scared. 'Draco, please...stop!'

Harry tried another Unlocking Charm. It didn't work. He was starting to panic. Maybe he should raise the alarm.

'Hold still!' Draco yelled, and Harry heard them struggling.

'You're hurting me!' Ginny pleaded.

_Dear god. Ginny..._

There was no time to run upstairs and fetch help. Draco was about to rape Ginny. Fury rushed through Harry's blood and before he really knew what he was doing he flung himself with all his strength against the kitchen door. He didn't feel any pain as his shoulder slammed into the hardwood and the door flew open.

Harry stumbled just in time to see Draco gripping Ginny tightly against him; one of his arms was round her waist, pinning her right arm to her side and holding her still; he clutched her wand. Draco's other hand clutched Ginny's wrist and had her hand pressed to the side of his face. He whipped his head round at the disturbance, and Ginny acted. Her frightened face became a mask of fury as she brought her knee up, slamming Malfoy so hard in the groin that even Harry winced as Malfoy gave a kind of agonized wheeze and he let go of her and his knees buckled. But Ginny didn't stop there; she pushed Malfoy away from her and brought her right fist back, only to swing it round and slam Malfoy hard in the nose, knocking him off his feet. Ginny's wand flew out of his hand.

Harry blinked and recovered himself and stormed over to the crumpled form of Draco Malfoy, who was coughing now, his nose bleeding; he looked like he wanted to throw up. Harry yanked Draco up by his t-shirt and dragged him away from Ginny before slamming him soundly against the wall. 

'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' he snarled, pointing his wand at Draco's throat.

'Fuck...you...Potter...' Malfoy gasped. Harry slammed him against the wall again, harder, leaving a dent. Draco groaned and his head lolled to one side.

'You touch her again and I'll hurt you,' he growled. 'Badly.'

'I wasn't...hurting her,' Draco gasped, as he looked at Ginny. 'Ginny...'

Harry's fist buried itself in the other Malfoy's stomach. Malfoy gasped and coughed and doubled over, but Harry yanked him up again as Ginny bent to retrieve her wand.

'That's not what I heard, you sick bastard,' he growled, and he raised his wand, fully prepared to hex the blond boy within an inch of his life.

At that moment, Ron and Hermione burst into the kitchen. Harry turned to see Ginny give a sob and Hermione rush to her and take the other girl in her arms; Ron's face went red with fury as his eyes fell on Draco.

'You fucking bastard...' Ron growled, and in two strides he was in Draco's face, yanking him out of Harry's grasp and lifting him off the ground by the collar of his t-shirt.

'Ron!' Hermione hissed.

'What the fuck were you doing to my sister?' Ron snarled, squeezing the other boy by the throat. Draco began to wheeze.

'Ron, let him down!' Hermione pleaded. 

'Ron...' Harry said nervously, his own fury receding just slightly. It was one thing to hex Draco. It was another thing to actually kill him, but Ron's fury was absolute, and terrifying.

'Ron, don't!' Ginny cried, pulling herself from Hermione's embrace. 'I'm fine! I swear.'

'Ron!' Harry snapped, and Ron grunted and let go of Draco roughly; the other boy fell to the floor in a heap. He gave a groan and passed out.

'Somebody had better tell me what the hell is going on,' Ron rasped, clenching his fists. Harry gulped. Ron wasn't given to displays of temper all that often anymore, but when it did happen, it was a job talking him down from it.

_Damn Weasley temper. Or is it just a redhead thing?_

'Ron, calm down!' Hermione hissed.

'Don't tell me to calm down!' Ron retorted. 

'Ron, please!' Ginny begged. 'You're not helping!'

Ron started to protest, but at that moment Ginny crossed the room and grabbed her older brother's arm with her small hand.

'Calm down,' she said slowly, in a very firm voice, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Ron gaped at her for a moment and shuddered slightly, but the fury in his face relaxed a bit, as did the tension in his shoulders. Ginny bit her lip and looked, for a moment, to be in pain, no, as if she were furious, but then she let go of Ron and her face, too, relaxed.

Harry watched all this in awe.

'Are you going to listen to me?' she asked, gazing steadily at her brother.

'What did you just do?' Ron whispered.

'Ginny...' Hermione breathed, and it was she alone, among the four of them, that seemed to have some idea of what had just happened.

Naturally, Harry thought.

'I calmed you down,' said Ginny evenly. 

'Yeah, I noticed,' said Ron. 'But how?'

'Ginny, are you--' Hermione began.

'Yes,' said Ginny, and then she shook her head. 'It's complicated.'

'I'll say,' said Ron. 'D'you mind explaining what you're talking about, or are you going to keep using this girl code of yours?'

'Ron, honestly,' said Hermione, shaking her head.

'I can't tell you,' said Ginny firmly.

'You just told Hermione!' Ron protested.

'I didn't, she figured it out on her own,' said Ginny pointedly.

'Oh, sure, split hairs, why don't you?' said Ron, throwing up his hands. 'Ginny--'

'I can't tell you, Ron,' she said firmly. 'Dumbledore asked me to keep it quiet, and I'm going to honor that. I'm sorry.'

'Fine,' said Ron, folding his arms across his chest. 'I'll just ask Hermione.'

'I'm not telling you, Ron!' said Hermione quickly. 'Not if Dumbledore wants it to be a secret!'

'Hermione!' said Ron angrily.

'Ron, she's right,' said Ginny. 'Look, this isn't fun for me, okay? I don't like keeping secrets from my friends.'

'Ginny,' said Ron, clearly struggling to stay calm, 'you're my sister, okay. And...I love you and you're...you're starting to scare me a bit here. Can't you...PLEASE just tell me?'

She looked at him sadly, then at Harry, who was still trying to figure out just what was going on. Ginny clearly had some kind of power, a power that didn't require the use of a wand, a power that she could use simply by touching somebody else. But what was it?

'I can't,' said Ginny. 

Ron gave a frustrated snort and threw up his hands again.

'Ginny...' Harry began.

'Look,' Ginny said quickly. 'I can't tell you but...that doesn't mean you can't figure it out on your own. Without,' she added quickly, when Ron and Harry looked at Hermione, 'Hermione's help.'

'Oh, well, that's good,' Ron said sarcastically. 

'You can do it, Ron,' said Ginny. 'You just have to exercise your brain a bit.'

'Ha ha,' said Ron, sounding disgruntled, but also resigned. Then he looked very serious. 'Gin, just...please tell me you're okay and that Malfoy didn't hurt you because if he did--'

'He didn't,' Ginny said quickly, and she shot Harry a pointed look when he started to protest. 

'If I catch him bothering you again,' said Ron, 'I'm not kidding, Gin. I'll hurt him.'

'Ron,' Hermione groaned.

'Or I'll tell Dad,' Ron said quickly. 

'You don't have to do that,' said Ginny. 'He won't bother me anymore.'

_Well, she's probably got that right. Poor bastard won't be able to walk tomorrow, at least._

Ron eyed her sceptically for a moment, and then nodded. 'Okay,' he said. Then he let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. 'I'm knackered. Let's turn in, okay?'

'Yes, let's,' said Hermione, yawning.

'I'm going to have a cup of tea,' said Ginny. 'That's what I doing when Malfoy interrupted me. Stupid prat.'

'What about Malfoy?' said Harry, looking over at Malfoy's crumpled form on the floor. The blond boy groaned and rolled onto his back, clutching his groin.

'We could lock him in Kreacher's old pantry,' Ron suggested.

'Ron,' said Hermione.

'Fine, we'll take him upstairs,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. 'Harry, a hand?'

He glanced at Ginny, who looked at Malfoy and then back at the teapot she was filling with herbs.

'I'll have a cup of tea with Ginny,' Harry said, not wanting to leave her alone.

Ron cast glances at Harry and Ginny, looking at them with narrowed eyes, and then shrugged. 'Suit yourselves,' he said. He pointed his wand at Malfoy and said _'Mobilicorpus.'_ Draco's prone body was levitated off the ground and came to float in a standing position. Draco groaned again.

'Wake up, arsehole,' said Ron (Hermione rolled her eyes). 'Time for bed.'

'Fuck...you...Weasley...' Malfoy grunted, and then he groaned again and his hands moved to his crotch. His nose was now coated and crusted in dried blood.

'Jesus, Harry, what'd you do to him?' Ron asked. 

'That wasn't me, mate,' said Harry. 'That was Ginny.'

'No kidding?' said Ron, grinning. 'Crotch and nose?'

'Just like you taught me,' said Ginny, smiling archly at him.

'Well, at least I'm good for something,' Ron said, shrugging.

'You've never taught me how to fight,' said Hermione indignantly.

'You never said you wanted to learn,' Ron said. 'I'll teach you if you want.'

'Tomorrow,' said Hermione. 'Come on.'

The two of them exchanged a look, and in the next moment, Ron, Hermione, and a very beat up Draco Malfoy were heading out of the kitchen and back upstairs.

'I've got a Galleon says Ron and Hermione dump Draco in your room and go screw around in mine,' said Ginny, as she turned on the burner for the tea kettle.

'Let's take our time, then, shall we?' said Harry, screwing up his face.

'Is it just me or are those two like rabbits?' said Ginny, shaking her head.

'It's not just you,' said Harry. 'When I woke Ron up to go looking for Draco, he was talking in his sleep again. And it wasn't about Potions, either.'

'Eww, Harry, that's my brother,' said Ginny, shuddering.

'Sorry,' said Harry. She smiled and turned back to the cabinet to fetch mugs; she pulled out two and set them down, and Harry suddenly noticed her trembling.

'Ginny,' Harry said. 'Hey.' He felt his feet move toward her and he put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him; her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

'Thanks,' she said weakly. 'For...for rescuing me again.'

Harry blushed. 'I didn't do too much,' he said, looking down. 

'Yeah, you did,' said Ginny. 'You distracted him.' A tear slipped down her cheek.

_Quick! Say something to cheer her up._

_That's right, can't have another female crying all over you, Potter._

_No, I just...it hurts to see her cry, okay?_

'Yeah, well,' said Harry, 'either way Malfoy's going to be limping tomorrow.'

She laughed and gave a hearty sniff, then moved to wipe her face and winced and grabbed her right hand, the knuckles of which Harry noticed were swollen and bleeding.

'Let me see,' said Harry, taking her hand in his. 'Pretty good right hook you've got, too. You learned that--

'From Ron, yeah,' said Ginny, sniffing again. 'He never mentioned the part where it hurts to punch someone, though.'

Harry grinned and turn on the tap. 'You should clean that up. Don't want to get infected with Malfoy germs.'

'Perish the thought,' said Ginny, giving a wry grin as she stuck her hand under the cool water. She winced again.

'Stings,' she muttered. 'The way it's swelling my hand'll be bigger than Ron's by tomorrow. Do you know a good Healing Charm?'

'I'll get some ice for that,' said Harry. 'I'm shite with Healing Charms.'

He fetched some ice from the icebox and wrapped a handful in a clean dishtowel, then returned to her and pressed it lightly against her knuckles.

'Ow,' she whimpered, but she let him apply the ice, and for a long moment they were silent as Harry pressed the compress to her swollen hand. 

'Are you okay?' he asked, his voice low and serious. 

'I will be,' said Ginny, shrugging.

'Ginny, can I ask you something?' Harry said tentatively.

'Maybe,' she said, smiling sadly.

'I know you can't tell us about...well, whatever it is that you can do,' said Harry. 'But...is that why Malfoy came after you tonight? Because of...whatever it is that you have?'

'Yeah,' said Ginny, and her voice shook slightly. 

Harry watched her carefully for a moment. 'You take people's pain away,' he said. 'When you touch them.'

Ginny said nothing, but Harry knew he was right, and he pressed on. 'But when you do it,' he said, 'it...it hurts you somehow. That's why...that's why you struggled with Malfoy.'

After a long moment, Ginny nodded, and then her shoulders began to shake; she was crying.

'Ginny,' said Harry, feeling at a loss. He put his hands on her shoulders.

'I'm so stupid,' she whispered miserably. 'That bastard got my wand. I left my wand on my bed and he must have taken it. I can't believe I was so stupid--'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry at once. 'You're not going to blame yourself for what that arsehole did--'

'I should know better,' Ginny protested, shaking her head. 'He never bugs me unless he knows I don't have my wand--'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry, something horrible dawning on him. 'Are you saying this isn't the first time he's hassled you?'

Ginny bit her lip, looking as though she hadn't meant to let that fact slip out.

'Ginny,' said Harry firmly.

'It's only been a few times,' she finally said.

'How long has this been going on?' Harry demanded.

'Since last year,' said Ginny, sounding tired. 'Like I said, it was only a couple of times, okay? He...he approached me in the library once and pulled me into a corner in the back and...and tried stuff. I didn't have my wand but I got away because I managed to knock a few books over and brought Madam Pince running. And...there was this one time, after a Quidditch match. He tried to corner me in the tent--'

'And you haven't said anything?' said Harry, incredulous. 

'I thought I could handle it, okay?' said Ginny hotly. 'And I was handling it. After that second time I took my wand everywhere and I was careful never to let myself go around alone. Only tonight I...I forgot...I wouldn't have forgotten if I hadn't had that stupid nightmare...'

'Nightmare?' said Harry, his heart sinking. 'You had a nightmare about Riddle again.'

'Yeah, about--' Ginny stopped and looked at him, and her shoulders sagged a bit. 'Your scar hurt again, didn't it?'

'I dreamt about Voldemort,' said Harry. 'I...I was Voldemort. I was inside his body again. I saw Lucius Malfoy come back, he was with that Rosier woman.'

'Did you tell Ron and Hermione?' Ginny asked.

'Not yet,' said Harry. 'I...I saw Draco's bed was empty and we went looking for him and that's when I found you. I...it didn't even occur to me that you could have had another nightmare. That's three times, Gin. What does it mean?'

'I dunno,' she whispered. 'Some summer this has been. Some birthday you're having.'

'It's after midnight,' said Harry, shrugging. 'My birthday's over.'

Ginny's eyes filled with tears again. 

'Hey,' said Harry.

She shook her head. 'I just...when Malfoy was grabbing me, and he had my wand...it was just like Tom all over again...I had no control at all, it was him taking over and...and making me do things...'

Her voice trailed off and she began to cry softly. He did the only thing he really knew to do, and pulled her into an embrace. She cried for a while, and he let her; maybe now he'd finally figured how to deal with a crying girl. Just let her do it for a while, until she gets it out of her system.

After a while, Ginny's sobs subsided. She pulled back slightly and looked up at Harry.

'I'm sorry I keep crying all over you,' she said, blushing. 'I'm not usually such a mess.'

'We're all a bit of a mess. Don't worry about it,' said Harry. 'Are you...going to be okay?'

'Eventually,' said Ginny. 'I just...I don't ever want to be in that place again, you know? Where someone else is controlling my will. You know what I mean?'

'Yeah, I do,' said Harry. 

She gazed up at him. 'Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?'

Harry swallowed; he was suddenly looking into her eyes, which were dark in the dimly lit kitchen. Dark and soft. And he suddenly noticed she was standing very close to him, and that his hands were still on her shoulders. She smelled of vanilla and her hair was tangled and flowing over her shoulders, brushing his fingers, and it was so very soft. In his peripheral vision he saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed.__

_Oh, bugger. This is not good. Why is she looking at you like that?  Let go of her shoulders, you idiot! Oh, god, those breasts are magnificent...stop LOOKING at them!_

He started to lower his hands from her shoulders, but then she did something that made all the blood in his body race south. She slid her hands up his chest and placed them on either side of his face.

'Ginny,' he said, swallowing hard again. She was lifting her head up, gazing at his lips.

_What are you DOING?_

_What is SHE doing?_

Harry was lost. His head suddenly seemed to weigh a hundred pounds as he tilted forward, his lips seeking hers. He could feel her breath on him as she grew closer. Her lips were an inch away...

At that moment a loud whistling broke the silence and Harry and Ginny jerked apart. It was the teakettle.

'Tea,' Harry choked.

'Right,' said Ginny. Her face was flushed and she quickly turned off the burner. She set about making tea, and they drank it in the quiet of the kitchen, without talking much. There was a frisson of nervousness between them now, and Harry hated it, but at the same time, he was terrified to say anything. 

_You almost kissed her. She almost kissed you._

And then he felt her take his hand in hers and lace her fingers with his. The same way she'd done in the kitchen at the Burrow. He looked at her and something passed between them. Something comforting. Was she doing...that? Using her power, whatever it was, to make him feel better? Except that there was no telltale sign of distress on her face. He only knew that he felt better. And more confused.

A little while later they headed back upstairs, both of them yawning tiredly. Harry walked Ginny to her door and she opened it slowly, peeking her head inside; Ron was not there, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned to Harry and kissed him softly on the cheek, and went quickly inside her room. Harry stood outside her door for a good several minutes afterward, thoroughly perplexed.

_Ginny is my friend. A good friend. _

_You almost kissed her._

_I'm lonely and horny, remember?_

_True. But is that the only reason?_

_I DON'T KNOW! I like her. She's really cool. She's...well, bloody hell, she's beautiful, isn't she? How did I not notice that before? _

_You were with Susan before._

_Ah ha! See? There. I'm not with Susan anymore, so I'm noticing other girls again. It IS the lonely horny thing. _

_If that's all it is, why do you want to be around her for more than just a snog?_

_Because we're friends! Bloody hell, shut up, already! I'm tired!_

Harry returned to his room, in a daze. He opened the door to find Ron sprawled out in bed again. Draco was on his cot, curled up in a fetal position. 

Harry sat down heavily on his bed and took off his glasses and lay back on the bed. 

'Hey.'

Harry started and whirled round to see the form of Ron propped up on his elbows. Harry was immediately grateful for the darkness that hid his rapidly reddening face.

'Hey,' he managed.

'Ginny okay?' Ron asked.

'Yeah, she's fine,' said Harry. 

_She cried on my shoulder and tried to kiss me, but otherwise she's fine._

'She didn't freak out or anything?' said Ron. 'She wasn't upset?'

'She was upset,' said Harry, 'but, uh, we talked and she was fine after that.'

'You talked,' said Ron. 'What'd you talk about?'

'Nothing,' said Harry at once, and then he felt his mouth still talking even as his brain tried to catch up. 'Well, obviously we didn't talk about nothing. We talked about, uh, what had just happened and...she hurt her hand a bit punching Malfoy and I got her some ice...I'm no good with Healing Charms...and we had tea and that was it. Nothing more than that.'

Ron said nothing for a long moment, but Harry could feel his best mate's eyes on him.

'Right,' Ron finally said. 'Well, g'night.'

'G'night,' Harry said, and in the darkness he saw the long form of Ron lie back on his bed and turn over on his side. Harry lay down slowly on his own bed, his heart pounding. It wasn't until he heard steady breathing from Ron's bed that Harry felt himself relax a bit.

_Close one. Good thing it's dark or Ron would have known you were bullshitting him._

_I can't believe she tried to kiss me._

_You tried to kiss her, too, don't forget._

He heard a whimper from Draco's bed and felt a scowl cross his own face.

The way that prat had gone after Ginny, trying to force her to use her special powers, whatever the hell they were, to help him. When doing so hurt Ginny.

Harry was just lying back on his bed when something clunked in his brain. He glared over at Draco's bed again as he remembered that Ginny had told him Draco had gone after her a few times before, last year.

For the same reason he'd gone after her tonight. To force her to use her power, to force her to help him. How long, then, had Ginny had this special ability? If it was so vital, according to Dumbledore, that her ability be kept a secret, how on earth had Draco found out about it? And why had he kept it a secret, even when he was working with the Death Eaters? Why hadn't he said something when they were all at the Riddle House, before his father turned on him?

Harry glanced over at Draco, who whimpered again softly in his sleep. The questions swirling in Harry's mind continued their buzzing even as he let sleep mercifully take him. The last thing he remembered was that he had never figured out if that loud crack he'd heard earlier, the sound that had awakened had been real, or part of his dream.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Apparition Training

**A/N: Be warned that this chapter contains some particularly nasty language.**

_Chapter Thirteen: Apparition Training_

_He was in a forest. No, he was in THE __Forest__. The Forbidden __Forest__. It was daylight, and beams of sunlight streamed weakly through the thick cover of leaves, casting misshapen shadows on the ground. _

_Ron blinked. How had he gotten here?_

I'm dreaming.

_He reached inside his robes for his wand, except that he wasn't wearing robes. He was wearing a tunic and leather pants and heavy boots. His hands were clad in rough, thick gloves._

What the HELL am I wearing?

_'Hello.' _

_Ron whirled round at the sound of the voice, his wand up. He came face to face with a man. Ron guessed the man was no older than thirty five; he had brown hair that fell to his shoulders and green eyes, and he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt._

_Not just any jeans and a t-shirt. Ron's jeans, and his favorite Chudley Cannons shirt._

_'What the--' Ron spluttered. 'Who are you? What's going on?'_

_'Don't be afraid,' the man said. His voice was deep and smooth, with a note of amusement. 'I have to give you something.'_

_Ron narrowed his eyes at the man. 'How about giving me back my shirt, for a start? That's my favorite--'_

_'What I have is far more important than a shirt,' said the man, and he closed his eyes and stretched his hands out. Ron took a step back, brandishing his wand. _

_But the man didn't move, and suddenly there was light, emanating from his hands, shifting, glittering light that became so bright it had Ron squinting. And then there was a flash, as bright as any Ron had ever seen, so bright that he cried out in pain as his eyes burned; he closed them against the awful brightness but still it penetrated his eyelids._

_And then, as quickly as it had come, the light vanished. Ron opened his eyes; they stung and he blinked back tears that blurred his vision. The man was gone. Lying on the ground was a sword with a silver blade that gleamed in the weak light that filtered through the trees of the forest. Along the blade were etched letters that read 'Godric Gryffindor.'_

_Ron blinked again and bent down, his hand hovering over the golden, ruby-encrusted hilt of the sword. He wanted to touch it; he had to touch it. As he reached down to pick up the sword he noticed that the gloves on his hands were gone. The sword was humming, vibrating with power and light, beckoning him to take it._

_He wrapped his large hand round the hilt of the sword, and in the next instant a sharp, searing pain shot up his arm. Pain so acute, pain so awful, that he heard himself scream. He tried to drop the sword, but the hilt had fused to his hand, and it was killing him..._

_'Ron!'_

_Through the haze of pain Ron looked up and saw Harry running at him, wand outstretched. Ron felt the sword wrench from his grasp and go flying in the air..._

Ron sat up sharply, grunting. He was in bed. Nowhere near the Forbidden Forest. Harry was sleeping in the bed nearby, and on a cot across the room...

Malfoy. Ron scowled. He'd brought the little ferret back to their room the night before; the blond boy had had a face full of blood and looked faintly green. No doubt from the nasty blow he'd taken to the groin, courtesy of Ginny. 

Now there was no trace of injury to Draco's face; Hermione had insisted Ron heal the other boy, to avoid 'difficult questions' the following day. Ron had done a Healing Charm on Draco's nose and had cleaned off the blood from his face, but he extended no such courtesy to Draco's wounded nether regions.

'Prat deserves to have a reminder of Ginny, after what he tried to do,' Ron had growled. Hermione, for once, had not argued.

Ron shook his head and remembered why he'd woken up in the first place. A dream. About the sword. Again. And the green eyed man.

Ron pulled out his dream diary and set to writing; this was definitely one to discuss with Hermione and the others when they were awake and away from Draco. Ron read over what he'd written and scratched his head in confusion. Why had the green eyed man given him the sword if Ron couldn't pick it up without experiencing excrutiating pain? Was it some sort of sick joke? Was the sword evil?

And yet it couldn't be, could it? It was the sword of Gryffindor; Ron had seen the letters etched along the blade. Harry had used the sword to kill the Basilisk.

Ron remembered something Hermione had suggested before: that Harry could be the Heir of Gryffindor. Perhaps only the Heir could handle the sword.

_Gloves! I had gloves on at first--I was wearing some medieval get-up and he had on my t-shirt--bloody hell, what does THAT mean--and when I grabbed the sword I didn't have my gloves on anymore. Maybe one could only handle the sword if one wore gloves._

_Harry didn't wear gloves when he used the sword._

_Maybe that's because he's the Heir of Gryffindor, and doesn't have to._

Ron sighed, put the dream diary on the nightstand, and flopped back onto his bed. He had rather hoped that after the quiet shag he'd shared with Hermione last night that his dreams would be sweet and pleasant. Instead they were jumbled and confused.

And then there was Ginny, and whatever was going on with her. She had some kind of power, that was certain. But what was it? Ron had tried to convince Hermione to tell him, but she hadn't budged.

Harry had come back right as Ron was climbing into bed; he'd said very little and looked nervous for some reason. When Ron had asked after Ginny, Harry's blush penetrated the relative darkness of the bedroom.

_Something is going on with them._

_Would it be so bad if there were?_

Ron considered. He'd long had a desire to see Harry fall for his sister, if only because Harry was the only person Ron trusted to give Ginny the respect she deserved. He was the only guy good enough for her. But on the other hand...

_He's the Boy Who Lived. He has to kill or be killed by Voldemort. Ginny's already been a victim of that maniac. Voldemort might go after her again. He could use her to get to Harry..._

Ron closed his eyes and pushed that awful thought down. It was bad enough they were all stuck here at Grimmauld Place with Draco Bloody Malfoy without thinking about Voldemort.

Ron cast another glance at Draco and scowled.

As if sensing Ron's glare, Draco stirred and opened his eyes, and gave a low, pained groan. He turned on his side and put his hands between his legs, clutching at the part of him that was sore.

'Shite,' Draco groaned, sitting up tentatively.

'Good morning, Ratboy,' Ron said dryly.

Draco flipped Ron a rude gesture and started to get up, and then groaned and sat back down, his hands on his crotch.

'Feeling all right?' said Ron, grinning and propping himself up on his elbows. His sympathy at Draco's pain only went so far.

'Eat shit, Weasley,' Draco hissed, and he got up again and started to hobble to the loo when his eyes narrowed. 'What's that?'

'What's what?' Ron asked, annoyed.

And Draco began to laugh. 'Is that what I think it is, Weasley?' he drawled, his voice nearly at its normal level of arrogance, but for a small hiss of pain. 'Are you keeping a diary?'

Ron felt his ears redden and he snatched the diary from the nightstand and shoved it under his pillow. 'Piss off, Malfoy. It's none of your business.'

Draco continued to laugh derisively. 'Is Widdle Weasley telling his diary his deepest darkest secrets? I can just see it. "Dear Diary, every time I wank I think of Harry and wish he was doing it to me.'"

'Shut up, Malfoy,' Ron growled, feeling his temper flare.

'"Dear Diary,"' Draco went on, in a mocking sort of voice, '"Mum tried to buy me some new robes but she ran out of money and had to go begging in the streets. Maybe if Dad wasn't such a loser we wouldn't be so poor.'"

Ron clenched his fists. 'At least my dad wants me around,' he snarled.

_Bullseye._

Draco's right eye twitched and his mouth went thin. There was a flash of hurt in his face, so fast and so subtle as to be almost imperceptible. But it was there all the same.

'"Dear Diary,"' said Draco, his voice now tight with anger, '"sometimes I wonder if my dick is going to rot from sticking it in the Mudblood--"'

Ron was up and across the room in a flash; in the next instant he slammed Draco in the wall.

'Say that again, Ratboy,' he growled. 

'Fuck you, Weasley,' Draco gasped. 

'Oi, can't a guy sleep around here?' said a third, irritated voice. Ron turned to see Harry climbing out of bed and putting on his glasses. At that moment, Draco squirmed and punched Ron in the stomach, hard.

The blow caught him off guard and his knees buckled, and he let go of Draco; Draco moved away quickly and smiled smugly.

'Not so tough as you think, Weasley,' he sneered.

Ron grunted and stood up, furious with himself for letting Draco punch him. He went to kick him...

'Ron,' said Harry, stepping between them. 'Can we try NOT to start the day off with blood and broken bones?'

'I don't need Weasel's boyfriend to protect me, thanks,' said Draco hotly.

Harry turned to Draco and brandished his wand. 'If you really think I have any interest in protecting you, think again. I'm only trying to prevent Ron from killing you, because if he kills you he'll go to prison, and you're not worth that.'

'Not worth much of anything, from where I'm standing,' Ron snapped. And then he saw it again, that flash of hurt in Draco's eyes.

_Good._

'Ouch, that hurts,' said Draco. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up to his full height, clearly aiming for his usual arrogance of demeanor. 'As fun as this is, I think I'll have a shower.'

He shot hateful looks at Ron and Harry before taking a towel that was folded on a small table next to his bed and stalking into the bathroom.

'Git,' said Harry and Ron together, as Draco closed the bathroom door behind him.

Ron grunted and rubbed his stomach; Draco might be a coward but he threw a pretty good sucker-punch. 

'Sorry 'bout that,' said Harry. 'For distracting you. He didn't hurt you--'

'No, are you kidding?' Ron lied. 'Sorry I woke you.' 

'I heard you two arguing,' said Harry. 'That's why I woke up. You should try to--'

'--be more careful about my diary?' Ron finished. 'Yeah, I reckon so. Shit, that's the last thing I need, Draco knowing about that.'

'Especially considering he knows about...' Harry's voice trailed off, and he flushed slightly and made a point of reassembling his bed linens. 

'Knows about what?' Ron asked sharply.

'Nothing,' said Harry, fluffing his pillow.

'Harry,' said Ron, crossing his arms in front of his chest and fixing him with a pointed look. 'What does Draco know about?'

'Well...'

'Does this have something to do with what you and Ginny talked about last night?' said Ron. 'Because I know you two talked. And whatever you talked about had you acting all weird.'

'I wasn't acting weird,' said Harry, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Ron felt his face pale in response.

'Harry,' he said. 'Did you...did you snog Ginny?'

'What?!' Harry cried. 'What are you on about? Are you mad? Snogging Ginny. Honestly! She's your sister, I wouldn't do that, what makes you think I would do that? No way!'

His protests came out in a rush, punctuated by nervous laughter.

_He's about as rotten a liar as I am._

'Harry,' said Ron slowly.

 'Look, Ron, nothing happened with Ginny. We talked and had tea--' Harry began.

'What'd you talk about?' Ron pressed.

'Nothing!'

'Bullshit,' said Ron, and he advanced on Harry, who was now starting to look a bit scared. Ron bit back the urge to grin.

'Look, we just...talked about Ginny's thing,' said Harry. 'You know, that thing she does, that she did on you last night. The thing Hermione knows about?'

'Oh, that,' said Ron, feeling disgruntled again. 'You have any idea what that's about?'

'No,' said Harry. 'But...look, Ron, if I tell you something, you have to promise not to freak out, okay?'

'Why would I freak out?' said Ron indignantly, rolling his eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes right back. 'Gee, I dunno, that's what you tend to do when I tell you anything that has to do with Malfoy.'

'What about him?' And then Ron felt his spine stiffen. 'He knows something about Ginny, doesn't he? About her...whatever her thing is.'

Harry nodded.

'How long has he known?' Ron hissed, struggling to keep his temper in check.

'For a while,' said Harry. 'Ron, he's been...going after Ginny, trying to make her use her power, whatever it is, on him. I think that's what he was doing when I caught them downstairs.'

'WHAT?!' Ron seethed, clenching his fists. He could feel the veins in his forehead throbbing.

Harry grabbed his arms. 'Ron, calm down or I won't tell you anything else.'

'I'm calm,' Ron lied, feeling his muscles begin to shake with fury. 'I'm perfectly fine.'

'Look, Draco's known about Ginny for a while,' Harry said slowly. 'But he didn't tell anyone, did he? Or at least, not that we know of. Voldemort didn't mention anything about it that night, and whatever Ginny's got, Voldemort would want. And Draco was working with the Death Eaters that whole time, so why didn't he tell his dad or something?'

Ron blanched as he processed what Harry was saying.

'You think...whatever it is Ginny's got...Voldemort will...want it?'

'What do you think?' said Harry, looking at him pointedly.

Ron's shoulders sagged. 'Shit,' he grunted. 'I knew it. I knew that sick bastard would make a try for her again.' He paused and thought of something. 'But...why would Draco want...Ginny's power?'

'You saw what she did, Ron,' said Harry. 'You felt it. Maybe...maybe Draco's got all sorts of issues and he thinks Ginny's the only one who can help him sort through it.'

'Oh, well, that's a relief,' said Ron dryly. 'And here I was just worried he was trying to rape my sister.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later they were finishing up breakfast. Ron and the others had spent some brief moments this morning relating all that had happened in the past twenty four hours, including Ron's, Harry's and Ginny's dreams. Hermione immediately started to jot everything down on The List. Ron and Harry cajoled Ginny, then Hermione, then Ginny again, to reveal her secret, but both girls were adamant: the boys would have to figure it out themselves. In the meantime, Ron ordered Ginny not to wander about the house on her own; Ginny rolled her eyes but agreed.

Draco, for his part, spent the day in silence. He stayed far away from Ginny, which suited Ron just fine. They wrestled with doxies again for a few hours, then took to dusting furniture (the Muggle way, with rags and feather dusters).

At noon Mrs. Weasley brought up a platter of sandwiches, and after lunch, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all went into the parlor to study quietly, leaving Draco alone in the bedroom (Ron took his dream diary with him) to study Potions.

They worked all through the afternoon. Ron hated every minute of it, but he still had nearly a dozen essays to finish before holiday's end. He forced himself to concentrate, and managed to complete a Charms essay, a Transfiguration essay, and a Potions essay when Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the parlor to announce an early dinner.

'Why early?' Harry asked softly, mindful of Mrs. Black's portrait, hanging just outside the door.

'You have your first Apparition training session tonight,' Mrs. Weasley replied.

Ron sighed. He'd forgotten all about that. The events of yesterday, coupled with his dream the night before, had driven the unpleasant task of Apparition training from his mind. That and the frustration of being stuck in this house instead of being at home at the Burrow, where he could play Quidditch with Harry and Ginny and sneak off now and again to be truly alone with Hermione.

They went down to dinner and found Remus Lupin there, sitting diagonally from Draco Malfoy, who was scowling over a plate of roast beef and vegetables. When Lupin announced that Draco would also be participating in that night's Apparition training session--using an old wand of Mr. Weasley's--Ron felt his stomach clench. 

_Great. Watch me splinch myself in front of that prat._

They finished dinner; Mrs. Weasley commandeered Ginny to help with the dishes as Lupin, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco all stood up.

'How are we getting there?' Hermione asked.

'Floo Powder,' said Lupin. 'There's a direct link from this fireplace to one in the Apparition training facility.'

They all double-checked that they had their wands, and one by one they climbed into the fireplace to make the journey to the Ministry of Magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Right,' said Lupin, coming to a halt just outside a large door that read APPARITION TRAINING FACILITY. 'Here you are. Session will take about two hours. I'll fetch you then.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, Ron and Hermione together; Draco Malfoy merely scowled. Ron resisted the urge to smack the blond boy on the back of the head.

'Let's go,' said Harry, and he pushed open the door and led everyone inside.

The room was very large and surrounded by thick, padded walls. In one corner there was a large cart, the side of which read EMERGENCY SPLINCH STATION. Ron shuddered and tried not to think about it; he'd heard plenty of horror stories from Fred and George about splinching.

'Hello,' said a strong male voice. Ron and the others turned to see a tall, well-muscled wizard with sandy brown hair enter the room. He was dressed in Auror robes. The wizard made his way to the center of the room.

'I'm Kenneth Towler,' said the wizard, 'and for the next few weeks I'll be your Apparition instructor. Looks like not everyone's here yet; we're a bit early so I'll wait to call roll until everyone gets here.'

For the next five minutes they waited as several more people filtered into the room, all of them dressed in Muggle clothing. Ron couldn't help but grin when Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan both came in.

'Hi, Harry!' Neville said cheerfully. 'Ron, Hermione.'

'Hey, Neville,' said Ron. 'Seamus.'

'Hey, Neville,' said Harry, smiling. 'Seamus. Good to see you.'

'You, too,' said Neville. 

'How's your summer?' Seamus asked.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances, then looked over at Malfoy, who was sulking in the corner.

'Could be worse,' Harry finally said. 'You?'

Seamus answered first. 'Been working in me da's bait shop. Boring as all hell.'

'Bait shop?' said Ron, confused.

'For fishing,' Hermione whispered.

'How 'bout you, Neville?' Harry asked.

'Not bad,' said Neville. 'Spent some of the holiday with...with Luna, actually.' At this, Neville's cheeks became very pink. Seamus grinned.

'Yeah?' said Ron, biting back a laugh when he saw Hermione flash him a look. 'Where'd you go?'

'Sweden,' said Neville. 'She has some relatives there and her dad was on some expedition to find a...well, I'm not sure what it was--'

'Crumple Horned Snorkack?' Hermione supplied.

'Yeah, that,' said Neville. 'They didn't find any.'

'I wonder why,' Hermione muttered.

'Anyway,' Neville said, 'how about this, eh? I can't believe we're going to learn how to Apparate.'

'Yeah, can't wait,' said Ron grimly. 'With my luck I'll splinch myself all over the place.'

'Ron, don't be silly,' said Hermione, putting a hand on his arm. 'You'll be fine.'

'You can't do any worse than Terry Boot,' said Seamus, lowering his voice.

Harry straightened up. 'What about Terry Boot?' he asked, not bothering to hide the eagerness in his voice.

'I heard he splinched himself and left behind--' Neville began, but then he looked at Hermione and blushed.

'What?' said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips.

Neville bit his lip. 'Uh...maybe...you could tell them, Seamus.'

Seamus grinned again, clearly relishing his role as the bearer of gossip.

'Well,' he said, lowering his voice further, prompting Ron, Hermione and Harry to lean in, 'Lavender told me that Parvati told her that Padma learned from Anthony Goldstein that Terry splinched off his willy.'

Hermione gasped and looked horrified; Ron's hand instinctively flew to his crotch; Neville winced and shook his head; Harry bit back a laugh and pretended to look appalled.

'That's terrible,' he croaked.

Ron shuddered; he couldn't even begin to imagine what he would do if he splinched off his...

_Don't think about it._

'Is Terry okay?' Hermione was asking.

'Yeah,' said Seamus. 'Apparently they can fix you up pretty easily right in the training center. But...well, Anthony told Padma, who told Parvati who told Lavender who told me that Terry went into shock and he ended up having to go to St. Mungo's.'

'They were able to...you know,' said Ron, trying not to feel too light-headed, 'put it back on?'

'Yeah,' said Seamus, 'only apparently, when you splinch off a body part and get fixed back up, the body part stays numb for like, a month.'

'Good,' Harry muttered.

'What?' said Neville.

'Nothing,' said Harry. 'Shame about Terry. Poor bastard.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and rolled their eyes, but Ron himself couldn't help but feel a bit of vindication for Harry all the same.

'Okay, class!' Kenneth Towler called. 'Let's get started. I'm going to call roll in alphabetical order. When I call your name please let me know you're here. Thank you.'

Kenneth had an efficient, authoritative voice that was belied by his very boyish, youthful looks, but he was at least twenty-two.

'Seamus Finnigan,' Kenneth called.

'Here,' said Seamus.

'Hermione Granger,' Kenneth said.

'Here,' said Hermione, a bit primly.

'Daphne Greengrass,' Kenneth called.

'Here,' said a tall, slender girl, very pretty girl with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes.

'Neville Longbottom,' Kenneth said.

'Here,' Neville answered.

'Draco Malfoy.'

'Here,' came Draco's reply. 

'Harry Potter.'

'Here,' said Harry, and Ron noticed he was looking at Daphne Greengrass.

_She's definitely good-looking. But isn't she a Slytherin? Good lord, poor bloke must be desperate._

'Lisa Turpin.'

'Here,' said another girl, a Ravenclaw, Ron remembered. She had dark hair and large, haunted grey eyes. And then Ron remembered that her brother had been an Auror, and he'd died in the battle at Hogwarts last term.

'Ron Weasley,' Kenneth said.

'Here,' Ron answered.

'Blaise Zabini.'

'Here,' said Blaise, a striking, dark haired boy with dark hair and piercing, pale blue eyes. Another Slytherin, Ron remembered. And then he noticed that neither Blaise nor Daphne were standing near Draco.

'Okay, that's everyone,' said Kenneth, and he gestured for everyone to gather round him in a circle. 'Right. First things first: I'm sure you all noticed the Emergency Splinching Station. Typically there are minor incidents of splinching that happen in training sessions and we use that facility for repairs. The Accidental Magical Reversal Squad is too busy to deal with people who leave behind a finger or a toe. But if anyone here splinches himself or herself seriously, don't panic. The Accidental Magical Reversal Squad can sort things out in very short order.

You all know, of course, that Apparating is difficult and many people don't use it at all unless they absolutely have to. But Apparating is a vital skill to have in an emergency, particularly right now. No other mode of magical transportation is as fast or convenient when one needs to get out of a sticky situation in a hurry.

'That said, it is because we often need to Apparate in dangerous situations that Apparating itself becomes more difficult. Apparition requires complete mental focus and perfect wand technique. The absence of either can and does lead to splinching, which can range from the minor to the fatal. Although there have been no recorded deaths in Ministry records from Apparating for the past decade.'

Ron looked round the room and noticed that everyone--except Hermione--looked very nervous all of a sudden.

'Before we begin I'd like to find out how much all of you know so far about the theories and problems that come with Apparating,' Kenneth went on. 'Can anyone here tell me the most common problem with the mental portion of Apparating?'

As expected, Hermione's hand shot up.

'Yes...Miss Granger, right?' said Kenneth.

'Yes,' said Hermione briskly. 'The most common reported problem among people first learning to Apparate is locational inaccuracy. A person Apparates successfully, in the sense that he doesn't splinch himself, but he winds up Apparating to the wrong place. In some cases this can be very problematic. There have been reported cases of people Apparating to a new location only to fall off cliffs or down a flight of stairs because they were unable to properly focus on the location they wished to Apparate to.'

Ron heard Neville gulp audibly.

Kenneth smiled and looked impressed. 'Very good, Miss Granger. You've obviously been studying this subject.'

He turned to the rest of the group. 'Miss Granger is absolutely correct that locational inaccuracy is one of the biggest issues--apart from splinching, of course--that face people who are new to Apparating. The wizard may have perfect wand technique, he might have the mental focus to Apparate without leaving behind a body part or parts, but if he does not have an absolutely crystal clear picture of the place he wishes to Apparate to in mind, he could wind up not only in the wrong place, but a very dangerous place.

'So, obviously, mental focus is vital. What other problems can come up when one is trying to Apparate? What else can get in the way of Apparating successfully?'

Hermione's hand went up again, just before Harry's.

'Mr. Potter?' Kenneth asked.

'Physical injury,' said Harry. 'A physically injured wizard has a much harder time Apparating.'

'Correct,' said Kenneth. 'Can you tell me why?'

Harry flushed slightly. 'Uh...well, Apparating takes a lot of energy.'

'That's true,' said Kenneth. 'But there's something else. Do you know what that is?'

Harry looked down at his shoes. 'No, I don't.'

Hermione's hand was still in the air; Ron smiled and shook his head.

'Miss Granger?'

'Apparating is more difficult to do with a physical injury because of the pain of the injury itself,' said Hermione. 'When the body becomes injured, the brain receives signals from the injured area that manifest as pain, therefore causing the wizard's mental focus to weaken as he struggles with the pain itself. The greater the pain, the more difficult it becomes to Apparate; an injured wizard will not be able to Apparate as far, or could Apparate incorrectly, because of the distraction that pain causes. There've even been a few reported cases of wizards who Apparated in the midst of such excruciating pain that they deliberately left behind the body part that was hurting.'

At this several gasps went up. Ron was liking the idea of Apparating less and less by the second. 

'Good, Miss Granger,' said Kenneth, smiling. 'By and large, then, it is generally not recommended that one Apparate while injured except in cases of the utmost emergency. And let's not forget, too, that distance also plays a part. The greater the distance one Apparates, the harder Apparating becomes. Very skilled wizards and witches can Apparate over very great distances, but to do so requires years of practice. So in case anyone was wondering whether their Apparition licence was contingent upon Apparating to New York and back, I'm happy to report that this is not the case.

'Can anyone tell me the basic mental exercise one must do to prepare for Apparating? Yes, Mr. Zabini?'

'The wizard has to focus entirely on the location he wants to go,' said Blaise, his voice deep and confident. 'The more detailed he imagines the location, the easier it is to Apparate there, and the greater the chance for success. Closing your eyes helps, too.'

'That's right,' said Kenneth. 'Which explains one reason why locational inaccuracy is such a problem. If the wizard simply imagines Apparating to London, there's no telling where in London he'll wind up. Keeping one's eyes open during Apparating allows environmental distractions to occur. Specificity is therefore very important; this also explains why it is nearly always easier to Apparate to a place one is familiar with than a place one doesn't know all that well.

'But enough talking. I want to get everyone started on Apparating. We're going to start very small tonight. The first thing I want to work on is wand technique. Wands out, please.'

At this everyone pulled wands from jacket and jeans pockets. Draco scowled at the wand in his hand, which was very old and beat up. 

'The wand motion is simple, but the trick is accuracy,' said Kenneth. 'You neither wave nor flick the wand, nor do you stab at the air with it. It's rather a combination of all three. Like so.'

He demonstrated a fast, sharp motion with his wand, so fast that the wand tip blurred. 

'Notice my wrist,' he said. 'The flicking action comes from the elbow, not the wrist; the wrist needs to be firm and straight. Also, it's important to have a good grip on the wand handle--the technique is so fast and sharp that any loose fingers means a wand goes flying.'

He demonstrated the wand technique again, then a third time.

'All right, got the idea?' said Kenneth. 'Now it's your turn. Queue up in two lines, give yourselves some room and start working. I'll go round the room and check on your technique. Go.'

At once, the class formed two queues; Ron stood between Hermione and Harry, and in a matter of seconds the room was filled with the sounds of wands whooshing through the air. Neville swung his wand hard and it went flying from his hand, only to smack Draco on the back of the head.

'Ow!' Draco snapped, whirling round. 'Dammit, Longbottom, you clumsy arse--'

'Easy, Mr. Malfoy,' said Kenneth coolly. 

'Sorry,' said Neville, flushing and picking up his wand off the floor.

'See what I mean about a good grip on the wand handle?' said Kenneth. 'You okay, Draco?'

'Yeah,' said Draco sourly. 'I'll have a lump on my head but I don't think I have a concussion or anything.'

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, and rolled their eyes.

_Honestly. Such a bloody baby he is._

The practice continued. Kenneth moved slowly about the room, occasionally stopping someone to correct form or posture; he passed by Ron and muttered 'Good show, Mr. Weasley' before stopping Hermione mid-wave and correcting her wrist movement. She blushed and looked both affronted and embarrassed at the same time.

After another fifteen minutes passed, Kenneth finally called a halt.

'Good,' he said. 'You're all getting it. But that's the easy part. The hard part is the mental part of the exercise. Getting your mind to focus completely on the location you want to your body to go. By the end of this training session all of you should be able to pinpoint an exact location quickly and accurately, but for now, let's start slowly. Can I have a volunteer? Yes, Miss Greengrass?'

The tall blonde girl nodded; if she was nervous, she didn't show it.

'Everyone else step back please,' said Kenneth. 'Miss Greengrass, are you sure you're ready for this?'

'Yes, sir,' she said, and her voice was strong and even.

'All right then,' said Kenneth. 'Nothing too ambitious for now. What I want to see if you Apparate from the place you're standing now, to that corner just over there.'

'Okay,' said Daphne.

'The first thing I want you to do is look at that part of the room, okay?' said Kenneth. 'Take in as many details as you can.'

The entire class watched in silence as Daphne's eyes scanned the corner of the room. Ron followed suit, taking in the padded walls, the lack of furniture, the slightly dusty floor, the dingy ceiling.

'Now, Miss Greengrass,' said Kenneth. 'Can you tell me exactly where you want to end up?'

'In the corner,' said Daphne.

'Be more specific,' said Kenneth. 'If you imagine just Apparating to the corner we'll be pulling you out of the wall padding. Imagine where you want to land.'

Daphne blushed slightly and nodded. 'A few feet away from the wall.'

'Be even more specific.'

Daphne let out a breath. 'Two feet away, equidistant from both walls, standing upright.'

'Very good,' said Kenneth. 'Now close your eyes.' Daphne did so.

'I want to imagine the exact spot you want to be,' said Kenneth. 'Again, as detailed as you can. Do you see where you want to go?'

'Yes,' said Daphne.

'Good,' said Kenneth. 'Now, are you ready?'

Daphne nodded.

'I'm going to count to three,' said Kenneth. 'On three, I want you to do the wand motion. All right?'

'Okay,' said Daphne. She raised her wand arm.

'One...two...THREE!'

Daphne swung her wand forcefully and there was a loud crack that caused everyone else in the room except Kenneth to jump. In the next instant there was another crack, and Daphne re-appeared ten feet away, exactly in the spot she had mentioned. 

And, Ron noticed, entirely in one piece.

The class gasped as one before bursting into applause. All but Malfoy. Daphne looked entirely relieved and pleased with herself.

'Excellently done, Daphne,' said Kenneth, and Ron couldn't help but notice that in addition to looking proud, he also looked relieved. Ron wondered how many people Kenneth had had to "fix" after splinching themselves in lessons.

'Daphne was able to Apparate successfully,' said Kenneth, when the class quieted down again, 'but did you notice how much mental effort it required on her part? That's the biggest challenge with Apparating. Not only the mental discipline itself, but the speed with which one often has to come up with that level of focus. In a controlled setting, in these early stages, you all have the luxury of taking the time to focus your minds. In the real world you won't have that luxury. In an emergency, when Apparating might be your only means of travel--or escape--one has to be able to focus one's mind instantly on a safe place to go.

'Now, can I have another volunteer?'

Hermione's hand shot up.

_______________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Another chapter down. And I apologize to everyone who's been wanting more R/Hr fluff. I wanted to put some in here but it would have made the chapter way too long. As it is, I really want to start speeding things up because I fear I'm going to start boring the heck out of people otherwise. That said, I felt that this chapter was necessary not only for Ron's dream but also for bringing in a few "new" characters: Blaise and Daphne.**

**Second: The word Apparition is used in the British editions of the HP books and at The Lexicon; Apparation is found in the American versions. Since I consider the British versions to be the definitive source, that's what I'm using.**

**Not that this has prevented me from forgetting to use British spellings in some cases. **

**A reader had a question about Kenneth. Kenneth Towler--an actual character in canon--is not to be confused with Richard Bell, a character I made up and called Katie Bell's brother (Richard was one of the victims of the attack at Hogwarts in BoMLF).**

**In the meantime: I am getting a lot of e-mail requests for _A Very Thin Line_. Please, please be patient as I try to sort through them all. I may not get to you for a little while, because life is so busy for me.**

**Many of you are wondering where I am posting my stories. **

**I will be posting my stories at three places: FictionAlley.org; Checkmated.com; and...****drumroll...my very own, newly created website called lavenderfics.com.**

**Please note that this process is going to take a while, on all fronts. Also, I will be posting PG-13 versions of my stories at**** FictionAlley. I**

**I will post 'unedited' R/NC-17 versions--the ones you see here at ff.net currently--at Checkmated.com and at lavenderfics.com.**

**Now, the website itself is in its infancy--I have not even begun to put it together. And I have only started posting at both**** FictionAlley and Checkmated, and both those websites do take some time in posting chapters, because they require proof-reading by mods and beta readers. BUT I promise you'll be able to find the stories there, in their entirety, eventually. I ask only for your patience.**

**In the meantime, keep on**** reviewin'! **


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Ginny's Secret

_Chapter Fourteen: Ginny's Secret_

A little while later that same night, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Draco had gone to bed, his laughter ringing in their ears. Ron sat next to Hermione and Harry sat diagonally across from her. Hermione's head was resting on her arms as she sobbed her eyes out.

'Hermione,' Ron pleaded. 'Come on, it's not that bad.'

'Ron's right,' said Harry at once. 'It was only our first lesson. Not everyone gets it perfect on the first go.'

This was clearly the wrong thing to say; Hermione gave a keening sort of wail and buried her face further in her hands.

Ron and Harry both groaned quietly as Ron quickly tried to soothe his girlfriend by rubbing her back.

'Hermione, please don't do this,' he pleaded. 'It's not that big a deal!'

'How can you say that?' she asked savagely, her voice slightly muffled as she continued to cover her face.

'Because it's not!' Harry insisted. 'Jesus Christ, Hermione, you can't be perfect at everything.'

Hermione wailed again and cried harder.

Ron gave Harry a desperate look; Harry shrugged. He couldn't remember seeing Hermione this upset in a while. And she had come face to face with Voldemort, for pete's sake.

'I...c-can't believe I s-splinched myself!' she sobbed. 'In front of everyone. In front of MALFOY!'

Ron winced and Harry bit his lip. Okay, that was fair cause for at least a bit of humiliation. But still...

'Hermione, you splinched off the tip of your finger,' said Harry. 'At least you didn't leave behind anything vital.'

'I've b-been studying the th-theory all summer!' Hermione sobbed. 'I should have been able to do it! Everyone else did! Malfoy did!'

'Everyone?' said Harry. 'Hermione, hello. Remember Neville? He left a foot behind.'

'You're talking about NEVILLE, Harry!' Hermione snapped. 'How many cauldrons has he melted? Of COURSE he splinched himself!'

'Hermione,' said Ron, and his voice started to sound just a bit annoyed, 'look, everyone knows you're the smartest witch in Hogwarts, okay? One mistake doesn't change that--'

'I'm never going to live this down,' Hermione interrupted, shaking her head. 'Never. You heard Malfoy! And Seamus was sniggering--'

'Malfoy makes fun of everyone and Seamus is...Seamus,' said Ron.

'You're making way too much out of this,' Harry said, hoping his voice sounded placating, but he, too, was starting to think Hermione was, well, overreacting.

'Easy for you to say!' Hermione bit out. 'It wasn't you that screwed up! Or you!' she added, looking angrily at Ron.

At this, Ron let out an exasperated groan. 'So Harry and me are supposed to feel guilty because we got something right on the first try and you didn't?'

Hermione wailed again, but Ron's jaw only set itself more firmly.

'Hermione, enough is enough,' he said, and Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing, because in that moment Ron sounded very much like his mother. 

'You're acting like a child,' he went on. 'You made a mistake. It happens. You're human. It's not the end of the bloody world and nobody thinks worse of you for not being brilliant at every little thing. And before you bring up Malfoy again,' he added, cutting her off as she started to speak, 'don't forget that he's a nasty little ferret who's never, ever liked you, and he's jealous that you always beat him out in lessons, and anything he says doesn't count.'

'But--'

'No buts,' said Ron. 'We have ten more of these bloody lessons and you'll have at least that many chances, if not more, to make everyone else look bad, like you usually do. In the meantime, accept the fact that occasionally, even geniuses screw up. And consider that you're bawling your eyes out over a stupid lesson when there are a lot of things that are a lot more important and worth crying about. Lisa Turpin lost her brother, and so did that Daphne girl, and you didn't see them cracking up over a bloody Apparition lesson.'

Harry stared at Ron. Never in all the years that he'd known his best mate had Harry EVER heard him talk like this.

And yet here Ron was, delivering a lecture to his girlfriend as if he were a stern teacher and she a wayward pupil. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or be impressed.

He settled for the latter. Laughing would undoubtedly set Hermione off again.

Hermione, meanwhile, was gaping at her boyfriend with a mixture of petulance and remorse.

'I...I know there are more important things,' she finally mumbled. 'I just...it's important to me...'

Ron's face softened and he took her hands in his. 'I know it is, love. But...give yourself a break, yeah? You're already miles ahead of us in most stuff. Nobody's going to think badly of you.'

'Except Malfoy,' said Hermione, but her lips were curling into a sheepish smile.

'He doesn't count,' said Harry. 'Remember.'

Hermione wiped her eyes and nodded before looking at Harry, then at Ron.

'You're right,' she said finally. 'I'm being silly. I'm...I'm sorry. I was...wrong.'

Ron's eyes lit up mischievously.

'What?' he said, feigning shock. 'Am I going deaf? Did I just hear Hermione Granger admit that she's...WRONG?'

'Shut up,' Hermione muttered, giving Ron's shoulder a shove.

'No, no, no' said Ron, grinning at Harry, who grinned back, 'Harry and I need to savor this moment, see. It could be years before you're wrong again.'

'Ron!' said Hermione, but now she was blushing and laughing.

'Good point, Ron,' said Harry. 'Maybe we should record this moment for posterity.'

'Harry!' She was laughing harder now.

'Yeah, well, even if you aren't perfect I love you anyway,' said Ron, mussing up her hair. She swatted his hand and he pulled her into a hug.

Harry felt his stomach unclench a bit; Hermione was no longer upset. He watched his two best friends for a moment and felt it again: that pang of envy. He hated himself for being jealous, but he couldn't help it. A part of him had not fully expected Ron and Hermione to be such a strong couple. True, they'd had years of friendship behind them before they'd become a couple, and Harry had known before Ron had that the two of them liked each other beyond friendship. But they were so different in so many ways.

_Different, and yet...they complement each other perfectly, don't they? They balance each other out. They might bicker and disagree, but...they fit. _

Harry smiled when Hermione reached over to hug him, but the pang in his chest still radiated. He loved his two best friends, of that there was no doubt, and yet he knew, more than ever before, that it would never be the same as it had been. Ron and Hermione completed each other in a way that he, Harry, could not possibly compete with. They didn't need him anymore, because they had each other.

'You okay, mate?' Ron said suddenly.

'I'm fine,' Harry lied. 'Just tired. I think I'll turn in.'

He didn't wait to see Ron and Hermione exchange glances; he simply got up and left the kitchen, feeling as though he were stranded on a small boat in the middle of the sea, with no oars to steer him to shore. He felt adrift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks passed quickly. 

During the day, Mrs. Weasley kept them busy with chores, when they weren't slogging through their mountains of homework. Draco had stopped grumbling about lowering himself to housecleaning duties and he had taken to studying in the same room with them--the parlor. Harry wasn't sure just why Draco would want to be anywhere near them at all, but as the blond boy was quiet and didn't bother them, and as Ron mentioned once how he preferred having Draco close by so he could keep an eye on him, nobody commented on Draco's presence during homework time.

Harry didn't know, nor did he much care, where Draco went off to when the rest of them, on their nights off from Apparition training, played chess or Exploding Snap and Hermione read her numerous books.

Apparition lessons occurred four nights a week and were entirely more taxing than Harry could have imagined. The simple act of Apparating ten feet across a single room left him exhausted. How, then, did people like Kenneth Towler or Nymphadora Tonks manage to Apparate across whole cities and jump right into a battle? 

Some Auror I'll make, he thought glumly. Can't even Apparate once without feeling like my knees are going to give out on me.

And yet there was a satisfaction to the lessons all the same. Apparating took the place of Quidditch as Harry's chief form of physical activity, and he found the mental challenges of Apparating to be nearly as therapeutic as flying. 

At night, however, as had been the case with him for years now, Harry brooded. About Voldemort. Harry hadn't had a dream about Voldemort, or a vision, or felt pain in his scar since that night he'd awakened to find Draco gone from the bedroom, in pursuit of Ginny.

None of them--Harry, Ron, Ginny, nor Hermione--had been able to determine with any certainty whether the loud cracking sound Harry had thought he'd heard was real, or simply part of his dream. Harry had attempted Legilimency a few times but found it to be a futile exercise; Voldemort was, for all intents and purposes, in hiding again. This suggested to Harry that Voldemort had WANTED Harry to know that Lucius was not only free, but right back in service with the other Death Eaters. The implications of this left Harry very uneasy; the other times Voldemort had wanted Harry to know something, Harry had rushed into danger and nearly gotten himself and his friends killed. It also meant that Voldemort was strong enough to close himself off from Harry completely. Whatever injury Harry had given him that night at the Riddle House must now be completely healed. 

Then there was Ginny. The two of them had not said a word about the Almost Kiss in the kitchen that night. Harry was itching to ask Ginny about it, but when she behaved as if nothing untoward happened, he found he couldn't bring himself to broach the subject. However much he was attracted to her--and he'd given up on debating with himself whether this was solely due to his lonely/horny status or because he was genuinely attracted to her for HER or a combination of both--he wasn't about to do anything to mess up their friendship. He resigned himself to the fact that when he was close to her his body ignored his mind's entreaties not to respond to her, and he made doubly sure not to let himself stare at her beautiful hair, or her very cute freckles, or her scrumptious breasts.

Beyond this, of course, was Ginny's secret power. She hadn't used it on him since that night they'd had tea in the Burrow, and she'd said nothing about it, but that didn't stop Harry from consulting with Ron and the two of them looking into it. Hermione was no help at all, of course. Among the many thousands of things she was good at, keeping a secret was near the top of the list. Harry and Ron had even debated going to Draco to ask, or to beat it out of him, but they abandoned this idea almost at once. Beating Draco up would only get them in trouble, and Draco would never tell them, anyway. If anything, he would laugh and hold it over their heads that he knew something about Ginny that they did not. Harry couldn't stomach this idea, or the image of Draco laughing at him.

Thus, Harry did the only thing he could think of. One afternoon in mid-August, as everyone else--including Draco--was working on homework while they sat in the parlor, he copied Hermione's idea and started to make a list of the things he knew about Ginny's power.

_1) Works without a wand._

_2) Works by Ginny touching someone. On the forehead? Face? Anywhere?_

Harry quickly scratched out the word 'Anywhere' from the list. 

_You do NOT need to think about her touching you...someone...using her power for..._

_Knock it off, Potter. Do you really want to deal with an erection right now?_

_Snape in a nightie._

Harry shifted in his seat slightly as the discomfort faded and he looked up to see Draco sitting in the corner, his head bent over a piece of parchment. Draco hadn't said a word to anyone all day; when he'd entered to parlor to begin studying, no one had protested, in part because nobody wanted to risk waking up Mrs. Black's portrait. Draco had seated himself quietly--and haughtily--in the far corner on an old salon chair that didn't look remotely comfortable. 

Harry turned back to his list about Ginny.

_3) Seems to 'absorb' bad feelings from person._

_4) Makes physical pain go away (at least in scar)_

_5) Ginny experiences pain (?) or distress when she uses power. _

Harry looked at the short list and considered. Perhaps she had some gift for Healing? It made perfect sense. Except that thus far, Ginny seemed to imply that her powers had more to do with emotions than physical pain. And yet, hadn't she taken away the burning in his scar those few times she'd touched him there?

Harry found himself digging through his schoolbooks for references to Healers, but none of his most-used texts had much to say about them. The Potions textbook and _1,001 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ mentioned Healers only in the context of using potions and herbs to cure and treat illness, injury and disease. Harry pushed aside book after book until he came to the bottom of his stack and found _A History of Magic_.

He smiled to himself. The book still looked relatively new; well, he was about as lazy as Ron when it came to actually reading the book, and in any case Hermione's notes in the class were always so thorough that Harry had never felt any particular urgency about reading Professor Binns' assigned chapters.

Harry opened the book wide, cracking the spine as he did so; the sound was so loud Ron looked up.

'You're actually going to read that?' said Hermione, bemused.

'Yeah, why not?' said Harry loftily. 'We have N.E.W.T.s this year, Hermione. As you're always telling us.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron snorted, but didn't lift his eyes from the Charms homework he was working on.

Harry flipped to the index and looked under 'Healers'; he turned to the appropriate pages and read through them carefully, but it was nothing more than a history of some famous Healers, along with a timeline of the discovery and maturation of the Healing Arts. Harry's eyes locked on a paragraph that discussed Healing without wands, but the book only told Harry that Healers with such ability were very rare, and that their ability to take away physical pain--physical, not emotional--was limited to non-life threatening injuries, surface wounds, and certain types of chronic pain.

Harry was just about to slam the book shut in frustration when he saw a footnote at the bottom of the page:

_'For further information, see Chapter Twenty-One, pp. 325-328: "The Role of Empaths in Healing".'_

Harry felt his blood begin to pound in his ears.

Empaths. He'd heard of them. Or at least, he was pretty sure he'd heard of them. He flipped quickly to the right pages and began to read.

_'The Empath is a very particular type of Healer. Almost all known Empaths throughout history have been women._

_'Empaths are rare. An Empath's power comes from her ability to accurately determine another person's emotions. An Empath can effectively see past the day-to-day façades that people put on; an Empath is especially good at sensing dishonesty._

_'An Empath is incapable of being totally dispassionate; her very nature demands that she feel emotions--her own and those of others--very deeply. An Empath cannot compartmentalize her mind; she cannot separate feeling from thought. Empathic power varies greatly and is entirely innate, not made. All Empaths can perceive and feel emotion in others, but a small number of very powerful Empaths also have Telepathy as well: they can perceive specific memories of others in addition to emotions.'_

Harry blinked and looked up at Ginny, who was in the midst of writing a Potions essay. She reached up to tuck a strand of copper hair behind her ear and seemed to feel his eyes on her; she looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back.

_Ginny's an Empath. _

Or at least, she certainly seemed like one, if the description of an Empath in this particular textbook was accurate. Harry had long known of Ginny's ability to see past the front he himself often put up; she had once jokingly said she had a very good 'bullshit detector.' 

_That's certainly true. You can't put anything past her._

_Ironic, considering how easily SHE can lie when she wants to._

_But what about her power? How is she using her power? Is that an Empath thing?_

Harry turned his eyes back to the book.

_'An Empath will often use her gifts in the Healing Arts, and indeed, the vast majority of Empaths have had careers in the Healing Arts. Whereas a Healer can only treat physical pain, an Empath treats emotional pain. The connection between mind and body in Healing cannot be disputed; a patient who feels stronger and happier emotionally heals faster in body than the patient who suffers from emotional despair or loneliness. The Empath's role in Healing, therefore, is vital, because it helps a person to continue to heal and strengthen themselves long after the immediate danger and pain of the physical injury has been corrected. The Healer and the Empath, then, work side by side to ensure that patients receive the maximum benefits from the Healing Arts._

_'How does, then, an Empath use her power? Like Wandless Healers, the power comes from both touch and mental focus. The Empath lays a hand against the bare flesh of the patient, to establish a physical connection. She then uses her Empathic Powers to connect with the emotions she is sensing and feeling from that patient, and once that connection is made, she draws those feelings from the patient into herself, taking away whatever negative feelings the patient was previously experiencing, and taking them on herself. She then replaces those negative feelings with positive feelings. Such positive feelings can be very general, as would be the case with most Empaths, or they can be associated with specific positive memories of the patient. An Empath with Telepathy can search the patient's mind for various memories; she absorbs the memories and takes the negatives ones on herself while replacing the happy memories back into the mind of the patient._

_'Empaths generally spend years training and honing their powers, although Empathic gifts are typically detectable around the onset of puberty._

_'The gift of Empathy comes with many costs. The first is the mental toll of Empathic powers. Empaths must be trained to manage the overwhelming level of emotion they feel--their own and others'--on a daily basis. Without such training, the Empath risks becoming trapped in emotion; she 'wallows' in emotion so deeply that she runs the risk going mad.'_

Harry swallowed and glanced at Ginny.

_My god..._

He blinked and kept reading.

_'A second risk is the use of Empathic power. The use of Empathic power also creates mental strain and in some cases, physical pain. The absorbing of negative emotions and memories from others takes a daily toll on the mind and body of the Empath. What is ironic is that, in spite of this, nearly all Empaths are innately driven to use their powers as much as possible. Such an inherent drive to use their powers is dangerous; an untrained Empath can overuse her powers and risk mental or physical breakdown. Trained Empaths learn to use their powers carefully and judiciously and resist the urge to overdo, but no Empath can totally escape the pull of using her powers for the benefit of others._

_'The greatest risk to Empaths, however, comes from the abuse of their powers by practitioners of the Dark Arts. It is a well-established fact that an Empath can use her powers 'in reverse': that is, she can use her powers to cause mental and emotional anguish instead of relief, by absorbing all the feelings of a victim but keeping the positive feelings for herself and sending back only the negative ones. Empaths have been used by the Dark forces to torture other enemies and even drive some to suicide. Such behaviour goes against the innately benevolent nature of Empaths, however, so it must be assumed that in such cases as these, the Empaths were forced to use their powers in this way against their will. Empaths are especially vulnerable to the Imperius Curse. An Empath easily succumbs to the seductive powers of the Imperius Curse because it is one way to be relieved of her tremendous responsibility in managing all the emotions she feels. The Imperius Curse removes the burden of the Empath to constantly monitor her mind and her feelings. Under the Imperius Curse, all people report a feeling of bliss and ease; in the Empath, this effect is magnified a hundredfold. There have been no recorded cases of an Empath resisting the Imperius Curse.' _

Harry's heart was pounding so loud now that he looked up to see if anyone else could hear it, but Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all focused entirely on their studies.

Harry swallowed hard. He knew he had found what it was that Ginny was trying to keep secret, and now he understood why Dumbledore had wanted it kept quiet. Harry had understood that Ginny was in danger from Voldemort all along--first, he'd come back as Tom Riddle to possess her. But then in the Riddle House, when he'd threatened her.

Harry shuddered as he remembered Voldemort taunting Ginny, all the while wearing the form of his former sixteen-year-old self. He'd wanted her then for his...amusement. His sick, twisted, perverse amusement.

Harry glanced over at Ginny and felt his stomach twist. All summer he'd noticed how beautiful she'd become. Voldemort had noticed it, too. But if he knew she was an Empath...

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked over at Ron, whose face was screwed up in concentration as he wrote down an answer to his Charms assignment.

_Should I tell Ron about this?_

_Yes, but not now. Wait until we're far away from Mrs. Black's portrait._

Harry blinked again and noticed Draco; the blond boy was no longer focused on his homework. He was gazing at Ginny.

Harry felt his fists clench and bit back the urge to get in Malfoy's ferret face. It wouldn't do to start anything now. 

But then Harry noticed the nature of Malfoy's gaze. It was full of longing, of desperation, of sadness.

And Harry felt another clunking in his brain.

_He's in love with her._

The answer to the question of why Draco had never told his father or Voldemort or anyone else about Ginny's power was right there, written on his pointed, pale face.

_Oh, come ON, this is Malfoy we're talking about here. He hates Weasleys, and if that git has any notion of what being in love feels like I'll sell my Firebolt._

And yet there was no mistaking the look of miserable longing on Draco's face. Harry knew it well; it was the same look he'd worn every time he saw Susan that last week of school, after she'd dumped him. 

Harry wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that Draco was in love with Ginny, or the fact that Harry identified with the other boy for being in love with a girl who didn't want him.

Still...this was Malfoy. And last year his mother was still alive, his father hadn't sold him out to Voldemort yet, and he was still the default king of Slytherin House, and he was actively helping his father and Voldemort in going after Luna and _The Book of Morgan Le Fey_. Draco's world hadn't yet fallen apart; there was no reason to believe he understood what it meant to feel real love, or sympathy, or kindness, and nothing had yet happened to Draco to inspire sympathy for him. What possible reason would 'pre-tragic Draco' have to keep Ginny's power a secret? 

Because Harry didn't believe for a second that Draco would have kept her power a secret simply because he had the hots for her. If anything, he'd have been as likely to spill it to his dad when Ginny rejected him.

_Think about it. Draco is who he is. Maybe he really loves Ginny. But he's always been an opportunist, and he's spent his whole life thinking that whatever he wants, he gets. If Ginny rejected him, he'd have been furious and done something to her. But...what if he knew about her power? What if he made a move and she rejected him, and he threatened to tell her secret to his dad? What if Draco made her...do something for him to keep quiet in return?_

Harry shuddered as this horrible thought filled his mind. He looked at Ginny and felt even sicker to his stomach.

_How can you possibly think Ginny would ever...Look at her. She's beautiful and innocent...Dean dumped her because she wouldn't sleep with him, and she loved that guy. How can you even THINK that she'd willingly go near Malfoy?_

_Because it's possible. Because Draco is exactly the sort to resort to blackmail. _

_But Ginny?_

Harry sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes for a moment, grateful that nobody noticed his growing agitation. He thought about all he knew of Ginny, about the sort of person she was.

He knew she was his friend. He knew she was brave, and capable, and fiercely loyal to him, to her family, to the cause of good. And she hadn't said a word about her power, because Dumbledore had asked her not to. How long had she known she was Empathic?

'..._although Empathic gifts are typically detectable around the onset of puberty.'_

Puberty. It varied from person to person, but if Ginny was like most girls, that meant she would have been aware of her powers most likely between the ages of twelve and fourteen. Harry tried to recall when she had first started changing, from a little girl to a young woman, and realized he couldn't remember, because he hadn't been paying attention to her. Of course he hadn't. He'd only noticed she was a Girl this summer, hadn't he?

So Ginny--and possibly Dumbledore--had known about her powers for a while. And yet, if Ginny were an Empath, wouldn't Dumbledore have insisted on her being trained to deal with her gifts? Otherwise, how could she possibly manage the mental strain of it all? 

_She survived being possessed by Tom Riddle for a year._

_True, but that ended. He's not possessing her anymore. He's there, in her mind and in her dreams sometimes, but he's no longer controlling her. _

_But her Empathy--that's a full time deal, no escaping that. She had to have been trained at some point, by someone. And she's probably still getting trained. The training takes years._

Dumbledore? It seemed bizarre to consider the Dumbledore would know how to train an Empath. Nothing of Dumbledore's history made mention of him being an Empath, and anyway, male Empaths were nearly non-existent. But SOMEBODY had been giving Ginny instruction. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair and bit back a groan as the mystery surrounding Ginny--a girl he thought he'd known reasonably well--only deepened.  

Harry glanced at her again; she was now working on an Herbology assignment and had tied her hair in a careless knot. Then he looked over at Draco, who was gazing at her again. Draco's eyes darted to Harry and he immediately bent over his parchment again as Harry felt his stomach twist once more.

The fact was, Ginny was an accomplished liar. How many times had she deceived people in the past? It was nearly always for a good cause, of course, but if she could keep secrets and tell falsehoods without anyone realizing it, why shouldn't she keep secret the fact that Draco might have been blackmailing her?

If she had agreed to...do something for Draco in exchange for his silence...

_No._

_Draco would never keep his mouth shut out of the goodness of his heart, or because he's in love with her. He doesn't work that way. _

_Maybe she was lying about Draco knowing. Maybe he really is only in love with her and has no clue about--_

_Then why was he doing what he did that night in the kitchen? If he'd wanted to rape her he would have used Imperius or a Total Body Bind, he had her wand. If he'd been trying to rape her, her clothes would have been torn or messed up. But he'd only grabbed her and he was holding her hand...to his face._

_Draco knows, and he must have been blackmailing Ginny in some way. Maybe she...god...what if she..._

_How far would she go to protect her secret? To protect herself? Not that far. To protect someone else?_

_Me._

_Dumbledore knows she's my friend; maybe he told her to keep her power a secret to not just to protect her but to protect me. Voldemort could use her against me. That's why she said she wouldn't tell me, 'for my own good._'

Harry kept his eyes fixed on his parchment as his heart continued to hammer in his head. He could feel, rather than see, Draco's eyes on Ginny. Harry was suddenly more desperate than ever for a fly on his Firebolt, if only to rid himself of the frightening and disturbing thoughts swirling in his head. He didn't even want to begin to imagine what Ginny might have done to buy Draco's silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a week before they were to return to Hogwarts when everyone seemed to notice, at the same time, that Hogwarts' letters hadn't been received yet. Hermione immediately went into a panic.

'If I'm Head Girl--not that I expect it but just on the off-chance--how am I supposed to be prepared with less than a week to go?' she'd wailed. 'And what about class schedules? I need more than a week to choose my N.E.W.T. classes--those classes will decide my future!'

She'd gotten so uptight about it that Ron had kissed her to shut her up. Harry wasn't thrilled to witness that, but he had to admit it was an effective way to distract Hermione from yet another one of her panicked rants.

Draco, for his part, had continued to be mostly silent. The most venom he came up with were dirty looks at Harry and the others. All but Ginny, of course. For her, his looks were a mixture of resentment and longing. It was a measure of the effect of that night in the kitchen, however, that Draco never made any attempt to even speak to her.

Harry had continued to wonder about Ginny and how she'd dealt with Draco last year. None of the possibilities that came into his mind were remotely pleasant, but very quickly Harry came to the conclusion that dwelling on the subject as neither helpful to him, nor really any of his business. Ginny was his friend, but she was not his girlfriend, and if she was willing to go so far to keep her secret and protect him, Harry didn't think he could fairly question her methods. Not with things as they were now. Not with a war going on. Not with what had happened last term, with the attack on Hogwarts, and the battle at the Riddle House. Harry realized, with some sadness, that nobody had the luxury to be innocent anymore.

Harry had taken Ron aside one day and told him about what he'd learned of Ginny, but he'd left out his suspicions regarding Draco. Ron, nonetheless, came to the same conclusions, and for a good hour Harry had to talk Ron out of killing Draco with his bare hands. For the very first time in all the years they'd known each other, Harry was genuinely afraid that Ron might actually do it this time. It took no small amount of persuasion on Harry's part, including a couple of Silencing Charms, to get Ron to agree to keep his mouth shut about everything. The last thing Ginny needed was to get more upset, Harry said, considering all the stuff she's dealing with now. Ron agreed readily with that, but still wanted to kill Draco. Harry got him to back off that threat only by agreeing that they would talk to Ginny--quietly, reasonably, and gently (which meant Harry would do all the talking) sometime in the next week, after Apparition training was finally over for good. In the meantime, Ron watched Draco like a hawk.

Things had been so busy that Harry sometimes forgot he was staying in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. It was only when Order members came by that he was reminded.

There were meetings, of course, but Harry and the others were prevented from participating, much to their displeasure, and Mrs. Weasley had so effectively charmed the kitchen doors against any manner of eavesdropping that they had quickly given up on trying to listen in.

One morning as they'd gone down to breakfast, Professor Snape passed by them. He gave them only the most cursory of nods, but for Draco, upon whom Snape graced with a look of almost fatherly concern.

A couple of times, Harry had also seen Professor McGonagall in the foyer, always wearing Muggle clothes, as she was leaving the house for some reason or other. She looked pale and a bit haggard and moved very stiffly, as though she was sore, and Harry wondered if she was still feeling the effects of her injuries from the battle at school. 

Lupin took them to Apparition training but rarely had time to talk these days; Harry assumed he was doing something or other for the Order but he couldn't imagine what it was. Recruit more werewolves?

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Percy, Bill and the twins were also rarely seen these days. Percy was staying with his girlfriend Penelope at night and spending--according to Mrs. Weasley--inordinate amounts of time at work. Doing what, Harry couldn't imagine. Percy's injury meant that he could hardly be doing anything particularly, physically strenuous. Bill, too, was working very hard and traveling a bit more this summer--Harry assumed he must be continuing his work on recruiting goblins. The only news of Charlie was that he'd relocated to Bulgaria to work with a new species of dragon. When Harry learned of this--also from Mrs. Weasley--something about it bothered him, but he quickly forgot about it in the hectic days leading up to the return to school. 

The twins came by several times, full of jocular self-importance as they paraded down the stairs to meetings. Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes and pretended not to care. Harry knew better. Mr. Weasley was spending, it seemed, every waking moment at work, much to Mrs. Weasley's annoyance, but then Mrs. Weasley was so busy doing who knew what that she was constantly in and out of the house.

The Hogwarts letters arrived on the morning of the last night of Apparition training. The four of them were in the kitchen; Ron was cooking breakfast when Mrs. Weasley came in.

'Hogwarts letters!' she announced happily. 'Draco's got his already, he's upstairs. Ginny, your O.W.L. results are back!'

'Great,' Ginny muttered.

Mrs. Weasley handed out everyone's letters. Hermione took hers, and Harry noticed that her face had gone white, and that she wouldn't open the letter.

'Are you going to open it or just look at it?' he asked. 'You're not afraid you won't get the badge, are you?'

'I'm sure Dumbledore has chosen whoever he thinks is best for Head Boy and Head Girl,' said Hermione primly, but her face was white with fear and she clutched Ron's hand. 

'Will you...open it?'

'Sure thing, love,' said Ron, removing a skillet full of eggs and bacon from the burner. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel before taking her letter and started to tear open the envelope. Hermione immediately crossed to the other side of the room. She was so nervous, apparently, that she didn't even want to look at the contents inside the envelope. 

Ron pulled three pieces of parchment from the envelope and set the envelope down on the table; it landed with a thud, which meant there was a badge inside. A prefect's badge, or the Head Girl badge?

'This here's your book list,' said Ron, reading the first piece of parchment. 'Good lord, Hermione, how many subjects do you need?'

'I'm still not sure what I want to do,' she said, her voice tight with agitation.

'This one's got your school marks,' said Ron. 'O's in everything. What a shocker, that.'

Hermione gave a wave of her hand, and Harry chuckled under his breath. She was so worried about the Head Girl thing that she didn't seem to care that she'd achieved perfect marks in all her subjects. 

'Okay, here's your school letter from Dumbledore,' said Ron, unfolding the third piece of parchment. 

'Read it,' said Hermione at once. 'No, wait, don't read it. I'll read it.'

She started toward Ron, but then stopped. 'No, no, I can't. You read it.'

'Okay,' said Ron slowly, and he started to read.

'Dear Miss Granger--'

'Wait!' said Hermione. 'Let me.'

Ron sighed and held up her letter and she started to take it from him, then she shrank back.

'I can't, you do it,' she said again, looking desperately at Ron.

'Are you sure you want me to read this?' he said.

'Y-yes,' said Hermione.

'Okay,' said Ron. 'Now don't interrupt.'

'Right,' said Hermione; she was now clutching the back of a chair so tightly her knuckles were white.

Ron began to read again.

'Dear Miss Granger, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wishes to congratulate you on entering your seventh and final year--'

'Skip that,' said Hermione at once.

'Okay,' said Ron, rolling his eyes affectionately at her. Harry smirked. Ron's eyes skipped to the next paragraph.

'The final year of your Hogwarts career will be marked with many challenges and you will be called upon to face those challenges--'

'Skip that, too,' said Hermione, wringing her hands.

'Hermione, do you want to read this?' said Ron.

'Yes!' said Hermione. 

'Then would you let me read?' said Ron. 'I told you, stop interrupting.'

'But I don't want to hear about how challenging seventh year is, I KNOW that,' said Hermione irritably. 'Just skip to the end.'

'Fine,' said Ron, shaking his head. He moved his eyes to the bottom of the letter. 'My warmest regards, Albus Dumbledore.'

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.

'What?' said Hermione. 'That's...that's it?'

'You said skip to the end,' said Ron cheekily.

'Oh!' said Hermione, throwing up her hands. 'Just...give me that!' She snatched the letter from him, and Ron and Harry exchanged amused glances.

Hermione's face went even whiter as her eyes moved rapidly over the words in the letter.

'Well?' said Ron.

Hermione looked up and her face broke into a smile. She threw down the letter and grabbed the envelope and pulled out a badge: a very shiny Head Girl badge. She them gave a scream and launched herself at Ron, and he caught her in an embrace.

'I GOT IT!' she yelled, and Ron laughed and picked her up and twirled her around.

'I told you you'd get it!' he yelled.

'Oh...oh...Hermione!' said Mrs. Weasley, quite beside herself. 'Head Girl?'

'Yes!' she gasped, as Ron set her down. 'I can't believe it! I can't believe I got it!'

'Oh, come on, Hermione,' said Harry, grinning. 'Who else was it going to be? Pansy Parkinson?'

'Bite your tongue,' said Hermione, looking momentarily scandalized before she grinned again.

'Congratulations, Hermione,' said Mrs. Weasley happily. 'That's wonderful! Your parents will be so pleased! Ginny, you next.'

Ginny groaned and opened her letter. She didn't bother looking at the booklist, but read over her O.W.L. results and smiled and shrugged.

'Not as bad as I thought,' she said, and she handed the letter to her mother.

'Eight O.W.L.s!' said Mrs. Weasley after a moment. 'And no less than an E to be found. Ginny, I'm very impressed.'

'Ron, Harry, your turns,' said Hermione, her face glowing.

'Oh,' said Ron, and his face fell a bit. 'Do we have to?'

'Ron,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'I want to see those marks of yours. But take your time, I'll put the food on some plates.' And she hustled over to the stove and began dishing out bacon and eggs.

'Right,' said Ron glumly, and he and Harry began to open their envelopes. There wasn't a badge in Harry's, but he didn't really care. The idea of being made a prefect had long ago lost its appeal. And the book list was hardly cause for rejoicing, because it only reminded him of how intense his lessons would be this year. But he was pleased to see that he got strong marks in all his subjects; he'd scraped an E in Potions, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms, an A in Herbology and History, and an O in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

'How'd you do?' Harry asked Ron. 

Before Ron could answer Mrs. Weasley snatched the piece of parchment with his marks on it out of his hand.

'Oh, Ron, these are wonderful!' she said. 'I'm so proud of you.' Harry handed over his. She handed Ron's parchment to Harry and took Harry's and praised him for his marks; Harry saw that, as usual, Ron had gotten roughly similar marks, except that Ron scored an O in Charms instead of Defence.

'Good show, Ron,' Harry started to say, but Ron didn't hear him. He was staring, whey-faced, at something that had fallen out of his envelope.

It was a badge. The Head Boy badge.

_____________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Whew! Another chapter done. This one really flew, which was a relief considering how much trouble the last two were to write.**

**First things first: I know, I know, Ron and Hermione as Head Boy and Girl: Cliché central! Hermione is obvious--who ELSE qualifies, but Ron? Trust me, there are some VERY good reasons I chose Ron as HB, and those reasons will become clear as the story moves along. I promise you that I will justify my clichéd choice, in a way that you won't expect.**

**Second: I hope I've not disappointed anyone with regard to Ginny's powers. As I said earlier, I got the initial idea to explore the Empath concept from RedBlaze's awesome story _War and Passion_. The concept of Empaths with Telepathy I have borrowed from NightZephyr's amazing story called _Points of No Return_. You must be wondering, doesn't Lavender have an original idea for Ginny in her head? Oh yes, faithful readers, I do. I'm borrowing two great ideas and combining them and the end result will be unique and, hopefully, very cool.**

**Third: Draco loves Ginny? Yes. Harry-Ginny-Draco love triangle? NO! (In case anyone was worried about that). Nor is this a D/G story. I don't do D/G stories. Sorry.**

**Fourth: Next chapter the kids get their Apparition licences, go back to Hogwarts and of course, meet the new DADA teacher. Who could it be?**

**Fifth: I've made a few changes to Chapter 12 to make it consistent with Chapter 13. Just in case anyone really wants to go back and look it over again. ;-) **


	15. Chapter Fifteen: The Last Journey to Hog...

_Chapter Fifteen: The Last Journey to Hogwarts_

'Ron,' said Harry, amazed, as he picked up the Head Boy badge. 'That's...wow. Head Boy.'

'Ron!' Hermione and Mrs. Weasley both squeaked, and the both threw their arms around his neck.

But Ron was standing stock still, his face now so chalk-white it made his freckles look almost glaring.

'Uh, Ron?' Ginny asked.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley let go of Ron and looked at him with concern.

'Ronnie, dear?' Mrs. Weasley said tentatively.

'Ron, are you okay?' Hermione asked.

'Need...to...sit,' Ron said, and he looked suddenly like he would pass out. His knees started to buckle; Harry put down the badge and yanked up a chair just in time as Ron sank into it.

'Ron,' said Harry, pulling his own chair closer. 'Are you okay, mate?'

'It's a mistake,' said Ron, his voice a horrified whisper.

'What's a mistake?' said Mrs. Weasley, kneeling down next to her youngest son.

'I can't...I can't be...Head Boy!' said Ron, and suddenly he looked utterly appalled.

'What do you mean, you can't be?' said Mrs. Weasley.

'Ron, what's the matter?' said Hermione. 'This is good news, remember?'

'No, it's not,' said Ron, and now he was frantic. He stood up and began to pace. 'This is all wrong. I'm not supposed to be...oh, bloody hell...'

'Language, Ron,' said Mrs. Weasley, as she stood up and put her hands on her hips. 'I really don't understand what your problem is. This is a great honor--'

'No, it's not!' Ron cried. 'I can't be...I can't do this! I'm supposed to...to represent the school or something...Head Boy...Dumbledore's mad! What's he on about? I can't deal with...it's a mistake...I...I've got to get out of here...'

And Ron suddenly turned on his heel and ran from the kitchen, leaving Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Mrs. Weasley all shouting after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron paced about the attic, then stopped, then started pacing again. There was something about pacing, he decided. The act of walking back and forth while his mind was in a jumble seemed to be the only way to keep a grip on himself.

But the more he paced, the more his head spun with everything that had happened in the past day, the past week, the past month, the past year. It was too much. All of it. Ron wasn't sure he could take much more. He wanted to get on his broom and fly away to...wherever. Somewhere where there we no dark wizards chasing after his best friend and evil prat wizard classmates chasing after his sister, a place where he could finally be alone, truly alone, with his girlfriend instead of having to sneak a snog here and there and get no real relief from his frustrations because his mother was always around.

'Ron.'

Hermione's voice snapped him out of his reverie, like a rubber band on the back of his neck.

'Hi,' he said, in a choked voice.

'Ron, what's going on?' she asked, walking toward him, looking both worried and exasperated. 'Why did you run off like that?'

'Wanted to be alone,' Ron mumbled. 

'Oh,' said Hermione, and she bit her lip and started to walk out of the attic. 'Okay, I'll just go...'

'Wait,' Ron said at once. He didn't want her to go. 'Stay here. Please.'

She did, and she came to him and took his large hands in her small ones. He never got over it, how small her hands were, and yet how strong and capable.

'Talk to me,' she said. 'Why aren't you happy about...being Head Boy? Isn't it just what you wanted? You told me, remember? You looked in the Mirror of Erised and you saw yourself as Head Boy.'

Ron sighed. 'Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,' he said. An eternity, more like. Was he really seventeen now, going into his last year of school? Where did the time go? Why was he such an emotional basket case these days? Why couldn't he get himself a bloody time turner and go back to when he was eleven and life was still fun?

'Ron, please tell me,' Hermione urged.

'It's too much, 'Mione,' he said, groaning. 'I...I'm not you. I can't do a hundred things at once and be brilliant at everything. I'm supposed to be a Seer and help Harry come up with a way to defeat Voldemort and study for N.E.W.T.s and apply for jobs and look out for you and my sister and play Quidditch AND be Head Boy? Represent the bloody school? Be the...go-to person for all the prefects? I'm supposed to have answers to all sorts of questions about stuff and be calm and cool and collected in a crisis. Well, there's a laugh. I can't even look at Malfoy without wanting to break his neck! I can't do it, 'Mione. I've barely had enough since...since that night Dumbledore told me about the Seer thing and now this?'

'Ron,' Hermione said softly, and she put a cool hand on his cheek, 'you always do this.'

'Do what?' Ron said glumly.

'Underestimate yourself,' she said. 'Act like you're not good enough, or strong enough.'

'Maybe it's because it's true--'

'Stop it,' said Hermione angrily. 'Stop that right now! I won't have it.'

'Oh, you won't?' said Ron, smirking.

'No, I won't,' said Hermione crossly, putting her hands on her hips. 'You lectured me already, now it's my turn to lecture you.'

'Hermione, you always lecture me,' Ron pointed out.

'Yes, well, this time it's really, really important!' said Hermione. 'You underestimate yourself because you're afraid, not just of not measuring up but of having expectations put on you at all. That's why you don't work harder in school, when you know you could be getting O's in every class if you just applied yourself. That's why you freaked out about Quidditch in fifth year. You say you want to make your mark but when the opportunity presents itself to do just that, you run.'

'Hermione, if you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working,' Ron said, groaning.

'I'm trying to make you see reality, Ron,' said Hermione bossily. 'If you want to make your mark in this world you have to accept the fact that people are going to start expecting things from you. Nobody expects anything from someone who's mediocre.'

'Are you saying I'm mediocre?' said Ron hotly, feeling hurt.

'No!' said Hermione, throwing up her hands. 'That's what I'm trying to tell you, Ron! You're anything but mediocre! You're smart and brave and talented and exceptional. Dumbledore wouldn't have chosen you otherwise if he didn't think so. And I wouldn't love you if I didn't think so.'

Ron blushed and looked down at her. 'Really?'

'Yes, really,' said Hermione primly. 'Of course, you drive me completely mad and there are times I'd just as soon hit you over the head as kiss you--'

'Hey!'

'But I love you,' said Hermione, and her voice softened and she took his hands again. And she leaned up and kissed him softly.

He closed his eyes and savored the all too brief contact of her lips.

'I just don't want to let anyone down,' he heard himself say, as he opened his eyes.

'You won't,' said Hermione, and she moved into his arms and rested her head against his chest. 'I'm Head Girl, remember? You really think I would let you slack off?'

Ron laughed and rested his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in her lilac shampoo.

'I guess...I guess I'd better get used to the whole Head Boy thing, then,' he said. 'All the responsibility.'

'You're very responsible when you want to be,' said Hermione warmly. 'Oh, I forgot. There was a fourth piece of parchment in your envelope. I have one, too. It's just notes on the new school rules and such.'

'Oh, lovely,' said Ron. 'Sounds exciting. Fred and George are never going to let me live this down, you know.'

Hermione pulled back and looked up at him. 'Oh, let them talk,' she said, smiling. 'They're just jealous neither one of them got to be Head Boy.'

'Oh, really?' said Ron dubiously.

'Of course,' said Hermione, her eyes very serious. 'There are a lot of privileges that come with being Head Boy, you know.'

'Like what?' Ron asked. 'And don't say walking about the school anytime I want or going down to the kitchens; I already do that.'

'No,' said Hermione, and she blushed slightly as she put her arms round his neck. 'But...you know, Ron...the Head Boy and Girl both get their own private rooms.'

Ron suddenly remembered Percy and Bill telling him that. 'You're right,' he said. 'Cool.'

Hermione nodded. 'So...we can be properly alone.' She smiled up at him with a mixture of shyness and boldness.

Ron grinned. 'Does being properly alone involve getting naked?'

'It might,' said Hermione, 'if you're good.'

'I can be very good,' Ron said in a low voice, and she giggled softly as he lowered his mouth to hers. In a matter of seconds they were kissing hotly, pressed together and snogging as if their lives depended on it. Her hands were inside his shirt, traveling over his back and over his bum. Ron's whole body was burning up, his jeans were squeezing him now. He fumbled in his jeans pocket for his wand. If he could just lock the attic door, if they could just have ten minutes alone...they hadn't shagged in over two weeks...

'Ron, Hermione, are you up here?'

Ron and Hermione leapt apart just as Mrs. Weasley appeared at the attic door.

'H-hi, Mum,' Ron croaked, tugging at his t-shirt to hide the embarrassing things going on in his jeans. 

'Hi, Mrs. Weasley,' Hermione said quickly.

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes and looked at Ron, then Hermione, then Ron. 

'Is everything quite all right?' she asked, in clipped tones.

'Fine,' they both said at once.

'Good,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'I think you both should come out of here now; it's too hot to be stuck up here by yourselves. And Harry and Ginny were asking after you.'

'Right,' said Ron. He moved to take Hermione's hand, but she gave him a quick look and he reconsidered, and instead waited for her to head out the attic door and down the steps. Mrs. Weasley followed Hermione, and Ron brought up the rear, biting back a wince as his jeans pinched him painfully.

He suddenly couldn't wait to go back to school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Apparition lessons of the training course was surprisingly uneventful, all things considered. There hadn't been a splinching since the fourth lesson, when they'd started Apparating to different floors within the Ministry, and Seamus had left behind the lower half of his right leg. He'd had to go to St. Mungo's for that, but he was patched up in a trice and appeared at the following lesson looking more embarrassed than traumatized.

'Better my leg than my willy,' he had muttered to Ron, grinning. 'Lavender can't have much fun with me without that.'

Ron smiled weakly and tried not to think about that night he and Harry had heard Seamus and Lavender shagging enthusiastically in the boys' dormitory showers.

Tonight, there was a frisson of nervousness throughout the training room. This was not only their last lesson, it was the test for their Apparition licences. Normally, Kenneth said, tests were given on an individual, appointment basis, but with so many Aurors 'in the field' the Ministry had to start giving the test in a group setting.

Ron wasn't sure how he felt about this. On the one hand, he realized he was pretty good at Apparating. Well, he hadn't splinched himself, anyway. But to take a test like this in front of everyone was a bit nerve-wracking.

They were supposed to Apparate from the training room to a location in Covent Garden and back. All told, it wasn't a tremendous distance, but the potential for mishaps was high, because nobody had ever actually seen the location they were supposed to Apparate to; Kenneth had merely given them a street name and number and a description of the place. Then there was the timing aspect of the test: all of them had to successfully Apparate to and from Convent Garden in less than a minute. 

'If you go over the allotted minute,' Kenneth was saying, 'but don't splinch yourself, you'll be considered "on probation" and be required to sit the test again in two weeks. If you splinch yourself at all, you'll be required to take a remedial course before you can re-test.'

Kenneth then announced that Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt were stationed at Convent Garden, along with two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, 'just in case.' Kingsley would Apparate back with each trainee and give a written report to Kenneth on the trainee's results.

The testing was done in alphabetical order, which meant that Seamus went first.

Kenneth pulled out a stop watch as Seamus went to the center of the room, looking very nervous; but then he closed his eyes, and five seconds later, he waved his wand, hard, and Disapparated. Ron immediately looked at his watch. Thirty seconds passed, thirty five, forty, and there was another loud crack! and Seamus reappeared. His hair was a mess, he was white-faced, and he was clutching at his left leg, but he was smiling weakly, and when Ron gave him an inquiring look, Seamus nodded.

'Congratulations, Mr. Finnigan,' said Kenneth. 'You made it. Kingsley should be here shortly with your marks.'

Not thirty seconds later, Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparated loudly into the training center; without a word he crossed to Kenneth and handed him a small scroll. Kenneth placed the scroll in a wicker basket; Kingsley nodded to him, then to the class, and Disapparated.

'Miss Granger, your turn.'

Ron and Harry both grinned at her. She walked steadily to the center of the room and took a deep breath.

'I'm starting the clock...now,' said Kenneth. 

Hermione closed her eyes slowly; Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

_Come on, you can do this, you've kicked our arses in every lesson since that first one..._

_CRACK!_

Hermione was gone. Ron's eyes flew to his watch. Fifteen seconds. Twenty seconds. Twenty-one, twenty-two...

_CRACK!_

Ron's head shot up again to see Hermione, her hand trembling but her face lit up with a grin. Ron and Harry both gave her a thumbs up, and a moment later, Kingsley was back; he smiled very briefly at Hermione before handing another small scroll to Kenneth.

And on it went. 

Daphne Greengrass was next. She Apparated successfully, all told, but she cut it very fine, making it back in just under a minute. Harry was still casting furtive glances at her, and Ron rolled his eyes. Daphne was friendly enough, Ron had to admit, and she'd struck up conversations with them both. More importantly, she didn't appear to be remotely friendly with Draco, and then there was the fact that her brother had died defending Hogwarts. But she was still a Slytherin. Ron couldn't quite let go of that mistrust. 

_Interhouse__ unity, Weasley. Isn't Dumbledore always telling us how important that is?_

_Yeah, but with Slytherin?__ At least Cho was a Ravenclaw and Susan a Hufflepuff. Gryffindors get along fine with those houses._

Neville went, and he made it back in under a minute without any outward signs of splinching, but then, Neville had become the sort who rarely got it right the first time, but rarely got it wrong after that. He was a far cry these days from the nervous, bumbling kid he'd been when he'd first met Ron and the others.

Not that Neville didn't look positively terrified upon his return to the training room.

Malfoy went after that; he Apparated so fast he was barely gone. Hermione looked distinctly disgruntled that Malfoy bested her again. Harry went next, and he was even faster than Malfoy, which made Hermione grin and Malfoy scowl.

Then again, Harry looked utterly exhausted, and slightly green, upon returning. 

'I hate magical travel,' he muttered to Ron, as he took his place in line again.

Ron agreed; Apparating might be instantaneous, but a broom was safer, more fun, and at least you knew where you'd end up every time.

Lisa Turpin went next; she was the first to go over the allotted minute, and on her return her eyes were full of tears. Ron felt a rush of pity for her, but he couldn't dwell on it, because suddenly it was his turn.

He took a deep breath and went to the center of the room. Kenneth nodded and started his stopwatch.

Ron closed his eyes and forced his mind to concentrate on the street address Kenneth had given him; the street corner, the street itself, which was a side street just south of the busy marketplace, a cobblestone street with an old print shop on the corner.

_CRACK!_

Ron opened his eyes and he was there. Tonks grinned.

'Wotcher, Ron!' she said enthusiastically. 'Good show. I'd call that a perfect landing.'

'Thanks,' said Ron. 

'Well done, Weasley,' said Kingsley. 'Ready to head back. You've got forty-five seconds.'

'Yeah,' said Ron at once, and he closed his eyes and brought his mind to the training center, the padded walls, the people standing in a queue along one wall, waiting for him to return...

_There was a flash of light and Ron stumbled. When he looked up he saw a man screaming. No, not a man. Voldemort. His red eyes were flashing and his lipless mouth was pulled back in a scream. And yet there was no sound coming from his throat. A thin trickle of blood dripped from his nose. And then Ron turned and saw Harry, his eyes green eyes bright with fury and pain, and he too, was in the midst of a silent scream, and there was a thin line of blood coming from his nose as well, and suddenly there was something there, pressing on Harry's forehead, and another flash of light..._

'Ron? Ron!'

Ron opened his eyes. He was on the street corner, near Covent Garden.

'What?'

'Are you okay?' said Tonks anxiously. 'Thought we lost you there a minute.'

'Shit!' Ron hissed. He'd had a vision, right in the middle of his bloody test! 

'How much time--'

'Ten seconds,' said Kingsley, eyeing him warily

Ron closed his eyes again.

Training room. Padded walls. People in a queue along one wall. Hermione, waiting for me to come back--

_CRACK!_

Ron opened his eyes and felt his heart skip a beat. He was back. His hands instinctively flew to his crotch (thank god, he was fine there), which inspired laughter from the class.

'All in one piece, I take it, Mr. Weasley?' said Kenneth dryly.

Ron flushed. 'Oh. Uh, yeah.' He grinned sheepishly, ignoring the rolled eyes of Malfoy, and hurried over to Harry and Hermione.

'I had a vision,' he muttered at once.

'What?' Harry and Hermione hissed.

'Quiet, please!' Kenneth called. 'I know you're all tired but we have one more trainee to go before we're done.'

Another crack announced the arrival of Kingsley again.

'Thanks,' said Kenneth, taking yet another scroll from the other wizard and placing it in the basket. Kingsley nodded and Disapparated.

'Mr. Zabini,' said Kenneth.

'I'll tell you later,' Ron whispered, as Blaise Zabini took his place in the center of the room. He disappeared with a crack, and re-appeared roughly forty seconds later, looking none the worse for wear.

Kingsley came one last time to drop off the final scroll, but instead of Disapparating this time, he simply walked out the door of the training room.

Kenneth announced that they would be getting their testing marks by owl tomorrow, and would be able to pick up their licences the day after that, assuming they had all passed, of course (Lisa whimpered just a little in embarrassment). Ron barely heard the rest of Kenneth's speech--something about congratulating them on their hard work, making sure that once they got their licences they used Apparition safely, etc. 

Lupin showed up to take them back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and by the time they stepped out of the kitchen fireplace Ron was bursting to tell Harry, Hermione and Ginny of his vision. Ginny was there sipping tea and reading over her Charms notes. She acknowledged them with a quick nod; Draco glanced at her but beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

As soon as they were alone, Ron told them.

'They had nosebleeds?' said Hermione, looking confused. 

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'What could that mean?'

'Me and Voldemort are cokeheads?' Harry suggested.

'You're what?' said Ron and Ginny together.

'Drug addicts,' said Hermione. 'And obviously that's not the case. At least not for Harry. No, it's something else...'

She began to pace slowly; nobody else seemed to be able to imagine what Ron's vision could possibly mean, but suddenly Hermione stopped pacing and her eyes lit up.

'What if it's trauma?' she said. 

'Excuse me?' said Ron.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I'm getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, what if Ron saw Harry and Voldemort in a mental battle?'

'Makes sense,' said Harry, a bit glumly. 'It's happened before and...well, it'll probably happen again  next time I see him.'

'What does that have to do with nosebleeds?' said Ron.

'Brain trauma,' said Hermione, and she bit her lip. 'Nosebleeds can sometimes be caused by head injury or trauma to the brain.'

'Oh, well, that's good to know,' said Harry, running a hand through his head. 

'Harry, listen to me,' said Hermione. 'You've been wondering how you hurt Voldemort. Maybe...that's how.'

'Maybe what's how?' said Harry, confused.

'You fought with him,' said Hermione. 'Not just physically but mentally. Remember? He got inside your head and tried to possess you, but Ron got through to you and you...kicked Voldemort out of your head and that's when he Apparated. Maybe you hurt...his brain.'

'Are you serious?' Harry said doubtfully.

'Why not?' said Ginny. 'Your scar didn't hurt for a while, did it? How does he make your scar hurt, Harry? By connecting with you mentally.'

'But I haven't woken up with any nosebleeds,' Harry protested.

'Maybe that's because Voldemort hasn't been able to hurt you badly enough,' said Hermione. 'Maybe that's what the prophecy meant by "power the Dark Lord knows not".'

'Mental power?' said Harry. 'But...wait. Voldemort possessed me at the Riddle House, yeah, but I wasn't able to fight him off, not until Ron...'

His voice trailed off.

'Not until I what?' said Ron, and then his eyes went wide.

'I talked to you,' he said. 'Dumbledore said I got through to you, and that's why you were able to...fight him off.'

'I'm still confused,' said Harry, groaning. 'I mean, I get it. I...I can fight him off if I feel emotions but how am I supposed to kill him? Send him some loving thoughts and tell him I want to be his boyfriend or something? Give him a hug? Kill him with kindness?'

Ginny sniggered, and quickly covered her hand, but then Harry started to laugh. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and then they, too were laughing. It didn't seem altogether appropriate, but with the seriousness of everything going on around them, Ron was willing to take laughter wherever he could get it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, just a few days before they were to return to Hogwarts, the Apparition licences arrived. Harry received the highest marks of all; Ron didn't care. He was just bloody glad he didn't have to retake the test.

Mrs. Weasley ordered all of them--including Draco--to keep their Apparition licences safely on them until they were at school, at which time they should store them somewhere secure in their dorm rooms.

In the interim, Ron and the others frantically plowed through the remainder of their homework. The only upshot of having so much work was that Mrs. Weasley gave them a reprieve from cleaning house, but as Ron pulled out another piece of parchment to tackle his fifth Potions essay, he rather wished he could face a dozen rooms full of doxies instead, because his brain was about to explode.

Hermione, of course, had already finished her homework, and was devoting her attention to that fourth piece of parchment Dumbledore had sent, that contained all the new school rules and procedures. She was already planning the first prefects' meeting, to take place on the Hogwarts' Express. Ron tried to help a bit, but in the end she took over in a huff; he placated her, a bit, when he told her that it was just as well, because her notes were always perfect and her handwriting pristine, whereas his notes and his handwriting were both sloppy and illegible.

As a reward for Ron getting the Head Boy badge, Mrs. Weasley added a new cauldron to Ron's list of school things. She even bought one brand new, thanks to some funds she'd received from Fred and George, and this year, all their books were new, too.

Ron would have preferred some new clothes to a cauldron, but his old one really was nearly rusted through, and he wasn't about to question his mother at the moment, not the way she had been watching him every time he was within five feet of Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley had become a bloodhound, always tracking them. It was uncanny how she seemed to always be around whenever Ron and Hermione tried to be alone together. Ron didn't understand how there could be less privacy in a house so big and with so few people in it on a regular basis than there was at the Burrow when it was full to bursting of his relatives and friends.

With every passing minute Ron wanted to be on the Hogwarts Express, on his way to school where he had a room all to himself, where he could be...properly alone with his girlfriend without having to worry about being interrupted all the bloody time. He wanted to be on his broom again, playing Quidditch; he didn't even want to think about how his game had suffered from the lack of practice. Things were getting so insufferable that he even looked forward to lessons. Well, all except lessons from Snape, which were sure to be particularly dreadful this year.

It wasn't until the night before they left for school that Ron remembered that none of them had any idea who the Dark Arts teacher would be this year. No doubt Dumbledore had trouble filling the position again this year; probably more trouble, considering what had happened last year. Ron couldn't help but wish Bill would come back--he'd been a great teacher, even if all the girls acted silly over him. But it wouldn't happen, not after what Bill had gone through last year. And now, being engaged to Fleur...no, Bill was in enough danger simply working a desk job and traveling occasionally to talk to disgruntled goblins.

Ron and the others had decided to call a halt to their research into finding a way to destroy Voldemort. It was difficult to get access to any decent books, anyway, Hermione had complained, and as they couldn't go to Diagon Alley whenever they wanted and visit Longbottom Library, they agreed to hold off on any further investigating until they got to school. Harry didn't seem to mind in the least, and in the interim he reported no new pain in his scar. Ginny had no further nightmares of Tom Riddle. Ron had had no visions since the one on the night of the Apparition test, and his dreams were pretty much all sex dreams with Hermione, considering his deprivation on that front. But he wrote his dreams down anyway, on the off chance that he remembered something non-sex related that might be useful. Hermione taught him a few very powerful locking spells to prevent Draco from prying, and as Draco was not allowed to use a wand outside of Apparition training (Mrs. Weasley had always snatched her husband's old wand out of Draco's hand the moment they would return from training), Ron was confident the little prat wouldn't be able to read any of the entries.

Ron and Harry finally sat Ginny down and told her what they knew of her special powers; Ron let Harry do most of the talking. But neither of them could seem to bring up their suspicions about Draco, about the fact that he might have blackmailed her. Ginny, for her part, congratulated the boys on 'finally using their heads', and told them that she had indeed been training at school, under Madam Pomfrey, who'd done extensive work with a few Empaths in the past. Ron couldn't help but chuckle: Madam Pomfrey was an excellent Healer but she wasn't known for her sweet bedside manner. No wonder she had Ginny helping her.

The morning came to go back to school, and as usual, it was chaotic, only this time it was Draco causing problems. He whined that he didn't have enough clothes, that he wasn't allowed to levitate his trunk because he had no wand, that he had to walk to King's Cross with Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Harry (Harry promised Ron to hex the crap out of Malfoy if he so much as looked at Ginny) instead of being taken there in his father's luxury car. Draco shut up, however, the moment he saw Mad-Eye Moody show up. Even if, technically, the man who'd turned Draco into a ferret in fourth year was Barty Crouch, Jr., and not the actual Moody, Draco paled at the sight of Moody and kept well out of his way. Ron and Hermione took a slightly different route with Tonks and Lupin.

By the time they reached King's Cross station, it was quarter to eleven. They boarded the train in a jumble of trunks and cages, waving goodbye to their escorts; almost at once Draco stalked off, no doubt to find Crabbe and Goyle. Ron and Hermione, already dressed in their school uniforms with their badges pinned to their robes, left Ginny and Harry in the corridor--they said they'd find a compartment. Ron and Hermione hurried to the front of the train to the Head Boy and Girl compartment. They rushed inside and stowed their trunks and pet cages. Ron was rather delighted to find that they were alone in a compartment, but Hermione was all business; she reached into her school bag and removed several pieces of parchment.

'Here are the notes for the first meeting with the prefects,' she said briskly. 'You take these and I'll take these.'

Ron stared at the pages of parchment. 'My god, Hermione, how many trees died for these notes?'

'Ha ha,' said Hermione dryly. 'Ron, it's important that we cover everything in the first meeting. There are a lot of new rules, you know that.'

'I know,' said Ron. 'And...oh, lovely. More "social events" to promote school unity. I guess we could plan a ball of some kind.'

'Probably,' said Hermione, 'although to be honest I wonder if a ball is the best way to promote school unity. The younger students can't participate and there's all that social pressure to show up with a date. And of course dressing up can really be a hassle. Maybe we should plan a Gobstones tournament or a schoolwide picnic or something--'

'Hermione,' said Ron suddenly, 'let's plan a ball. Because it would be really nice if I could finally go to one as your date.'

Hermione's eyes went soft. 'How do you do that?' she asked, taking his hand.

'Do what?' he asked.

'Act all silly one minute and then all sweet and wonderful the next?'

Ron blushed and shrugged his shoulders. 'Dunno.' And then he grinned wickedly. 'Maybe I just do it to get in your knickers.'

She slapped his hand away and laughed. 'Ron!'

'Speaking of which,' he said, taking her hand and tugging her close.

'Ron, we have a prefects' meeting,' she said, but she didn't resist.

'I know,' he said, grinning.

'In five minutes,' said Hermione.

'Plenty of time,' said Ron.

'No,' said Hermione, laughing.

'Please,' Ron pleaded. 'I'm dying, Hermione.' He gave her his best lopsided grin.

'You're dying?' she said, putting a hand on her hip. 

'Okay, I'm not dying,' he said, taking her hand again and pulling her back. 'But I am suffering.'

'Well...so am I,' she said loftily. 'You're not the only one who gets...worked up, you know.'

'Okay, then,' said Ron, 'why don't we do something about it?'

'Because in three and a half minutes we have a meeting and the last thing I need is to scramble my brain up by having a...a quickie with you in a train compartment, and in any case one of us has to be sensible, and since you refuse to be--'

He silenced her by kissing her; it was one of his favorite ways to shut her up, mostly because it was so bloody fun, but also because it was effective. Well, she HAD told him he was a good kisser.

She broke off. 'That was totally unfair.'

'I know,' he said.

'We can't,' she said. 'Not now.'

'I know,' he said, pouting a bit.

'But we can later,' she said. 'We could...christen my room.'

'Wicked,' he said, grinning, and she gave him a soft smile before she re-organized her notes and smoothed her robes.

Business now, shag later. He could live with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting started a minute later. There were several new faces in the group, among the old ones. Anthony and Padma showed up, along with Ernie--he looked particularly disgruntled and Ron realized the other boy must have assumed he would get the Head Boy badge this year--and Hannah. There were some sixth year prefects, including Colin Creevey and a sixth year Gryffindor girl Ron did not know, and a few fifth year prefects as well, all of whom politely introduced themselves; Ron immediately forgot all their names. But Ron knew immediately who the Slytherin prefects were, and they were not Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy.

'Uh, hi,' said Ron. 

'Hello,' said Hermione, putting on her best smile.

'Hi,' said Daphne Greengrass, and she was friendly enough.

'Hey,' said Blaise Zabini, very coolly. 'We're the new seventh-year prefects for Slytherin. Guess Dumbledore decided Draco and Pansy weren't up for the jobs.'

Ron bit back a scowl. Zabini had the same sort of arrogance that Draco had. 

Before Ron could really contemplate this, however, the meeting began in earnest. It lasted well over an hour, and Hermione did most of the talking, explaining the duties of the prefects and most of the dormitory rules. Ron took over on issues of security; there would be regular Auror guards at the school now, as well as trolls. 

'Don't mess with them,' Ron warned. 'They'd as soon take your head off as protect you.'

The meeting ended with handshakes and Hermione passing out various schedules: of meetings, of study groups, and event planning. Everyone filed out, except Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass.

'Congratulations, Weasley,' Blaise said. 'On making Head Boy. And you, Granger.'

'Thank you,' said Hermione primly. She cast a glance at Daphne, who gave her a cool smile.

'Let's not waste time on niceties, okay?' said Blaise. 'I know there's a lot of bad blood between our houses, and I know Draco was responsible for a lot of it.'

'Most of it,' said Ron stiffly. 'But he had some help.'

'Yes, he did,' said Daphne evenly. 'But times change, and circumstances change. Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters in training.'

'I know that,' said Ron defensively.

'I don't think you do,' said Blaise, and when Ron started to protest, the dark-haired boy held up his hands. 'It's not all on you, Weasley. Slytherins haven't exactly done anything to endear ourselves to the other houses. But I'm telling you now, as the newly appointed official representatives of Slytherin house, that we're on your side. We don't all of us bow down to the Dark Lord.'

'Is that so?' said Ron, looking down at Blaise doubtfully.

'Yeah, that's so,' said Blaise. 'We don't have to become friends, Weasley. I'm just saying, let's bury the hatchet like grown-ups and be civil.'

'Why should we trust you?' Ron asked, in as calm a voice as he could.

'Because we've lost people, too,' said Daphne, and her voice shook slightly. 

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, then looked at Blaise and Daphne, who stood ramrod straight. They might be Slytherins, and they might be proud and even arrogant, but there was no disguising the traces of hurt in their eyes.

'All right, then,' said Ron, and he held out his hand to Blaise, who shook it firmly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Very shortly after that, Blaise and Daphne left. Ron managed to convince Hermione to join him in a good long snog in the Head Boy/Head Girl compartment, but when he moved to take off her robes, she called a halt to things. Ron groaned and pouted but then Hermione whispered a few things in his ear--things they could do later in her room, and he decided he could stand waiting a few more hours.

'Besides, this is our last trip to Hogwarts after the summer holidays,' said Hermione. 'We should spend some time with Harry and Ginny.'

They left the compartment, leaving their things behind, and headed toward the back of the train to the compartment where they'd initially dropped Harry off. 

They were halfway there when they saw Harry himself walking down the corridor.

'Hey,' said Ron. 'Going to the loo?'

'Why, you want to join me?' Harry asked dryly.

'No, you prat,' said Ron. 'Meeting's over, we thought we'd join you and Ginny, whoever else.'

'Ginny left with Colin but Neville and Luna are still there,' said Harry, and his voice was edged with...something. 

_Annoyance?___

 'Be careful, though,' Harry went on. 'Earlier we came to a compartment and Neville and Luna were in there, sucking each other's faces off.'

Ron grimaced. 'Lovely image, Harry, thanks. Look, if you're not going to the loo, come back and we'll play chess or something.'

Harry shook his head. 'I'm sick of sitting around. I think I'll take a walk for a bit, join you later.'

'You're sure you're okay, Harry?' said Hermione, placing a hand on his arm.

He gave her a tight smile. 'I'm fine. See you in a bit.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. 'Okay,' said Ron, and Harry moved down the corridor; he was just about to go into the next car when he nearly collided with Daphne Greengrass. Ron watched Harry apologize, and then Daphne apologize. Both of their faces were slightly pink, and though Ron could only see Harry's profile, he recognized the look on Harry's face as he spoke with Daphne. 

'Ron, don't stare,' Hermione hissed. 'Let's go.'

'Wait,' said Ron, ignoring Hermione tugging his hand. He watched as Daphne smiled prettily at something Harry said, and then the two of them nodded and walked off together in the opposite direction.

'Ron!' Hermione hissed, and she yanked on his hand, hard, and Ron let himself be led away.

They entered the compartment to find Neville and Luna, thankfully, not locked in a passionate embrace. Rather, Neville was sleeping soundly, his head on Luna's lap, as she read the latest edition of _The Quibbler_, upside down.

'Uh, hi,' said Ron uncertainly, smiling as Luna looked up from her magazine.

Her face lit up. 

'Hello, Ronald!' she said dreamily. 'Hermione. It's lovely to see you.'

'You, too,' said Ron.

'Hello, Luna,' said Hermione, pursing her lips slightly. 'Good magazine?'

'Not one of Dad's best, no,' said Luna mournfully, shaking her head. 'Our trip to Sweden this summer was not very successful.'

'No Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, eh?' said Ron, trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

'No,' said Luna, shrugging. 'Dad thinks they might have migrated to north. They really only like very cold water, you see. Global warming has caused the water temperatures to rise and the Snorckacks can't tolerate water above 5 degrees Celsius--'

'That's very interesting,' said Hermione quickly, hoping to stave off any further ramblings about Snorkacks. But Luna was not deterred.

'Isn't it?' said Luna. 'Anyway, Neville was there, too--he said you all had Apparition training together. My fathers says that Apparition is very unhealthy. He says that every time a person Apparates, he suffers microscopic brain damage that's cumulative over time. He says--'

They were saved from further commentary by Luna when Neville snorted and opened his eyes and sat up.

'Hi, Ron, Hermione,' he said sleepily. 'Good prefect meeting?'

'Thrilling,' said Ron, feeling suddenly annoyed that Harry wasn't here. This was their last September 1 trip to Hogwarts. And Harry was off with some girl--a SLYTHERIN girl.

_Leave it. The poor bloke's lonely and deserves some female company._

_Yeah, but Daphne?___

_She's good looking, she's nice, she made a peace offering, and she and Harry seem to get along. Better that than Harry mooning over Susan._

'Fancy some chess, Neville?' Ron asked.

'Sure,' said Neville happily, and they set to playing, as Hermione opened the book she'd carried from the Head Boy/Girl compartment.

Ron beat Neville twice--quite spectacularly--before Harry reappeared.

'Hey,' he said. 

'Hi, Harry,' said Neville. 'Maybe you can take over for me. Ron's killing me.'

'Won't be any different if I play,' said Harry, shrugging, and he sat down next to Ron.

Ron resisted the urge to ask about Daphne; with Neville and Luna in the compartment it didn't seem the appropriate time or place to delve into Harry's love life, such as it was.

Instead, they played chess, and Ron won as usual, and they bought sweets from the trolley cart, and as the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Ron tried to ignore the pang in his chest as he realized that he would never again be making this journey as Hogwarts student.

'You okay, Ron?' Harry asked, as he pulled his trunk from the luggage rack.

'Fine,' said Ron. 'Just...can you believe...it's our last year of school...'

'You're not going to get all mushy on me now, are you?' Harry asked, grinning.

'Piss off,' said Ron, swatting Harry across the back of the head.

'Ron, we have to go!' Hermione hissed. 'We have to be at the front to make sure all the students get loaded in the carriages properly.'

'Right,' said Ron. He turned to Harry and grinned. 'Welcome home, mate.'

And the three of them stepped out of the compartment, off the train, and onto the platform, to face their seventh year.

________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: FINALLY! They made it. Yay! The chapter ran a bit long but I wanted to cover a lot of ground. **

**I know, I know, you're wondering, WHERE is the fluff? I promise you, in the next few chapters, you'll get some. Or perhaps I should say, some of our favorite characters will get some.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: The Power of an Empath

_Chapter Sixteen: The Power of an Empath_

Harry took a deep breath as he stepped off the Hogwarts Express. Ron had said 'Welcome home, mate.' And Ron was right. Harry was home.

He grinned. He was in a better mood now, all things considered. Thanks to Daphne.

Daphne Greengrass. What a name. What a girl. She was gorgeous, she was nice, she was smart. And she was interested in him.

He replayed in his mind the hour and a half they'd spent together on the train and he couldn't help but grin stupidly.

They'd talked a lot. They'd been talking some since they met at Apparition training, of course, but they'd never really had an opportunity to talk by themselves. Harry hadn't wanted to leave, really, but he knew he couldn't very well spend the entire journey with her; it was his last beginning-of-term trip to Hogwarts, and he wanted to spend it with Ron and Hermione. And yet, when he'd told her he had to go, she'd looked disappointed, and he'd felt disappointed, and just when she said, 'I guess I'll see you around,' some words blurted from his mouth before he really knew what they were.

'Do you want go out sometime?'

And she'd smiled at him, shrugged her shoulders, and said, 'Yeah.'

'Great,' said Harry, and he seized upon the first idea he could think of. 'How about a picnic? There's this great spot on the grounds...we could go.'

'You'll arrange a picnic?' she'd said, her eyebrows lifting.

'I know some people in the kitchen,' said Harry, shrugging. 'They'll hook me up.'

'A picnic sounds lovely,' she'd said.

'This weekend?' Harry suggested, and he felt his voice weaken just slightly. 'Sunday? Half past twelve?'

'Okay,' she'd said. 'Sunday, half past twelve.' She licked her lips; she did that a lot, and it was very sexy and very distracting.

'Great,' said Harry again, letting out a breath. 'Uh, well, I'll...see you later, I guess.'

'Bye,' she'd said softly.

'Bye,' he'd said. But neither of them moved for a moment. Harry's feet felt as though they were stuck to the floor of the compartment.

And suddenly, as if they were both hit by some charm, they moved toward one another and his mouth slid over hers, slowly and delicately. She'd moved closer and wrapped a hand round the back of his neck, and her fingers played with the fine hairs at his nape, making him shiver. Then she'd parted her lips and admitted his tongue, and his arms encircled her waist, and they kissed deeply and slowly for a good minute before she pulled back.

They held each other for a long moment; he could feel her breath on his face. She looked at him with her fascinating hazel eyes.

'That was lovely,' she said, her voice a bit breathy.

'Yeah,' he agreed.

'You should probably--' she'd said, her voice hitched.

'I should probably--' he'd said, panting slightly.

'Yeah,' she'd said.

'Right,' he'd said.

'See you,' she'd said.

'Yeah,' said Harry, and he backed out of the compartment. He grinned. 'Bye.'

'Bye.'

And he'd had to force himself not to let out a whoop as he headed toward the back of the train. Along the way he stopped in a loo and splashed cold water on his face to calm himself down. It had been ages since he'd kissed a girl. Okay, not ages, but long enough. He'd forgotten how incredible it felt.

He hadn't mentioned it to Ron and Hermione. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone. For some reason, Harry just didn't want to. That moment was HIS moment, his and Daphne's, and he wanted it to stay that way.

And now here he was, waiting for the thestral-pulled carriages to arrive, a very silly grin plastered on his face. 

_Back in business, Potter. No more lonely horny thing for you. No sir. A gorgeous, intelligent girl, no, woman, is interested in you. Susan who?_

'Hey,' said a familiar female voice.

Harry felt his stomach do a small lurch.

'Hey, Ginny, where'd you get off to?' he asked, as casually as he could. He tried to ignore how pretty she looked in her school uniform.

_Wait a minute, don't look at her! You only snogged Daphne a few hours ago, you can't be checking out Ginny!_

_Dear god, her robes don't do much to hide anything, do they?_

_Stop it!_

'Colin,' said Ginny. 'He's been having...well, anyway, he needed to talk to me about some things.'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Uh, he's okay now, I take it?'

_Did you use your power to make him feel better?_

'I guess so,' said Ginny. 'And no, I didn't use...that...to help him.'

'I never said you did,' said Harry quickly, blushing. 

'Okay,' said Ginny, still smiling. He wished she wouldn't. Not only because she looked so very pretty when she did, but because it only made him feel guiltier when he wondered about how often she used her powers and for whom. About Draco, and what he'd demanded of her...

'First years! This way, please!'

Harry and Ginny both started at the sound of a familiar voice. Familiar, but not Hagrid's. Professor Grubbly-Plank was waving her arms and gesturing for all the first years to follow her to the boats.

'What's she doing here?' Harry asked, irritated. 'Where's Hagrid?'

'Dunno,' said Ginny, looking concerned. 'Maybe...maybe he's on another mission, or something.'

'Maybe,' said Harry doubtfully, and his happy feelings continued to deflate.

'Let's get a carriage, yeah?' said Ginny, nodding, and Harry followed after her toward a thestral-led carriage. It was empty. They climbed in and settled themselves, but the carriage didn't move yet--it wouldn't move until at least two more students climbed in.

'Who is she?' Ginny asked suddenly.

'What?' said Harry, confused.

'That blonde girl I saw you talking to,' said Ginny. 'The Slytherin.'

'Oh,' said Harry, flushing slightly and looking down at his shoes. 'That's Daphne. Daphne Greengrass.'

'Daphne Greengrass?' said Ginny, looking amused. 'That's quite a name. Not really a Slytherin kind of name, is it?'

'I guess not,' said Harry, shrugging. 'She's actually...quite nice. For a Slytherin, I mean. I met her at Apparition training.'

_Oh yeah, and a while ago I had my tongue in her mouth and it was fucking brilliant._

_Yeah, so why do you feel...guilty all of a sudden?_

Ginny stiffened at this. 'Oh,' she said. 'You...you never mentioned her.'

'Right,' said Harry, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. 'I guess...I must have forgotten.'

'Right,' said Ginny, her voice edged with doubt. 

And once again, there was a painfully awkward silence between them.

Harry felt confused, irritated and ridiculous all at once. 

He was confused, because ever since that night in the kitchen, when they'd almost kissed, things hadn't been quite the same with Ginny. She'd said not one word about it and had behaved as if it had never happened, to the point that, more than once, Harry actually wondered if it had. 

He was irritated, with her and with himself. With her, for acting...good lord, could she be jealous that he'd been talking to Daphne? What for? What right did she have? And yet, he was irritated with himself, too, because he'd reacted a bit jealously when she'd gone off with Colin.

_She left me alone with Neville and Luna while Ron and Hermione were running that meeting and who knows what else. _

_That's not the only reason you got upset and you know it. You wanted her to spend time with you._

_Yeah, but you found somebody else to keep you company, didn't you? Somebody just as smart and pretty and nice and you forgot all about Ginny._

The feeling of ridiculousness overtook him. How could he feel so strongly attracted to Ginny after what had happened with Daphne? Could he really be attracted to two girls at the same time?

_Not just two girls, Potter. Three._

And then Harry remembered Susan. He'd forgotten all about her until that moment. 

He'd seen her on the train; he hadn't mentioned it to anyone because he didn't want to see the expressions of concern on Ron's and Hermione's faces. But Harry had seen Susan. She was with Terry, of course (Harry was furious to see that for a guy who'd splinched off his dick, Terry didn't look remotely traumatized). She and Harry exchanged a few polite words before Harry hurried away, not wanting to spend another minute in her presence. It was a little while after that, that Ginny had left to be with Colin somewhere, and he, Harry, had found Daphne. Snogging Daphne had put Susan entirely out of his mind.

_You still miss Susan. Admit it.  You haven't thrown away that photograph._

_I haven't looked at it in a week, either._

_If she came back, if she asked you to take her back, would you?_

_I don't know! I miss her, I miss what we had._

_Who's to say you can't have that with someone else?_

_Who, Daphne? Ginny? I snog one great girl and then I turn around and WANT to snog another one. Hardly a recipe for monogamy, is it? Maybe I'm still in the throes of the lonely horny thing after all..._

Harry might have brooded even further on his confusion about women, but at that moment Parvati Patil climbed into the coach, along with Dean Thomas.

'Hi, Harry!' said Parvati, smiling. 'Ginny. Mind if we join you?'

'Not at all,' said Ginny, smiling back, but the smile she gave Dean was distinctly cooler.

'Hey, Gin,' said Dean, and Harry felt a flash of irritation. That he could talk to her like that, as if he hadn't dumped her and broken her heart and treated her like dirt...

'Good summer, Harry?' said Parvati, and she smiled at him, showing very white, even teeth. Her thick dark hair was loose and hanging over one shoulder, and her dark, almost liquid brown eyes were sparkling.

_Bloody hell, she really is gorgeous. I can't believe I was mooning over Cho when I had her as a date in fourth year._

_Hello?! Daphne Greengrass, girl you snogged on the train! Stop checking out Parvati!_

'Not terrible,' said Harry.

'Did you hear about Malfoy?' said Dean. 'He lost his prefect badge.'

'Oh, we know all about Malfoy, Dean,' said Ginny coolly. 

Dean gave her an appraising look, and Harry bristled.

'Good summer for you, Gin?' Dean asked. For some reason Harry hated the idea of Dean calling her 'Gin'.

'Not bad,' said Ginny, smiling. 

'You look great,' he said.

'Thanks,' said Ginny, an edge to her voice. Harry scowled as he gripped the cushions of his seat, and the carriage suddenly gave a lurch. They were on their way to the castle.

'So, Harry,' said Parvati, 'everyone's heard about...well, last term. What you did.'

'Really?' said Harry, and he was feeling so cranky now he could feel himself gritting his teeth.

'Yes,' said Parvati, and her voice was suddenly low and smooth. 'I just want you to know, I think you're incredibly brave.'

Ginny gave a snort that turned quickly into a cough, and Harry glanced quickly at her; she was looking out the window.

'Oh, thanks,' Harry said, remembering to address Parvati.

'I heard about Susan, too,' said Parvati, in a sympathetic voice, and she put her hand on his knee. 'For what it's worth, I think it's her loss, not yours.'

Harry gaped at her for a moment. Good god. Was she...FLIRTING with him?

Her hand was still on his knee and he noticed that her thumb was moving ever so slightly over his kneecap. 

'Th-thanks, Parvati,' said Harry, his voice a bit unsteady.

'You're welcome,' she said, smiling, and she removed her hand from his knee. Harry pursed his lips, hard, and forced out a smile. His eyes darted to Ginny again; hers were fixed on Parvati, and they looked cold. In the next instant Ginny caught Harry looking at her, and her own eyes moved quickly back to the window.

Harry felt his heart pounding. This wasn't happening. Whatever 'this' was. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with women? The girl he'd loved had dumped him. His best mate's sister had almost put the moves on him in a kitchen one night, and then she spent the rest of the time acting like it hadn't happened. Oh yeah, and she'd gone and developed one of the most gorgeous bodies he'd ever seen, right under his bloody nose, and he'd spent the entire summer with his eyes magnetically drawn to her incredible bosom as though they had a flashing sign on them saying 'Check Us Out!' Then he'd met a beautiful Slytherin girl--a SLYTHERIN girl--and they'd had a lovely conversation on the train that ended in a clinch. And Parvati Patil had just rubbed his knee. 

On top of this, Dean was stealing looks at Ginny--very wolfish looks--and it pissed Harry off no end. When they reached the castle at last, it was not a moment too soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Harry sat down in the Great Hall, he noticed it. 

'Where is everyone?' he asked. 'The students? Looks like we're only half full this year.'

'I suppose a lot of students aren't coming back this year, are they?' said Hermione. 'After what happened with the attack and everything.'

'Where's Hagrid?' Ron hissed. 'He wasn't there to meet the first years; it was Grubbly-Plank.'

'Dunno,' said Harry gloomily. 'Off on another mission, I guess.'

'Dumbledore doesn't look so good,' Seamus muttered, nodding up to the staff table.

Harry gazed at the Headmaster and felt his stomach clench. Seamus was right; Dumbledore DID look quite bad. His skin looked somewhat ashen and was dry as paper; the bags under his eyes were prominent, and his eyes, normally so bright and sparkling, looked dull, bloodshot and tired. Even his hair and beard, normally so brilliantly silver-white, looked flat. The brightness of his purple robes only served to highlight how old and fatigued he looked.

'Could he be ill?' Hermione wondered, sounding worried.

'Dunno,' said Ron. 'Snape doesn't look much better. Is it just me or does it look like none of the teachers have been sleeping much?'

Harry studied the teachers one by one; almost to a one, they all sported tired eyes, dark circles, sallow or ashen skin. Even Professor Flitwick, normally so full of energy, seemed sapped of it. 

_It was the battle last term. They haven't fully recovered from it yet. And the Order...they're all working for the Order on top of everything else. No wonder they're knackered._

'Does anyone know about the Dark Arts teacher?' Neville asked.

'Only that whoever it is, is supposed to arrive sometime after the Sorting,' said Hermione. 

'I wish Professor Weasley could have come back,' said Lavender Brown, sighing. 'He was the best teacher we've ever had.'

'Right,' said Seamus. 'And the fact that he was good looking had nothing to do with it.'

'I dunno,' said Parvati. 'I think Harry's been a very good teacher for us.'

And she gave him a bright smile.

_Oh, boy._

It was at that moment that the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professors McGonagall and Grubbly-Plank came in, escorting a group of timid and very small first years.

Was I that small when I was a first year? Harry wondered.

Professor Grubbly-Plank took her seat--or rather, Hagrid's seat--as Professor McGonagall announced the start of the Sorting. McGonagall, at least, looked somewhat better than she had when Harry had last seen her. She had some color in her cheeks and her eyes were bright and focused, and she no longer moved in the tentative way she had only a few weeks ago. But she was thinner than usual (and that was saying something), and like Dumbledore, she looked very old.

The Sorting began. Harry was starving, and once again he wished the stupid Sorting wouldn't take so long. Every trace of joy he'd felt at kissing Daphne was faded. Now there was only confusion and frustration. Ginny appeared to be irritated with him; she's said very little to him since they arrived in the Great Hall. Parvati kept casting him furtive looks and smiles; Harry couldn't tell if she was flirting with him or not, but if she was, he realized he didn't mind in the least. Which only made him more confused.

_Parvati. Ginny. Daphne. I'm a mess. I'm a horny bastard. Why do girls have to be pretty and soft and tempting? Why can't they all be plain and uninteresting? More to the point, why do they all have to look so good at the same time?_

And then his eyes caught Daphne's, and she smiled, and he remembered how her mouth had tasted (like strawberries), and he smiled back and felt a familiar pinching in his trousers. He glanced at Snape and the pinching stopped at once.

The Sorting ended, and Harry realized he hadn't heard a word of it; he couldn't have named a single Gryffindor first year if he'd tried. He only noticed that the current crop of first years was smaller in number than usual. It was then that Dumbledore stood up, very slowly. Harry grimaced. He couldn't remember ever seeing Dumbledore look this frail.

'Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!' he said, and the strength of his voice belied his delicate appearance. 'I'm sure you are all famished, so I won't bore you with announcements now. Tuck in!'

At that moment, food appeared on plates and platters, but Harry wasn't paying attention to that; he was watching Dumbledore as he sat down, painfully slow in his movements. What had happened to the old wizard over the summer? Granted, he'd looked somewhat the worse for wear at the end of term last year, but that had been understandable; he'd been hurt in a battle and spent some time in St. Mungo's. And yet, despite this, he'd seemed...okay at the End of Term Feast.

And hadn't he been running the Order? Hadn't Professor Lupin--Remus--told Harry how often he'd been in contact with the Headmaster?

'You okay, Harry?' said Neville.

'What?' said Harry, blinking. 'Oh, fine.' He started eating at once, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

Halfway through pudding the doors to the Great Hall opened. At once everyone looked round. Harry saw a witch he'd never seen before stride in. His breath caught. She was tall and striking. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled off her face and partly hidden beneath a small black hat, and she was draped in long black robes. She had very pale blue, crystalline eyes and skin so alabaster and creamy it looked almost translucent, and seemed almost to shine like the surface of a pearl. Harry could see the tiny blue veins in her temples even as he sat twenty-five feet away from her. Her eyes, hair and lips--which were full and pink and starkly sensual--provided the only color on her. There wasn't even a trace of color in her cheeks, and she walked so smoothly she seemed to glide, as though her feet barely touched the floor. She looked almost ghostly, and yet there was no doubt she was a living thing, of flesh and blood. As she passed by the Gryffindor table Harry shivered.

She took a seat in the chair reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape glanced at the woman, but his eyes lacked the usual contempt for the person who so often took away the job he wanted for himself. Perhaps having recently been put near the top of Voldemort's hit list had caused Snape to refocus his priorities, perhaps even mellow out just a bit.

'That's the Dark Arts teacher?' Dean whispered.

'Nice,' said Seamus, eyeing the witch appreciatively. 

'Oh, please,' said Lavender, rolling her eyes.

At that moment, Dumbledore stood again, and the Hall fell silent once more.

'I trust all of you have enjoyed the feast,' he said. 'Unfortunately it is time for me to make my annual announcements.

'First, the usual. The Forbidden Forest is entirely, completely, utterly and totally out of bounds to all students.

'Second, please with all haste consult the list of forbidden items on our caretaker's office door; Mr. Filch has added several items to the list this year.

'With that out of the way, I'd like to address some new items. Last term the school introduced new security measures in light of various events. Those measures are in place again this year. Students will be escorted to and from lessons by Aurors or teachers--whoever is available. We will have security trolls guarding the grounds at all times, and it is vital that students do not disturb them. Students are forbidden from wandering the corridors in the evenings, and must return to their common rooms, no later than seven p.m. for fourth years and below, and nine p.m. for fifth years and above.'

These announcements brought some quiet grumbling.

'That said,' Dumbledore said loudly, 'I am pleased to announce that Hogsmeade visits will take place for students fifth year and above, in the company of Auror security, and Quidditch matches will resume, under tight security. It is an unfortunate side-effect of the times that such security measures are necessary.'

Harry felt his shoulders sag slightly. He should be thrilled that Quidditch wouldn't be done away with, but part of him shuddered. The attack of Hogwarts had happened right after a Quidditch match. He wondered suddenly if he could ever fly over the pitch again without wondering if the grounds would suddenly fill with Death Eaters and Dementors.

'In happier news,' Dumbledore went on, 'I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Griselda Hopkirk.'

At this, the strawberry-haired witch stood up to the polite applause of the students and teachers. She nodded and smiled, but her lips stayed closed and the smile didn't reach her eyes. She sat down smoothly and her eyes moved over the room; Harry felt her eyes come to rest on him and he shuddered again, but forced himself to meet her eyes. She gave him the slightest nod, so small as to be almost imperceptible.

Hopkirk. The name sounded familiar.

'Hogwarts is grateful to have Professor Hopkirk join our staff this year,' Dumbledore said. 'She has extensive experience in defensive magic and I am quite confident that all of you will receive an exceptional education from her.'

More polite applause. Professor Hopkirk wasn't looking at Harry anymore, for which he was grateful. Something about her sent a chill through him. She was--there was no other word for it--eerie. He wondered where she had come from, and what her 'extensive experience in defensive magic' entailed.

'Professor Hopkirk, furthermore, has asked to lead D.A. meetings this year, which will take place on Wednesday evenings between the hours of seven p.m. and eight p.m. for fifth years and above. Younger students who wish to participate must receive permission from their Heads of Houses.

'There are two other introductions to make, of course, and that is this year's Head Boy and Girl.'

'Oh, no,' Ron muttered, and his ears turned pink.

'Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, please stand.'

Hermione stood up, beaming. Ron didn't move until Hermione grabbed him by the collar of his robes and tugged. His face had gone red and he smiled sheepishly as the crowd of students applauded politely. All except Draco Malfoy, who, Harry had just noticed, was sitting at the far end of the table. Though he was seated between his housemates, he looked distinctly alone, and totally bored by the proceedings.

Ron and Hermione sat down and Ron quickly took a swig of pumpkin juice, staring down at his now clean plate.

'Finally, I have one more announcement to make. This...is not exactly easy for me to say.'

At this, there was silence. Harry's eyes shot up to Dumbledore. The old Headmaster took a deep breath, appearing to steady himself.

'I have been Headmaster of this school for many, many years, and a teacher here before that, and in all that time I have taken great joy in watching students pass through this school, year after year, meeting the challenges and rewards of a magical education and moving on into the world to make their mark in it.'

He took another breath, and Harry felt his hands clench the table.

'The past few years at Hogwarts,' Dumbledore continued, 'have been...especially challenging. Not only for students, but for the staff as well. Last year, in particular, we faced a great tragedy that touched the lives of most of us here in this room.'

Harry let out a breath and his eyes skipped over to Daphne, who was watching Dumbledore with tear-filled eyes.

'I have...always sought,' said Dumbledore, 'to be the best Headmaster I could be and, I dare say, I am proud of what I have achieved. I am proud of what you all have achieved. But there comes a time when...every man realizes that he has done all he can, and that it is in the best interest of those he leads...to step aside.'

Harry looked up at Dumbledore again and felt his stomach plummet.

'I wish to announce my...formal retirement...as Headmaster of Hogwarts School,' Dumbledore went on, his voice shaking just slightly. 'The Board of Governors has accepted my decision, and my retirement is...effective as of tomorrow morning.'

Uproar. Harry barely heard the voices around him as Dumbledore's eyes met his. It couldn't be. Dumbledore couldn't...he mustn't...

Dumbledore gave Harry a sad smile, and in that moment, Harry felt liked he'd been punched in the stomach.

'Quiet, please,' Dumbledore called, lifting his arms. 'The Board of Governors, with my recommendation, has chosen to elect Professor McGonagall to fill the position of Headmistress. She has served in the position of Deputy Headmistress with distinction for some time now, and has already twice served as Acting Headmistress, and she has been a most trusted and capable colleague. Would you please bestow your congratulations on the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor Minerva McGonagall.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was only vaguely aware of walking to Gryffindor Tower. As students all about him chattered and whispered about Dumbledore's retirement, Harry could only dwell in a cone of shock. The pounding in his head was the only thing connecting him to what was happening around him.

Upon reaching the common room, Harry flopped into his favourite chair near the fireplace, and stared at the flames. Nobody approached him, and in the midst of the murmurs and drone of voices, Harry heard Ron and Hermione talking to the first years. He heard the clomping of feet on stairs as the younger Gryffindors headed upstairs to their dormitories, and saw, in his peripheral vision, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, Neville and Ginny all take seats near him, by the fire.

Nobody spoke until the common room was empty of younger students.

'Fancy that about Dumbledore,' said Dean. 'Not that my parents would know or anything but...I get _The Daily Prophet_ and there wasn't anything in there about this.'

'Was it a last minute decision, do you think?' said Lavender.

'I doubt it,' said Hermione, walking over to the sofa with Ron, where they both sat down. 'Maybe he dropped it on the Board of Governors at the last minute but...he must have been thinking about it all summer.'

'He looks so old, doesn't he?' said Parvati. 'And after what happened last year...no wonder he wants to call it quits.'

'He's not quitting,' said Ron at once. 'He's just...handing over the reins to McGonagall. He'll still be around. He's staying at the school, at any rate.'

'I can't believe Snape is Deputy Headmaster,' Seamus groaned. 'As if he didn't make our lives difficult enough.'

'Why not Flitwick or Sprout?' Ginny agreed. 'At least they're, I dunno, FAIR.'

'Stupid Board of Governors,' Seamus grumbled.

'Harry, are you okay?' Hermione asked suddenly. Harry's eyes snapped up and he looked at Hermione.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'Just...taking it all in, I guess.'

He felt the pounding in his head grow stronger. For a brief instant he wondered if his headache had something to do with Voldemort, but just as quickly he dismissed that idea. No, this was a perfectly ordinary, garden variety, throbbing headache.

'Well,' said Dean, stretching out his long legs across the coffee table, 'interesting start to the year, as always. How about the new Dark Arts teacher, eh? Nice looking bird, that one.'

'Excuse me, did you call her a "bird"?' said Hermione hotly. 'She is a professor, thank you.'

'Sorry,' said Dean, holding up his hands. 'Anyway, the new _professor_ is quite good looking.'

'Yeah,' said Neville, 'but, does anyone else think she's a bit...spooky?'

'Yeah,' said Harry at once. 'I do.'

'I noticed that, too,' said Parvati at once. 'She doesn't walk like a normal person, does she?'

'And when she walked past me, I got a chill,' said Lavender. 'It was creepy.'

'There's no color in her face, did you notice?' said Ginny. 

'Maybe she's a vampire,' said Seamus.

'Oh, honestly,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

'Whatever she is, she's...' Ginny began.

'Eerie,' said Harry.

'Exactly,' said Ginny, meeting his eyes, and for the first time in hours, she smiled at him.

Harry felt a rush of warmth in his blood and smiled back. Apparently she wasn't upset at him anymore, and he was very grateful for this. But then he thought of Dumbledore again, and his gloomy mood returned.

'Much as I would love to ruminate on which community of species our new professor belongs to,' said Dean, 'I'm knackered, and I'm turning in.'

'Me, too,' said Seamus. 

And with that, everyone stood up and started to filter upstairs. Seamus and Lavender had a few quiet words at the foot of the girls' staircase, but Harry was relieved to see Seamus kiss her quickly and go up the spiral staircase alone. Neville said goodnight and followed quickly on the heels of Seamus.

Harry stretched his back, and Ginny followed suit, and Harry tried not to look at her when she did.

He looked anyway. Nope, the robes did nothing to hide the curves and swell of her bosom.

'Well,' said Ron, and Harry jumped.

_Shit. He didn't just catch me looking at Ginny's chest, did he?_

'We're...uh...turning in,' Ron said, and the tips of his ears went pink.

'Okay,' said Harry, confused. 'See you upstairs, then--'

'No, actually,' said Hermione, and her cheeks were pink. 'Um, we...we haveourownrooms...' Her voice dropped and trailed off.

'Excuse me?' said Harry.

'They have their own rooms,' said Ginny. 'Part of the privileges of being Head Students.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and then he noticed that both Ron and Hermione were blushing furiously. 'Oh,' Harry said again.

_Lucky bastards. They don't even have to sneak around anymore to have a shag!_

'Well...good night,' said Hermione, in a too-bright voice, and she quickly pecked Harry on the cheek and hugged Ginny.

'G'night, mate,' said Ron, and he grabbed Harry's hand and shook it, but looked determinedly at the far wall behind Harry's head.

'Gin,' Ron said, giving his sister a quick hug.

The two of them started toward the portrait hole.

'The rooms aren't in the tower?' Harry asked.

'No, they're a few floors down,' said Hermione, her cheeks still pink. 'They're centrally located to all the four houses.'

'Really?' said Ron.

Hermione gave him a look, shook her head, and headed out the portrait hole, calling out a last 'Good night' to Harry and Ginny.

Ron turned and smiled sheepishly at the two of them and followed his girlfriend out.

'Makes you wonder,' said Ginny, as the portrait of the fat lady closed behind Ron. She moved closer to Harry and he felt his pulse quicken. He caught her scent, that delicious vanilla scent, and he could feel warmth radiating off her.

_Bloody hell._

'Makes you wonder what?' said Harry, his voice croaking a bit.

'How many times the beds in those rooms have been christened,' said Ginny, 

'Don't really want to think about that, Gin,' said Harry, smiling at her tiredly.

'Sorry,' said Ginny, and then she grinned mischievously. 'You know, Harry, your parents were Head Boy and Girl--'

'Don't even go there, Ginny, unless you want me to go on about your parents.'

'Touché,' she said, smiling, and she looked up into his eyes.

_Oh, shit._

For a moment neither of them said anything; Harry found himself pulled into her gaze, and for the first time he noticed just how beautiful brown eyes could be. Except that hers weren't brown. Not pure brown. They were amber and gold and chocolate all at once. 

'Are you okay?' she asked suddenly, and he blinked.

'What?'

'Are you okay?' she repeated. 'About...Dumbledore, I mean?'

'Oh, that,' said Harry, and he looked away for a moment. 'I...I dunno. I mean...he's so old now and...he'll still be here, won't he? Not like he's going to retire in Tahiti or something.'

Another brief silence.

'But?' said Ginny, her voice prompting him.

'Tonight I...I realized for the first time that...that he won't be always be around,' said Harry, and he felt his throat constrict. 'Someday...he won't be around at all.'

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his face screwing up in pain as his head continued to pound.

'Headache?' Ginny asked.

Harry opened his eyes. 'Yeah,' he said, rubbing at his temples.

Before he could stop her she'd taken his wrists in her small hands and lowered his hands to his sides. She placed one hand on his shoulder and reached up with the other to press it against his forehead...

'Ginny...don't,' Harry said, taking her right hand in his. He lowered her hand gently.

'It'll help you,' she said firmly, and she lifted her hand, only to have him take her wrist again.

'I thought Empaths could only take away...emotional stuff,' said Harry.

'You're upset,' said Ginny. 'That's why you have a headache in the first place.'

'True,' Harry admitted.

'All right, then,' and she moved to touch his forehead again. He stepped back.

'It hurts you,' said Harry. 'I know it does. I don't feel right...knowing that you curing me...causes you pain.'

'It only hurts a little,' said Ginny. 'As long as I'm in control it doesn't hurt me that much. And anyway, I'm in training here. I sort of need the practice and I don't feel like using just anyone as my guinea pig.'

Harry laughed in spite of himself.

'That sounds a bit like a bribe,' he said, and he winced as the throbbing in his head grew stronger.

'I prefer to call it reciprocity,' said Ginny.

'Big word,' said Harry.

'Yes, it is,' said Ginny. 'Now shut up.'

And before he could move she took her left hand and placed it on his shoulder, and pressed her right firmly against his forehead. She closed her eyes. Harry watched her, fascinated. Her eyelids fluttered and he noticed her eyelashes, which were darker than Ron's; her lips were slightly parted and she took another breath.

It was then that Harry felt, for the first time, a true taste of her power. For a brief moment his mind was empty, and there was nothing but whiteness in front of his eyes, and then, a flood.

His mind was flooded with a feeling of contentment and...an image. A brief but recognizable image: the feast at the end of second year. 

He felt the tension in his skull vanish. Ginny gave a wince and yanked her hand away. For a moment her face was stretched in pain.

'Ginny, are you okay?' he asked, but his voice felt thick, slow.

'Fine,' she said, and her face cleared and she relaxed. 'I'm fine.'

'Wow,' he said, his own mind coming back into focus. 'I...that's incredible.'

'A work in progress,' said Ginny.

Harry blinked; he felt lighter than he had all day, as light as the moment when he'd kissed Daphne.

He felt his cheeks flame as Ginny looked at him.

'Are you okay?' she asked. 'That wasn't too much, was it?'

'No,' said Harry, not having a clue what she meant by "too much".' And suddenly he was curious again, curious...about Draco...

'Ginny...' he asked, taking a step toward her.

'Yes?' she asked, and her voice changed. It became thin, airy.

'I was just...wondering...' he stammered.

Bloody hell. How could he possibly put the question he wanted to ask her?

_Yeah, so, I was just wondering what sort of favor or favors you did for Malfoy in order to make sure he kept his mouth shut about your powers._

'Never mind,' said Harry. 'Thanks. I...I needed that.'

'You're welcome,' she said. 'Well, good night.'

'G'night,' he said, looking into her eyes again.

She smiled softly and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

Except that at that very moment, Harry was overcome with the impulse to kiss her cheek, and he turned, and before he knew what was happening, her lips brushed against his.

She pulled away quickly, blushing so red he could see it in the dying firelight.

'Sorry,' she said.

'Sorry,' he said. 'Missed.' He looked into her eyes again.

_Stop doing that! That's what gets you into trouble._

_I can't help it!_

'Oh, me too,' she said quickly. 'I wasn't really aiming...for...'

Her voice trailed off as she looked at him. His eyes were on her lips.

'Ginny,' he heard himself say. No, croak.

'Harry,' he heard her say. No, murmur.

Harry wasn't really sure how it happened. Some invisible force, like a hand in the small of his back, propelled him toward Ginny, and he felt his hands go up, as if being pulled by strings, and cup the sides of her face. She gave a little gasp before his lips sealed over hers.

Thunder clapped in his head as she tilted her head and slanted her mouth against his; her arms went round his neck and he felt his lips open and his tongue moved into her mouth, seeking and tasting. He felt the press of her breasts, those magnificent breasts, against his chest, and a moan came from the back of his throat as the blood rushed to his groin. His trousers only pinched him more when he heard her whimper against his lips.

_What are you DOING, Potter? This is Ginny!_

_Damn right it is, and she kisses like a bloody genius..._

He was lost in sensation, lost to everything, he was drowning in a distant sea and didn't want to be pulled back in, when suddenly he felt a sharp, searing pain along his scar. It radiated outward and squeezed his head, his face, his mouth...

Suddenly it was gone, and at that moment Ginny squeaked and pushed him away, hard. Her hands flew to her head and she trembled violently.

'Ginny,' Harry panted, alarmed and afraid. He was cold, so very cold, but she was shaking and clutching her head, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. He took a step toward her, reaching out a hand to touch her...

'Don't,' she gasped. 'Don't...'

She backed away from him, her eyes finally lifting to meet his, her face still tight with pain, her eyes huge and fearful.

'Ginny,' Harry said, and now he was really scared. 'What's the matter?'

'I'm sorry,' she said, and her voice, her face, were terrified. 'I didn't mean...I shouldn't have...I'm sorry!'

And before he could stop her, she turned in a swirl of black school robes and raced up the girls' staircase.

Harry stared after her, his heart pounding. His mouth still tingled from kissing her, and he felt the faintest throbbing in his head.

He looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking, just slightly. He took a deep breath to still them, and without really thinking about it, his feet propelled him up the boys' staircase to the seventh year dormitory.

As he crawled into bed a short while later, his heart still hammering, it occurred to him that perhaps he ought to feel a little bit guilty, not only for kissing Ginny, but for kissing her on the same bloody day as he'd kissed Daphne. It occurred to him, too, that were he anyone else, he might feel pretty damn proud of himself for kissing two pretty girls in one day.

But as he pulled up the covers to his chin, trying desperately to get warm, he didn't feel guilt. He felt only apprehension.

What had happened? What had she done? One minute they were kissing and the next...

Harry shuddered. Ginny's powers were obviously stronger than he realized, and it scared him. But what was more unnerving was that, in the moments after they'd kissed, she'd been frightened...of herself.

_____________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Well, you asked for some fluff, and you got...a little of it. Don't worry, Ron and Hermione still need to, er, christen their rooms.**

**In the meantime, I hope this chapter did not disappoint, or overwhelm, and I hope I made up for my...ahem...week off...by giving  you three long chapters in as many days. I almost certainly won't be this productive in the foreseeable future, I'm afraid.    **


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Professor Hopkirk

_Chapter Seventeen: Professor Hopkirk_

Ron's plan, to get him and Hermione quickly settled in their rooms before taking Hermione to his room and peeling off every layer of her clothes and shagging until neither of them could walk, was thwarted almost at once when Hermione announced that they had to do patrols first.

'Patrols?' Ron said, appalled. 'Now? We just got here!'

'Ron, we're Head Boy and Girl,' Hermione groaned. 'Patrols are a part of the job.'

'But…but…' Ron protested weakly. 'I wanted to…'

The protest died on his lips when he saw the look on Hermione's face. They therefore went to their rooms, alone, to get settled in. The rooms were in a small corridor that looped off the main corridor on the fourth floor. Ron entered his room, using his wand to unlock the door. Dumbledore's letter, that listed all the new rules, also contained instructions for setting a password for his room; Ron read the instructions carefully and performed a Locking Charm and chose a password: Chocolate Frog. 

He then gave a cursory glance at his new living space. It wasn't a huge room, but he had his own bathroom and a nice big bed and a comfortable looking desk. His trunk and Pigwidgeon's cage were already set up for him; Pig was sleeping soundly, with his tiny head tucked into his wing.

Ten minutes later he met Hermione in the main corridor, and they set off on patrols. For roughly a nanosecond Ron considered pulling Hermione into a corner somewhere and snogging her until she was breathless, but he immediately abandoned the idea. She'd be furious, and Ron couldn't get away from the fact that the patrols, however annoying, were necessary now. After what had happened last term, nobody could afford to be too careful.

They patrolled in silence, passing Aurors and prefects as they moved through the corridors, up to the towers and down to the dungeons. All told, it took them almost two hours. It was near midnight when they headed back to the fourth floor and found the Head Boy and Girl's corridor.

They came to Hermione's door first. She muttered a password that Ron couldn't quite hear, and her door clicked open. Before she went inside she turned and looked up at him and gave him…that look. That soft, doe-eyed look of hers that made him melt and feel excited all at once.

He started to say something--he wasn't really sure what, it was always difficult to talk when he was suddenly turned on--but then she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him firmly.

'Do you want to--' she murmured against his lips.

'Yeah,' he gasped, and he felt her pull him through her door--

_ZAP!_

'OW!' Ron yelped, and he leapt back from her door. 'What the bloody hell--'

'Oh...oh, no,' Hermione groaned. 

'Don't tell me,' said Ron, as realization clunked in his brain. 'Your room's jinxed against guys entering.'

'I thought I'd fixed that!' she said angrily, and she put her hands on her door, on the door frame itself. 'I could have sworn...' She pulled her wand from her robes.

'Forget it,' said Ron. 'Let's just...go to my room.'

He tried not to consider whether his room might be similarly jinxed against girls entering.

'Wait,' said Hermione. 'I can fix this. Just a second...' She eyed the door carefully, and then made an elaborate motion with her wand and muttered something Ron had never heard.

There was a brief red glow on the door and the door frame, and then it faded. Hermione walked through the door.

'Try again,' she said, smiling softly and holding out her hand.

_Bloody hell, she looks so yummy when she does that_.

'Okay,' said Ron, and he reached to take her hand, moving his hand past the door frame into her room--

_ZAP!_

'Ow!' Ron snarled, yanking his hand away from her. Whatever spell it was that was guarding her room had a very nasty sting. He looked at his hand and saw that it was red.

'Well...dammit!' Hermione hissed angrily. 'This is ridiculous. There has to be some way I can--'

'Hermione,' said Ron impatiently, struggling to keep his voice down, 'can we please just forget it and go to my room?'

'But Ron, I know I can fix this, just give me a few minutes to--'

He silenced her by kissing her, deeply and slowly. He felt her melt against him.

'Let's...go to your room,' she murmured, when he pulled away at last. Her lips were swollen and pink and her eyes were dark.

'Good idea,' he said, grinning, and he took her hand, crossing his fingers that she could get inside.

His room wasn't all that far away, just down the hall about fifty feet. He tried not to run, but honestly, it was difficult not to; by now his trousers were killing him and the anticipation of getting Hermione naked was driving him mad.

They reached his door and Hermione bit her lip as Ron took out his wand, muttered the Unlocking Charm, and then his password. The door clicked open.

He went inside first; she didn't follow. He turned to see her standing in the corridor, a look of apprehension on her face.

'Come on,' he said. 'I'm sure...there's nothing there. They don't jinx the boys' dormitories so why bother with the Head Boy's room, right?'

'I don't fancy getting a shock,' she said.

'Hey, I got two,' said Ron. 'Small price to pay, as far as I'm concerned.'

'Honestly,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes and smiling. 'Is there anything a boy won't do to get a shag?'

'Hermione, please,' Ron begged. 

'I'll just...try with my hand first,' she said, and she reached up and slowly, slowly--way, way TOO slowly--extended her hand toward the threshold of his door. Ron held his breath.

_Please, please, please let her be able to come in here. I really don't fancy wanking alone._

She squeezed her eyes shut and reached across the threshold of his door.

And nothing happened.

She opened her eyes to find that her arm was half inside his room, untouched, and there were no alarms or electric shocks.

'Thank god,' said Ron, and he moved toward her and started to pull her into the room, but then he stopped. 'Wait, I just thought of something.'

'What?' said Hermione. Ron gently pushed her back into the corridor; he looked up and down the corridor in both directions.

'Ron, what are you doing?' said Hermione, with an edge of impatience in her voice.

'Sorry, just checking,' he said, and he looked down at her and grinned. 'I've always wanted to do this.'

'Do wha--Ron!' Her question dissolved into a squeal and a giggle as he scooped her up in his arms.

'Shh!' he scolded, before sealing his lips over hers. She wrapped her arms round his neck and let him carry her into his room. She began to giggle between kisses as he kicked his door shut behind him with a flourish; it locked and sealed on its own. He started toward his bed, which looked huge and inviting. 

They stopped kissing for a moment and he grinned.

'Is this the part where you throw me on the bed and ravish me?' Hermione said, her voice light and teasing.

_Oh, bloody hell. I love this girl._

'Do you want me to?' he asked, his voice suddenly a bit croaky.

'I think I do,' she murmured, against his lips.

'Game on,' he said, and he started to toss her onto the bed when she gripped him about the neck hard.

'Wait!' she said.

'What?'

She pulled her wand from her robe pocket and aimed it at the door and did a Silencing Charm. Ron felt his face flame. He hadn't realized a Silencing Charm would even be needed in this situation. The walls seemed so thick in this room. He couldn't help but grin.

'Are you planning on being noisy?' he asked.

'That all depends on how good you are, Mr. Weasley,' she said, and her voice...good lord...sounded almost like...a purr.

'Bloody hell,' he groaned, and he tossed her onto the bed. She gave a squeak and he fell onto the bed on top of her, catching himself on his arms to keep from crushing her, but effectively pinning her with the weight of his lower body.

They had barely started kissing when he decided she was wearing entirely too many clothes. He yanked at the clasp of her robe and broke it.

'Ron...' Hermione gasped. 'Don't tear it--'

'I'll fix it later,' he said, silencing her with another kiss. 

Their hands yanked and fumbled at cloth and they rolled around in a mad struggle to rid themselves of their clothes; the clothes were gone in a matter of seconds, in a heap on the floor, and Hermione barely had time to perform the Contraceptive Charm before he was moving inside her, almost sobbing at the exquisite sensations he felt. She moved with him in an intoxicating rhythm and their lips met again and again, muffling their soft cries. She shifted beneath him and pulled him closer, deeper, and it wasn't long before she was trembling beneath him, breathing her release into his skin. And still she clung to him, and the heat that had been coiling inside him unfurled into her in waves, and it was the most brilliant thing in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They held each other for a while. Ron knew at some point she'd have to go back to her own room, but he was in no hurry to let her go just yet. He'd not had a chance in what felt like forever to just lie there with his girl in his arms, and he intended make the most of this.

And yet, as they lay there quietly in the dark and his eyes took in the shape of the room, the contours of its simple furniture, the dim, weak light emanating from the bathroom, Ron felt just a bit…off. He knew it had nothing to do with Hermione. It was two words, a concept, that was only now beginning to hit him.

_My room.___

Not his and Harry's (and Neville and Seamus and Dean's) room. His own room. For six years Ron had fallen asleep almost every night with his best friend in the next bed. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they played chess. Sometimes they didn't say anything. But Harry was nearly always there (except those nights when he'd snuck off to be with Susan). And Ron was nearly always there, too. And now…Ron would sleep in his own room, and he knew there would be some nights he'd have to sleep alone. Even with the privacy afforded to him and Hermione, he knew there would have to be a limit to them sharing a bed through the night. If either of them were ever caught, it would be disastrous. 

But there it was. The idea of sleeping alone in a room in Hogwarts, when Ron knew he was supposed to be in the dormitory with his mates; he was supposed to be there in case Harry ever woke up in the throes of another horrifying vision. Who else but Ron knew, really, how to deal with that?

And suddenly, the idea of having his very own room seemed just a bit less attractive to him. 

Hermione must have sensed something, because he felt her shift and lift her head from his chest.

'Ron?' Her voice was soft in the darkness.

'What, love?'

'You're thinking about Harry, aren't you?' she said.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'Is that weird, to be thinking of him…now?'

'No,' said Hermione, and she put her head on his chest again. 'I'm thinking about him, too. About how things will be this year.'

'I just…what if he has another nightmare or something?' said Ron. 'I don't feel right…not being there. You know?'

'I know,' said Hermione. 'Ron…maybe you should talk to Neville about this.'

'Neville?' said Ron, confused. 'Why?'

'Well,' said Hermione, 'someone has to help Harry if he has another vision. Why not Neville? He's been through so much with us, he's really trustworthy, and he and Harry get on well. I think Neville could handle it. And he said he wanted to help Harry, remember?'

'I couldn't talk to Neville without talking to Harry first,' said Ron.

'No, you couldn't,' said Hermione. 'And talking to Harry about this…well, you know how he gets.'

'We both know,' said Ron. 'But…you're right. Someone has to be there for him and…if it can't be me, then Neville makes the most sense.' He let out a breath and felt his spirits sag.

'Ron, it's okay,' said Hermione, leaning up on her elbow and brushing a fringe of red hair off his forehead. 'You'll still be there for Harry, even if you're not in Gryffindor Tower. And Harry knows that.'

'You really think so?'

'I know so,' said Hermione firmly, and she lay back as his hand began to trace lazy patterns over her smooth belly. She smiled up at him, and it melted him inside, and he decided to push away the bad stuff for now and think about it tomorrow.

'What?' she asked.

His hand continued to move over her tummy.

'Nothing,' he said. 'I just...I love you, that's all.'

'Hmm,' she murmured. 'Do you?'

He gave her a look. 'You know I do.'

'Show me,' she whispered. And then she smiled suggestively.

_She is such a contradiction. One minute all shy and proper, and the next minute just...naughty. I'm the luckiest bloke alive._

He grinned at her. 'I think I can manage that,' he said.

He kissed her mouth, and her neck, and then he kissed her lower than that, and his hand moved from her tummy, sliding beneath the covers, and he showed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione left his room just before dawn. His bed felt cold and empty without her, but he managed to get a few more hours of sleep before the day began in earnest. He dreamed of Hermione, and awoke about as aroused as he'd been last night. He shivered and remembered how the second time hadn't been rushed at all, no, it had been slow and languid and altogether magnificent.

_Bloody hell.__ I can still taste her..._

_No time for that, you horny bastard. Lessons start today, remember?_

He rolled his eyes and checked his bedside clock. No time for a wank. He thought of something thoroughly disgusting.

_Filch in a nightie._

The image worked. Ron showered and dressed and found that the entire time he had to think of disgusting things, because his mind kept wanting to wander to Hermione, to the way he'd run his tongue along...

_Down, boy!_

_Kreacher__ in that nasty loincloth.___

_Yuck. Most effective one you've come up with yet._

His stomach growled then, and he headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ron was just tucking into his bacon and eggs when Harry slid in to sit next to him.

'Hey,' said Harry, sounding tired.

Ron immediately looked him over.

'You look knackered,' he said.

'Didn't sleep well,' said Harry shortly. 'And before you ask, no, I didn't have any nightmares or visions. I just couldn't sleep.'

'Oh,' said Ron. 'Okay.' He took a bit of toast and then remembered something.

'Hey, whatever happened with Daphne?' he asked.

Harry said nothing for a moment, but his face flushed slightly.

'I asked her out,' he said.

'No kidding,' said Ron, trying to digest this information. 'Where are you taking her?'

'Picnic, on the grounds,' said Harry. 'First Hogsmeade visit is six weeks off, so...'

'Right,' said Ron. 'Well, cool. She seems nice enough. Good looking, too.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Very.'

At that moment Daphne came into the Great Hall with Blaise Zabini and another Slytherin girl Ron didn't know. She glanced at the Gryffindor table and caught Harry's eye, and smiled. He smiled back, and his eyes glazed over just slightly. Ron grinned.

'Is that all you did?' he said in a low voice. 'Ask her out?'

Harry's eyes were still on Daphne as she sat down next to Blaise. She smiled once more at Harry before turning her attention to the other Slytherin girl.

'We might have had a snog,' Harry muttered, fighting a grin.

'Excellent,' said Ron, grinning widely and pouring himself some coffee. 

'It was that,' said Harry, looking at Ron and smiling. A real smile. Ron's good mood increased. 

'Hey,' said another voice, and Ron and Harry looked up to see Neville sit down. 'Last year of school. Weird, isn't it?'

'Are you kidding?' said Ron. 'No more Snape after this year. I'd say that's a good thing.'

'True,' said Neville. 'But after Voldemort Snape doesn't seem so scary anymore.'

Ron and Harry stopped chewing their food and exchanged a look, and then looked at Neville, who went pale.

'Sorry,' he said. 'I...I shouldn't have brought it up.'

'It's okay, Neville,' said Harry at once. 'How are you doing with...you know?'

And it struck Ron right then that neither he nor Harry had bothered to ask Neville about this during the Apparition training.

'Okay, I guess,' said Neville. 'I mean...my gran was really proud of me and all, especially about...about...her.'

'Her' was Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch who'd tortured Neville's parents with the Cruciatus Curse until they had both lost their minds. Neville had killed her in the battle at the Riddle House. Ron watched Neville for a moment as the other boy pushed his eggs around on his plate. He wondered if Neville had nightmares about what he'd done.

_Like I have about Dolohov.__ Only, not as much as I used to._

Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Ron forcibly changed the subject. 'You never told us, Neville,' he said, 'whether you got your Apparition licence.'

'Oh!' said Neville, and he brightened considerably. 'I got it. First try, even. Only...' At this Neville lowered his voice and leaned in. 'Don't tell anyone but...I sort of splinched off a bit of a fingernail.'

'Did you?' said Ron.

'Yeah,' said Neville, and he grinned. 'But nobody noticed and...well...I sort of forgot to mention it.'

'Sneaky,' said Harry. 'Maybe you should be in Slytherin.'

Neville snorted. 'Not on your life. That lot? No thanks.'

'They're not all bad,' said Harry, his eyes skipping over to Daphne again.

'If you say so,' said Neville with a shrug, and he took a bit of bacon. After a moment, he looked about the Hall.

'Where's Hermione?' he asked, and then he looked at Ron, and Harry followed suit. 

Ron felt his ears get a bit hot, and he tried to act casual as he shrugged. 'Probably in the library. You know how she is, first day of school and everything--'

But suddenly Hermione appeared in the Great Hall, and she practically ran over to the Gryffindor table, her hair flying. She sat down hard next to Ron and dumped her bag--overstuffed with books as usual--onto the bench next to her.

'I can't believe it!' she said breathlessly. 'First day of lessons and I overslept! Wonderful start I'm on, being Head Girl. Can't even wake up when I'm supposed to--'

'Keep your shirt on, Hermione,' Ron said, without thinking.

Hermione gave a squeak; Harry and Neville both sniggered.

'I mean...relax,' said Ron, glaring at both of them before he looked sheepishly at his girlfriend. 'You're not late. Lessons don't start for another twenty minutes.'

'I know,' said Hermione, 'but I wanted a bit more time to mentally prepare myself. N.E.W.T. classes this year are going to be so demanding and I really need to have all my wits about me if I want to do well--'

'Hermione, it is physically impossible for you to do badly in school,' said Harry. 'You've probably memorized every book at Hogwarts by now.'

'Not really,' said Hermione modestly, and Ron fought back a laugh. She tried hard to be humble where her intelligence was concerned, but she couldn't help but love it when people praised her for her smarts.

'Oh, dear,' she said, her eyes drifting up to the staff table. 'Dumbledore's not here.'

'He's not?' said Harry, and he looked up to find that, indeed, the Headmaster's chair was empty.

_Former Headmaster.__ He's retired now._

Professor McGonagall was sitting in her usual seat; somehow this didn't surprise Ron in the least. 

'Why do you need to talk to Dumbledore?' Ron asked. 'Something to do with Head Girl stuff?'

'No,' said Hermione, and at once her voice changed; she looked evasive. 'Just...some research I was doing.'

'Research?' Neville asked, intrigued. 'For what?'

'Extra credit,' said Hermione at once, and Ron knew she was lying. If he had to guess, she was probably doing more research on ways for Harry to kill Voldemort.

Ron shuddered. He didn't want to think about...that. Not on the first day of school.

'Hey,' said another voice. It was Seamus Finnigan; he and Lavender Brown sat down across from them and poured themselves some coffee.

'Did ye get a load of the schedules this year?' said Seamus, munching on some toast. 'Defence Against the Dark Arts is our first lesson, with the Ravenclaws.'

'Seamus is only excited about it because of the new teacher,' said Lavender, rolling her eyes as she sipped her coffee daintily. 'Honestly, you'd think he'd never seen a female before.'

'Not one like her,' said Seamus, grinning.

'Are we talking about the lovely Professor Hopkirk?' said Dean Thomas, as he sat down and began to eat his breakfast

'I still think she's creepy,' said Neville.

'I agree,' said Harry.

'Whatever she is,' said Ron, looking over his own schedule and unfolding it, 'she's got to be better than Snape. At least we're spared that agony until tomorrow--hey, what's this?'

Another small piece of parchment fluttered onto the table. He picked it up and looked at it.

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_Please report to my office at __7 p.m.__ this evening. I would like to meet with you, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom and Harry tonight to discuss something very important._

_Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. The password is Blood-Flavoured Lollipop._

'What is that, Ron?' Lavender asked.

'Nothing,' said Ron. 'Just a Head Boy and Girl thing.'

He passed the note to Hermione and gave Harry and Neville a look, which the other boys seemed to understand--they'd discuss it later. It was only then that Ron noticed Ginny wasn't in the Great Hall.

'Where's Ginny?' he asked.

Harry, who'd been sipping his orange juice, coughed and sprayed juice down his front.

'Are you okay, Harry?' Hermione asked, passing him a napkin.

'Fine,' he choked.

'Have you seen her, Harry?' Ron asked.

'Seen who?'

'Umbridge,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Ginny, you prat. Have you seen her?'

'No,' Harry croaked. 'Haven't seen her at all this morning. Haven't seen her since last night. I don't know where she could be.'

Ron eyed Harry for a moment. His face was flushed and his green eyes were darting every which way, refusing to meet Ron's. 

_What is going on? Lately I bring up Ginny and he starts acting all weird._

For a moment Ron debated whether he should push the issue, but decided against it. Not here in the Great Hall.

'I saw Ginny going into the hospital wing this morning,' said Dean.

'Hospital wing?' said Ron, alarmed. 'What's she doing there?'

'Dunno,' said Dean, shrugging, but his answer, too, seemed evasive and not entirely truthful. 'She didn't look sick or injured or anything.'

'Then why go to the hospital--' Ron began, but he stopped when he felt Hermione pinch his thigh, very hard. He winced and met Hermione's eyes; she was looking at him hard, and he understood.

It must have something to do with her...power. She said she was training with Madam Pomfrey, after all.

_There you go. That's all it is. No cause for concern._

And yet, as they all finished eating and gathered their books to go to class, Ron couldn't help but feel uneasy. Why were Dean and Harry both acting so weird about Ginny?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron, Harry, Hermione and Neville entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to find it already full. The boys were crowded up toward the front of the room, and the girls--all looking a bit disgruntled--were partnered up at tables near the back.

'Honestly,' Hermione grumbled. 'She's not THAT pretty.'

For a moment Ron was torn as to whether he should sit next to Harry or Hermione, but then Hermione nodded at Ron and flicked her eyes at Harry, and Ron sat next to Harry, as Neville took a seat next to Hermione. The classroom was filled with the buzz of chatter, but Ron didn't feel much like talking. He pulled out parchment and quill and ink. They had no textbooks as of yet, owing to the fact that, as usual, Dumbledore hadn't found a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher until the last minute. But then Ron noticed a tall stack of textbooks at the front of the room; he couldn't make out the title but he assumed those must be their textbooks.

Ron checked his watch and noticed that Professor Hopkirk was late. Odd. 

Not very professional behaviour, being late.

In the next instant Ron felt, rather than heard, the doors at the back of the room open. Everyone turned in their seats to see Professor Hopkirk stride...no, glide gracefully into the room. Once again she was dressed entirely in black, but this time she had no hat on to hide the bright strawberry blonde that was her hair.

As she moved toward the front of the room the eyes of every male in the classroom were glued to her. Ron's, too. He couldn't help it. She was too beautiful to be real. Almost as though she were a Veela. And yet, Veela were not so pale, their skin not so translucent.

Professor Hopkirk passed by Ron and Harry's table, and Ron felt it: a sudden, almost painful blast of cold wash over him. Just as quickly it was gone, replaced by a blast of sticky, uncomfortable warmth.

Ron glanced at Harry, and the look on his best mate's face told Ron that Harry had felt it, too. Ron looked at Neville and Hermione, and knew they'd felt it as well.

It was then that Ron felt another frisson of energy--neither cold nor hot--as Professor Hopkirk turned and faced the class. She was holding a wand in her left hand.

'Good morning,' she said, and her voice was impossibly low to belong to a woman, and yet it was distinctly feminine. 'Welcome to Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, N.E.W.T. level. I know who all of you are so there are no need for time-wasting introductions.'

She appraised the class coolly, her impossibly pale blue eyes--they looked like ice--scanning the room.

'I understand,' she said, picking up a piece of parchment from her desk, 'that Professor William Weasley was your teacher last year, and that you all were working on basic Occlumency, is that correct?'

Nobody said a word, but about half the class nodded. 

'Well, don't be shy,' said Professor Hopkirk sharply. 'Speak up.'

'Yes, ma'am,' came several overlapping murmurs.

She looked disappointed. 'Really,' she said. 'You call yourselves N.E.W.T. level students? I ask you a simple question and the lot of you behave as if you're a bunch of five year olds who've been caught with a broken lamp. Since when is telling me what you've learned a cause to look so guilty?'

Ron gulped.

'Speak up!' Professor Hopkirk snapped, smacking her wand on the desk and making the whole class jump. 'Were you in fact working on basic Occlumency with Professor Weasley last year?'

'Yes, ma'am!' the class shouted.

'That's better,' said Professor Hopkirk, and she smiled. 'Much better. If you wish to succeed in this class, I will expect not only superior work from all of you, but a lot more assertiveness. We are in the midst of a war, ladies and gentleman. We cannot afford to shrinking violets, now can we?'

Ron shuddered. Beautiful or not, this new teacher was scary. And not just because she was so pale she looked like she might almost be a ghost. And not just because whenever she moved, the temperature changed so drastically.

'This year,' said Professor Hopkirk, in a calmer, more even tone as she began to pace, 'will, of course, be your most demanding year.'

She paced back and forth across the front of the room, but as she spoke, her voice changed again, and it was low once more. Seductive. Ron shivered.

'In looking over the history of this class, I am concerned,' she went on, still clutching her wand in her left hand. 'There have been significant gaps in your education due to a lack of a steady teaching. Only half your professors--based on the notes given to me by Headmistress McGonagall--appear to have actually taught you anything useful, but the skills you have now are currently inadequate, not only for your exams, but for the dangers of the real world.'

She stopped in front of Neville and gave him a look that made him shudder visibly.

'Nervous, Mr. Longbottom?'

'N-no,' Neville lied.

'You're horrible liar,' said Professor Hopkirk, her decadent voice oozing like honey from her lips. 'A Death Eater would have no trouble successfully interrogating you, I imagine.'

Neville flushed, and he looked both embarrassed and angry. Ron felt a flash of anger as well. He was liking Professor Hopkirk less and less by the second.

Professor Hopkirk turned away from Neville and returned to her desk.

'Now,' she said, her voice sharp again. 'I understand that thus far, none of you save for Harry Potter are able to resist the Imperius Curse. This is unacceptable. We will have to get everyone up to speed there. I also understand that none of you have been taught the methods for safely dealing with the magical world's most dangerous creatures, Dementors notwithstanding. I will have to get all of you up to speed on that, as well. The Dark Lord's armies do not consist merely of Death Eaters, and the defensive magic you've learned up to now applies mostly only to them.'

She paused a moment, and her eyes swept over the room.

'What is the most effective way to kill a werewolf?' she asked suddenly, her voice piercing the quiet of the room.

Hermione gave a little gasp and Harry and Ron exchanged looks.

'Well?' Professor Hopkirk snapped. 

Hermione raised her hand.

'Yes, Miss Granger?' said Professor Hopkirk.

'A silver bullet or blade,' said Hermione, her voice just a bit timid.

'True,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'Silver is poisonous to werewolves. Unfortunately, if you're close enough to a werewolf to be able to use a blade, chances are you've already been bitten. And while there are wizards and witches who avail themselves of the use of guns--one of the better Muggle weapons--solid silver bullets are hard to come by and are expensive. Any other way, then, to kill a werewolf?'

Hermione raised her hand tentatively again.

'Yes, Miss Granger?' said Professor Hopkirk, smiling coolly. 

'There's a spell,' she said. 'But...it's restricted by the Ministry--'

'What spell is that, Miss Granger?'

Hermione swallowed. 'It's...it's a cutting spell--'

'The name, Miss Granger, the name,' Professor Hopkirk snapped. 'I'm quite sure you know it.'

'Caedere,' said Hermione. 'The Caedere Charm.'

'Very good, Miss Granger,' said Professor Hopkirk, her voice almost a purr. 'Ten points to Gryffindor.'

Ron shivered. 

_Somehow it's not so cool when SHE's giving the points._

'Do you know the incantation?' Professor Hopkirk went on, and she smiled. 'For another ten points.'

Hermione hesitated. Ron knew she had to know the incantation--Ron had yet to hear of a spell or charm or curse Hermione hadn't read about somewhere. Somehow, Ron didn't think Hermione's reluctance to answer the question was because she didn't know the answer.

'Miss Granger?' said Professor Hopkirk. 

'_Caedere__ venas argenteum_,' said Hermione at last. 'But the charm is restricted by the Ministry because it's so dangerous, and you don't even need it to stop a werewolf, you only need to Stun it--'

'That will do, Miss Granger,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'You've answered the question more than adequately. Another ten points for Gryffindor.'

'Th-thank you,' said Hermione, looking slightly appalled. Professor Hopkirk didn't seem to notice.

'Now,' the Professor said, 'obviously you haven't done any reading over the summer, because you lacked textbooks. I will remedy that right now. _Accio_ books!'

With a wave of her wand, the Professor summoned the stack of books, and then began to distribute them by levitating them to the tables in the room.

Two books landed in front of Ron with a thud.

'_Understanding the Origins and Methods of Dark Magic: A Practical Guide_,' Ron read. And then '_Beyond _Avada Kedavra_: The Ultimate Guide to the World's Most Lethal Charms, Curses and Hexes.'_

Everyone read the titles of their books and a collective gasp went up in the room.

'Professor,' said Hermione fretfully. 'These...these textbooks--they're restricted by the Ministry. They're not allowed to be used as school texts--'

'Miss Granger, I suggest you be quiet or risk losing all those generously awarded house points,' Professor Hopkirk snapped, and her eyes went ice cold. 'I am well aware of the Ministry's rules and regulations. Under normal circumstances, of course, these books would not be available to you as school texts. But seeing as we are at war, Miss Granger, I was allowed to make an exception. Unless...you prefer not to learn the most effective means of defending yourself...and your friends?'

She looked penetratingly at Hermione, who seemed to shrink into herself. Then Professor Hopkirk turned slightly.

She cast a long glance at Harry; he held her gaze for a moment, but then broke away with a visible shudder, looking down at his hands. Ron noticed a thin sheen of sweat on Harry's forehead. Then she turned her eyes on Ron.

Ron glared back at her defiantly. He didn't like her at all. Not one bit. And yet, as she looked deep into his eyes, he felt...something. Cold, and then that same weird, damp warmth, and suddenly he a drop of sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades. She was gazing at him with a frightening expression in her eyes. Frightening and...and blatantly erotic. She licked her lips and Ron felt a rush in his veins as his eyes followed the slow sweep of her pink tongue, and then he felt it: he was...aroused.

_Bloody fucking hell.__ This can't be happening. _

_She knows what she's doing. That sick cow. What is she up to?_

She looked away, and that feeling passed, but then Ron felt sick. Dirty. He wanted to take a long, cold shower and wipe her frightening, beautiful face from his mind. What had she just done?

Professor Hopkirk spoke, and her voice cut through the swirl of emotions in Ron's brain like cold steel.

'Today I'd like to devote to some reading,' she said, her voice brisk and snappish. 'Chapters one and two in Origins and Methods. Homework tonight will be an essay, two feet, on the development of one of the ten most common dark spells listed in chapter two; you are free to write about whichever spell strikes your fancy.'

Ron shuddered again as he opened his book. He exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked pale and nervous; Hermione glanced back at Ron with anxious brown eyes. He felt his stomach clench to think of what Professor Hopkirk had done, how she'd coaxed...that reaction from him. He smiled weakly at Hermione and willed the image of Professor Hopkirk from his mind, keeping his eyes glued to the pages as he read. But he felt her gliding around the classroom, watching them, because every time she passed, she left that blast of cold, followed by that sick, sexual heat, in her wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nobody talked about the Dark Arts lesson until lunchtime, and by then, it was the only thing any of the Gryffindor seventh years could speak of. Ron was grateful to put as much distance between himself and Professor Hopkirk as he could.

Ron, Harry, Neville and Hermione sat together, away from the rest of the Gryffindors. Ginny, having just completed Divination, joined them. She sat next to Neville and smiled weakly at Harry.

'Hey, Gin,' Ron said, as casually as he could. 'How are you?'

'Fine,' said Ginny shortly. 

'Dean mentioned he saw you going into the hospital wing,' said Ron.

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously, but she kept her voice even. 'Just had a quick meeting with her about a training session.'

'Training?' said Neville brightly. 'Oh, are you thinking of being a Healer, Ginny?'

'Something like that, Neville,' said Ginny, smiling at him. 'So how was the Dark Arts lesson?' 

Ron smirked--she was changing the subject. He let it slide.

'It was the weirdest bloody lesson I've ever had,' he said firmly.

'Don't swear,' Hermione interrupted. 'But...yes, it was weird.'

'Scary, more like,' said Neville. 

'I'll say,' said Harry, but he steadfastly didn't look at Ginny. 'What's the deal with these textbooks, anyway?'

'Highly restricted,' said Hermione irritably. 'Those aren't defense books. Those are books on using Dark magic.'

'Are you serious?' said Ginny. 'You really think Dumbledore or McGonagall would let Hopkirk teach us how to actually USE Dark Magic?'

'Maybe not either of them, but the Board of Governors might,' said Hermione darkly. 'After what happened last term? A third of the students aren't even enrolled in school anymore after that. The Board of Governors is in as much political hot water as the Ministry. They need to look like they're doing something.'

Ginny shivered slightly, and Ron remembered something.

'I almost forgot this,' he said. 'I got a note from Dumbledore this morning. He wants to see all of us in his office tonight at seven.'

'All of us?' said Neville. 'Me, too?'

'You, too,' said Ron. 'He said was important.'

'Damn,' said Harry. 'I was hoping to have a fly tonight.'

'We can have a fly after,' said Ron.

'Ron, you're supposed to work on prefect patrol schedules tonight, remember?' said Hermione. 

'I'll do it,' said Ron defensively. 'After I have a fly with Harry.'

'And your homework?' said Hermione. 'Were you two planning on fitting that in?'

'One day in school and she starts up on us,' said Ron, smirking at Harry and Neville. Neville blushed and smiled.

'Oh, really,' said Hermione. 

'Mind if I join you?' said Ginny, looking at Ron. 'Flying, I mean?'

She looked at Harry, and he looked at her, and they both flushed very red.

'Sure,' said Ron.

'Do you mind, Harry?' Ginny asked.

'No,' said Harry. 'Not a bit.'

Ron watched them for a moment, convinced more than ever that something was going on. But what, he couldn't say. 

'I wonder what Dumbledore wants,' Neville mused.

'Maybe he'll explain why he hired that...that woman,' said Hermione.

'What's so bad about her?' Ginny asked.

'She's just freaky,' said Neville. 'She...she walks by and it gets all cold, and then it gets...hot.'

'I noticed that last night,' said Ginny. 'That _is_ weird.'

'Yeah,' said Harry uncomfortably, and he shifted in his seat. 'What is that, anyway? Some kind of wandless magic?'

He looked at Ginny and he blushed again, and so did she, and she shrugged.

'Maybe,' Hermione mused, but her expression changed. Ron recognized it at once: she had an idea.

'What?' he asked.

She looked at her watch. 'I've got a half hour before Ancient Runes. I'm going to the library. I just thought of something. See you both in Transfiguration.'

She gave Ron a swift peck on the cheek and gathered up her books and was out of the Great Hall in a flash.

'One of these days I'm going to do a Total Body Bind on her so she can't do that anymore,' said Ron.

'Does what?' said Ginny absently.

'Comes up with a brilliant idea and then leaves before sharing it with us,' said Harry.

'Oh,' said Ginny, and she blushed again and looked down at her sandwich, but she wasn't eating it. Harry, too, looked very uncomfortable for some reason.

Ron groaned inwardly. Now he was positive there was something going on between the two of them, but based on the way they were acting, it didn't look good.

He felt himself sigh and turned his attention to his lunch, but he suddenly wasn't very hungry. His good mood had vanished, and it was only lunch time. And it was all the fault of that damn Professor Hopkirk. 

And somehow, Ron didn't think the day was going to get much better.

He wouldn't know, until that evening, how right he was.

____________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Finally, another chapter down. Yes, I am going slower. My apologies, but my life is very busy, and this story is proving to be difficult to write. I have so many ideas floating around in my head but then when I put them down on the computer screen, I realize that half of them suck. At this point I'm not going to promise more than one chapter a week. I'm sorry it can't go faster, but that's just how it's going to be, I'm afraid. :-(**

**_Caedere_**** means 'to cut' or 'to cut off'; _venas_ means 'veins'; _argenteum_ means 'silver.' I am not an expert with Latin; I'm not even a novice. I'm quite sure I've botched the grammatical structure and/or conjugation of the spell I invented for this story. In any case, you'll know more about this spell later one.**

**I hope the R/Hr fluff was satisfactory.**

**In any case, to answer a couple of questions:**

**I have no plans to make Harry a 'man-slut', but I do fully intend to explore the confusion, joy and agony of being a single, sexually aware seventeen year old guy full of hormones and surrounded by attractive girls. Harry, in other words, is going to sow his oats--just a bit--before he finds his true love. And finding his true love is not going to be easy, as I've already said.**

**Nobody likes Daphne! Well, okay, but I hate to be spoilsport--she really is a nice person, for a Slytherin. There's nothing nefarious about her at all. But there are a few things we don't know about her, yet, and those things will make a difference for Harry down the road.**

**Ginny's power: I am planning on going pretty deep with this; her powers have sinister implications that I fully intend to explore, so be warned. **

**Professor Griselda Hopkirk: She is my own creation, but the name Hopkirk is in OotP: Mafalda Hopkirk works in the Improper Use of Magic Office. Yes, in my story, the two women are related. As for Professor Hopkirk, I've dropped a couple of hints about her already, but I won't say what they are. Sorry. **

**One other thing: This site is COMPLETELY screwed up right now. For one thing, I've just spent the past three days clearing my e-mail box of a couple hundred e-mails. My reviews weren't showing up at all, and then suddenly my e-mail box was stuffed. Unfortunately, the site sent me about 50 copies of a review from farheen, another fifty from Lady Flame-er, another fifty from Weasley...**

**Anyway, thanks very much for all the reviews! Honest. It'd be nice if ff.net could sort things out. Which brings me to another screwy thing...**

**If you can't find my story under Ron/Hermione Rated R Romance subcategories, well...I can't either. But _Book of Morgan Le Fey_ is showing up, and if you click on the link to my author name, you can get to _Final Reckoning_ that way.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Dumbledore's Requests

_Chapter Eighteen: Dumbledore's Requests_

After the unnerving experience of his first Dark Arts lesson, the uneasy feelings inspired by Professor Hopkirk, and the awkwardness he felt with Ginny after all that had happened the night before, Harry approached his first Transfiguration lesson of the term with no small amount of relief. 

Just entering the classroom eased Harry's mind a bit--it looked the same as ever. Professor McGonagall was at the front of the room preparing what appeared to be an elaborate and complicated lesson, but Harry didn't mind this a bit; McGonagall might be demanding and strict, but at least she was THERE. At least something about school hadn't changed so drastically.

He, Ron and Hermione moved toward the front of the room to choose tables. Hermione hadn't said a word to Harry or Ron yet regarding her trip to the library. Either she'd found nothing of interest, or whatever she had found she felt was too important and complicated to go into at the moment. Harry couldn't imagine what she might have found out about Professor Hopkirk, and part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know. It was bad enough that she left him feeling clammy and unsettled. But that she could be so creepy and yet inspire any kind of sexual desire was what unnerved Harry the most. 

Seamus was already sitting with Lavender, and Parvati and Dean were sharing a table with Neville. Harry then saw several Slytherins enter. Almost at once he spotted Daphne, who smiled at him and then nodded to a table. Before Harry realized he was doing it, he was sitting next to her. 

Almost at once there were snorts from other Slytherins. Harry turned to see Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle all sitting together and glaring at them. Draco Malfoy sat with Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode--who looked even taller than she had only a few months ago--sat next to Blaise Zabini. All but Blaise regarded Harry with scowls; Blaise gave Harry a cool, not entirely friendly smile and nodded.

Harry nodded back; he was quite sure already that he didn't much like Zabini, but Daphne had mentioned that it was Blaise who made the peace offering to Ron and Hermione in the prefects' meeting on the train.

_Might as well be civil, I suppose._

Ron turned and nodded to Daphne before giving Harry a knowing grin as he sat next to Hermione; Hermione waved hello to Daphne, who waved back.

'Hi,' Daphne said softly to Harry, leaning in close. He caught a faint whiff of something floral.

'Hey,' he said, smiling at her and feeling his neck get hot. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail but a few wisps of dark blonde hair had escaped to frame her face and the nape of her neck, which he noticed just then was long and graceful. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch the skin at the nape of her neck, to feel the wisps of her hair. She looked exceptionally pretty, and he suddenly wondered if it was such a good idea to sit next to her; she might be distracting.

Professor McGonagall turned round in that moment and cleared her throat. She paused long enough for her eyes to widen, just slightly, as she took in the sight of Harry, seated willingly next to a Slytherin girl. McGonagall's thin lips pursed slightly, as though trying not to smile, and she spoke.

'Welcome to Advanced N.E.W.T. Transfiguration,' she said crisply. 'I trust all of you have completed your summer assignments. Please take them out for me to collect.'

There was a rustling of school bags and parchment. Harry fetched his essays and placed them on the table, and Daphne followed suit; that was when Harry noticed her hands: slender and elegant, with long, tapered fingers and neatly manicured but unpolished fingernails.

_Yes, she is definitely distracting._

They exchanged smiles as McGonagall summoned everyone's essays neatly forward and stacked them in a large box.

'You'll receive marks for your homework by the end of the week,' McGonagall said. 'If you'll turn your attention to the blackboard…can anyone tell me what I have written here?'

Harry couldn't imaging what the diagram on the blackboard entailed; only that it looked extremely complicated.

Hermione's hand went up.

'Miss Granger,' said McGonagall fondly.

'It's a diagram on Glamour Transfiguration,' Hermione said.

'Very good, Miss Granger,' said McGonagall. 'Five points for Gryffindor. Can anyone explain what Glamour Transfiguration is?'

Hermione's hand went up, along with a few others, including Daphne's.

'Miss Greengrass?' said McGonagall.

'It's a branch of Transfiguration that involves changing one's physical appearance,' said Daphne. 

'That's correct,' said McGonagall. 'Five points for Slytherin. Glamour Transfiguration is a difficult level of magic. While Glamour Spells are often used to improve one's physical appearance for the sake of vanity, Glamour Transfiguration has many uses in magical law enforcement. Aurors, in particular, are required to master basic Glamour Transfiguration as part of their undercover training.'

At this, McGonagall gave Harry a pointed look.

'Glamour Transfiguration is not to be confused with using Polyjuice Potion,' McGonagall went on. 'For one thing, a successful glamour spell does not 'wear off' as a potion does. It must be undone with a wand, either by the caster himself, or someone else. The most basic type of glamour spell typically involves changing one's eye color, or hair color, or both. More advanced Glamour Transfiguration, however, allows one to change one's height, weight, bone structure, and the like. One can improve one's vision for the purposes of disguise, negating the need for spectacles, for example.

'Today we will work on eye color. If I could have a volunteer for a demonstration…Mr. Longbottom? Step up to the front of the room, please.'

Neville gulped visibly and stood up, striding nervously to the front of the room.

'Stand here, please,' said McGonagall, indicating a spot about four feet away from her. 'Now,' she added, 'hold still and try not to blink. This won't hurt but it is a touch uncomfortable.'

Neville's eyes went wide with fear as McGonagall pointed her wand at him; she gave it a complicated wave and said _'Mutare oculatus suffuscum!'_

Neville gave a whimper as a beam of yellow light struck his blue-grey eyes. In the next instant, they were dark brown.

'Wow,' Seamus muttered, impressed. Neville was blinking furiously and his eyes were now full of tears that began to run down his face.

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson sniggered, and Ron and Harry both shot them dirty looks.

'Yes, that happens,' McGonagall said, casting her own cool glance at Draco and Pansy. 'Changes to the eyes result in heavy watering for the first minute or two as the eyes grow accustomed to the transformation. But there is no damage to the eyes when the spell is done correctly, and in this basic version one's vision does not change. How are you feeling, Mr. Longbottom?'

Neville, who'd taken a handkerchief from his robe pocket and was dabbing furiously at his eyes, gave a sheepish nod. 'Fine,' he managed, still blinking rapidly.

'Are you able to see?'

'Yeah,' he said, letting his eyes sweep about the room.

'Excellent,' said McGonagall. 'I'm going to undo the spell now. Again, hold still and don't blink. _Finite_.'

She waved her wand and a jet of reddish light passed over Neville's eyes; they reverted to their original color. Neville's eyes began to water again, but not as badly, and he recovered more quickly.

'Good show, Mr. Longbottom,' said McGonagall. 'You may sit down. As you noticed, the incantation I used contained three parts: the mutation itself, followed by which part of Longbottom's face I wanted to change, followed by the eye color. In the early stages of using Glamour Spells you will be using complete incantations. However, as you progress I will expect you to develop the mental focus and discipline to complete Glamour Spells with the wand movement and the simplest incantation. This portion of your study will move quickly. You will be expected to master all the most common and difficult Glamour Spells, and this material will indeed be covered heavily in your N.E.W.T.s. I expect everyone in this class to achieve no less than an E on this portion of study. Open your textbooks to page 482 and read the section on transfiguring eye color.'

For the next twenty minutes there was silence as everyone stared at the pages of their textbooks. Harry tried hard to absorb what he was reading but Daphne's floral scent--orange blossom--kept drawing his mind away from studying. Several times he found himself watching her read; she looked very serious and took several notes. He only stopped when she finally caught him at it; he blushed and quickly turned his eyes to page 482, but he caught Daphne smiling to herself out of the corner of his eye.

The remainder of class was spent on practicing the Eye Colour Change Spell; the wand movement was exceptionally difficult. Both Daphne and Hermione mastered it quickly--it was a graceful, loopy sort of wave that seemed tailor-made for a girl to do. In fact, as Harry looked round the room he noticed that the girls seemed to be the only ones able to do the wand movement really well. All but Millicent, whose wand movement was about as clumsy as those of Crabbe and Goyle. 

McGonagall then started moving about the room, asking each student to perform the spell on a partner. Hermione did it perfectly on the first try; Ron got it right on the second. Crabbe and Goyle blinded one another and got zero marks for the day, and had to be escorted by Theodore Nott to the hospital wing. Harry managed the spell itself but had difficulty with the counter spell--it took him three tries to get Daphne's eyes back to their original hazel color--and McGonagall gave him extra homework, in addition to the two foot essay on basic Glamour Charms.

Harry said goodbye to Daphne--who gave him one of her rather dazzling smiles as she left--and joined Ron, Hermione and Neville.

'McGonagall sure knows how to lay it on thick,' Ron grumbled. 'You'd think after last year…'

'If she didn't let us off the hook last term she's not going to start now,' said Hermione. 'And it's our N.E.W.T. year. Although to be honest, I am a little surprised she's given us so much work.'

'You're surprised about that?' said Harry incredulously.

'Well, she is Headmistress, don't forget,' said Hermione sagely. 'That takes a lot of time and energy, and she's not exactly a spring chicken anymore. Dumbledore wasn't teaching any lessons when he was Headmaster. All the work McGonagall gives us has to be graded, so she's really giving herself extra work on top of everything else.'

'Maybe McGonagall takes after you, love,' said Ron. 'The more work she has, the happier she is.'

'Cute,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes and smiling.

'Hey, Hermione, what did you find in the library, anyway?' Neville asked. 'When you went before your Ancient Runes class?'

'Oh,' said Hermione, and she went slightly pink in the face. 'Well…I can't go into it here but I've got a theory.'

'Which you plan on sharing with us, I hope,' said Ron.

'Tonight, after the meeting with Dumbledore,' said Hermione. 'And after we do homework and you do those prefect schedules, Ron.'

Ron and Harry exchanged glances and grinned.

'Okay, after homework and schedules,' said Harry.

'Speaking of schedules,' said Ron, 'when were you planning on holding Quidditch try-outs, Harry?'

'Oi, I forgot about that,' said Harry, groaning.

'You forgot?' Ron said, appalled. 'Hello, Harry, it's sort of important, you know, and you're the bloody captain--'

'Ron, honestly,' said Hermione. 'There are more important things than Quidditch.'

'I'm going to try and forget you said that, Hermione,' said Ron, eyeing Harry.

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' said Hermione, throwing up a hand in exasperation.

'Ron's right,' said Harry quickly. 'I can't believe I didn't think of it. This year's just starting off all weird and I can't get my head on straight. Let's do it Saturday afternoon. I'll put up some signs and book the pitch.'

'Good show,' said Ron enthusiastically. 'Hopefully we'll get some qualified people to come in.'

Harry nodded but said nothing else. The truth was, he hadn't really forgotten about Quidditch at all. Rather, every time he thought about it, he couldn't help but remember how the final match last term had ended, with Death Eaters and Dementors swarming the grounds, attacking, killing and maiming students, teachers and Aurors as they went. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's uneasy feelings continued through dinner, only this time his thoughts refocused themselves on the impending meeting with Dumbledore. Harry knew in his gut that the meeting would not be a happy one. 

The uneasiness he felt left his stomach unsettled, and he had to force himself to eat something. Halfway through the main course he felt a familiar chill pass through him, followed by a blast of heat: Professor Hopkirk strode past the Gryffindor table in a sweep of black robes, and took her seat at the staff table. In spite of her eerie presence, Harry found himself watching her.

At once Harry noticed that she spoke with none of the other professors. She ate her food with a bizarre combination of clinical precision--cutting her roast into perfect bite-sized pieces--and raw sensuality, closing her eyes as she chewed and licking her lips slowly after every bite. Her hands shook, but color slowly began to fill her cheeks as she ate. 

Harry was just about to tell himself to stop staring at her when her eyes met his. The ice-blue irises darkened and bored into his green ones, and she smiled, just slightly, without showing any teeth. Harry felt a rush of warmth in his blood and grimaced as he felt a pronounced stirring in his trousers. But unlike the pleasant tingling he'd felt when he'd kissed Daphne--and in the early moments of kissing Ginny--this arousal was nothing short of disturbing.

Harry looked away and shifted in his seat, feeling unclean. Dirty. And a bit sick to his stomach. When pudding arrived, he didn't eat any of it, and suddenly Harry very much wanted to go to Dumbledore's office; no matter how bad the meeting with him promised to be, it couldn't be as uncomfortable as sitting in the same room with Professor Hopkirk.

Harry left the Great Hall in advance of Ron, Hermione and Neville, and it was only then that he noticed Ginny wasn't there. He might have thought on this further, but as he left the Great Hall he bumped into Daphne.

'Ouch,' she said, as he collided with her.

'Sorry,' he said quickly, blushing. 'Sorry. I...wasn't paying attention.'

'Obviously,' said Daphne, but she was smiling at him. An instant later, however, her face turned serious. 'Are you okay, Harry?'

'I'm fine,' Harry said quickly. 'Just...not very hungry.'

'Daphne, are you coming?' said a male voice.

Harry and Daphne turned to see Blaise Zabini standing there with his arms folded.

'Potter,' he said coolly, nodding. 

'Hi, Zabini,' said Harry, keeping his voice as even as he could.

'Daph?' 

'You go on, Blaise,' said Daphne. 'I'll see you in the common room in a bit.'

Blaise said nothing for a moment; his vivid blue eyes darted from Daphne to Harry and back again, and then he finally nodded.

'Right,' he said. 'See you in a while, then.'

''Bye,' said Daphne, waving to Blaise; Harry gave the other boy a curt nod, which Blaise returned before he walked off in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

'Sorry,' said Daphne. 

'For what?' said Harry.

'I know it's...well, it's a bit awkward, what with...our history and all,' she said, blushing.

'I didn't know you and I had a history,' said Harry, grinning.

_Where the hell did that come from? Are you trying to be...smooth, Potter?_

'You know what I mean,' she said, blushing deeper. 'Blaise is trying.'

'I know,' said Harry, not really wanting to talk about Blaise Zabini. 'He's not so bad, I guess.'

'He'd probably say the same thing about you,' said Daphne. 'He's a bit protective of me, that's all.'

'Ah,' said Harry. 'Er, why?'

At this, Daphne went so red her face was the same shade as Ron's hair.

'Well...you see,' she said awkwardly, 'we...used to go out. Last year.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and now he REALLY didn't want to talk about Blaise Bloody Zabini.

'We broke up just before the summer holiday,' she went on. 'We decided we were better off just being friends.'

'Right,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair.

'Listen to me, blathering on about an ex,' said Daphne, giggling nervously. 'You don't want to hear about that.'

Not really, Harry thought. But instead he said, 'That's okay.'

'Are you...busy right now?'

'No,' said Harry at once.

'Do you want to take a walk outside?' she asked, looking a bit shy and entirely unlike a Slytherin.

'Sure,' said Harry. As they headed toward the doors leading out to the grounds, Harry checked his watch. An hour until the meeting with Dumbledore. 

_A lot can happen in an hour._

And Harry forgot completely about Professor Hopkirk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They talked for a while, about inconsequential things, as they walked about the edge of the lake. Harry learned that Daphne's family had all been Slytherins but for a great-great-great grandmother who'd been a Ravenclaw; Daphne joked, however, that she was destined for Slytherin, because green was her favorite colour and she'd grown up with a pet python named Nigel.

'Not really cuddly, then,' said Harry, shuddering at the idea of having a snake as a pet.

'Well, not soft and furry, anyway,' said Daphne, shrugging. 'But he was really affectionate. Only, you had to be careful about that because he liked to wrap himself round people and squeeze. And of course feeding time was never much fun, either. All those poor, cute little mice--'

'Er, you...don't need to elaborate on that,' said Harry, holding up his hand and grinning.

'Squeamish, Potter?' said Daphne archly. 'And here I THOUGHT you were a Gryffindor.'

'Let's just say I've never been a fan of snakes,' Harry said, looking away.

'Oh,' said Daphne, her tone suggesting that she understood. They walked a bit more in a slightly uncomfortable silence, and found themselves standing under the beech tree where he always came to study with Ron and Hermione. Where his father James had sat, ruffling his hair and trying to impress Lily Evans.

Harry sat down and looked out at the lake; the sun reflected off the water and made a dazzling trail of light.

Daphne sat next to him.

'Is this a favorite spot of yours?' she asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Do you mind?'

'No,' she said, smiling softly, and she moved a bit closer to him.

Harry felt his heart begin to pound, and he wondered if he'd get to kiss her again. Instead, he broke the brief silence by speaking.

'You know, I was almost a Slytherin,' said Harry.

Daphne stopped and looked at him.

'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, shrugging. 'The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin; it said I'd do well in there.'

'But it didn't put you in Slytherin,' said Daphne. 'Why not?'

'I asked it not to,' said Harry, flushing slightly. 

Daphne looked at him for a moment with narrowed eyes.

'Wise move,' she said finally, nodding. 'You're a Gryffindor if ever I've seen one.'

'Should I take that as a compliment?' he asked.

'Definitely,' she said. 'I'm glad you're not a Slytherin. I probably wouldn't like you as much.' She smiled softly at him and licked her lips.

'Yeah?' he said, feeling his neck grow hot and electricity surge up and down his spine as he unconsciously moved closer to her.

'Yeah,' she murmured, and she placed a cool hand against his cheek just before he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers.

She kissed him back, slowly, just moving her lips against his, and the tingling in his body increased as the blood pounded in his ears, and then he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his. She tasted of treacle tart.

It was a few minutes before they stopped; Harry's skin was burning from the inside out and his trousers were pinching him now, and he was grateful for his school robes. Daphne's face was flushed and her lips red and swollen, and she looked beautiful. Harry wished it was already Sunday, when he could spend the whole day with her and not worry about...

'Shit,' he said suddenly, looking at his watch. He leapt up and brushed grass from his robes.

'W-what?' Daphne said, confused, getting up as well.

'Sorry,' he said. 'I...damn. I've got to go.'

'Oh,' she said, biting her lip. 'Er, okay.'

'I don't want to leave,' said Harry quickly, taking her hands in his. 'I just...have a meeting and I'm late--'

'Okay,' said Daphne. 'I'll...see you in Potions, then.'

'Right, Potions,' said Harry, hating that he had to leave now and face...whatever he had to face in Dumbledore's office. 'I'll see you.'

He started to walk away when he remembered himself, and he turned and kissed her soundly for a moment, lingering a bit too long but unable to help himself.

He then took off for Dumbledore's office at a run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Ah, Harry, you've made it.'

Dumbledore sat at his desk, with Fawkes--looking a bit peaked (Harry thought perhaps a burning day was in the near future)--perched nearby. Harry tried to catch his breath--he'd forgotten how big the castle could be when he was trying to get somewhere quickly.

Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny were all seated already, along with a fifth person that Harry hadn't expected but whose presence instantly made sense: Luna Lovegood. Ginny looked tense and tired, but--Harry couldn't help noticing--she also looked very pretty, with her falling over her shoulders in copper waves.

All of them--including the portraits of the old headmasters and mistresses--were looking at him with narrowed eyes. Harry noticed that only Phineas Nigellus appeared to be asleep, and not altogether convincingly.

'Sorry, sir,' Harry panted. 'I...I was...'

_I was in the middle of a really good snog, so you can understand why I might be a bit late._

'It's quite all right,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'Your friends only arrived a few minutes ago, and we haven't started yet. Please...sit down.' He indicated a chair 

Harry did so, taking that moment to study Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt his stomach clench. Dumbledore looked older than ever. His skin was sallow, ashen, and dry as paper, and dark circles appeared under his blood-shot blue eyes; could he be ill? Harry didn't want to consider it.

'I'm sure you are all wondering why I've called you here,' Dumbledore said, and then Harry noticed just how weak the old wizard's voice had become. 

'Much has happened since last June,' Dumbledore went on. 'As you all are probably aware, the Ministry has been trying to track Voldemort's movements ever since the night he fled the Riddle House. According to a source in Bulgaria, that Voldemort spent some time there, recovering.'

'Meaning...he's no longer there,' said Harry slowly.

'I'm afraid not,' said Dumbledore. 'The source I speak of...he's a former Death Eater who has been acting as an informant for us. The information he gave us and the Bulgarian Ministry was initially believed to be reliable, but Voldemort managed to flee before the that ministry could act.'

'Initially believed?' Harry repeated.

'The informant...was not acting of his own volition,' said Dumbledore. 'He was arrested several weeks ago and was given a choice by the Bulgarian magical law enforcement--he could either go to prison or he could worm his way back into Voldemort's good graces and act as a spy against him.'

'Does the Bulgarian Ministry think...Voldemort found out what the informant was doing?' Ron asked.

'That is the fear, yes, on their side and ours,' said Dumbledore. 'Unfortunately, an informant who acts under duress more often than not proves to be less reliable than one who volunteers. More importantly, the informant has gone missing. Nobody has heard a word from him in almost a month. The Bulgarian Ministry has conducted a cursory investigation but...they are writing him off. They believe he's dead, at Voldemort's hand or on Voldemort's order.'

'Why only a cursory investigation?' Hermione asked, sounding affronted. 'Don't they care what happened to him? They forced him to work for them, didn't they? The least they could do--'

'The Bulgarian Ministry has its hands full,' said Dumbledore gently, lifting a placating hand in her direction. 'They are understaffed, overworked...not unlike we are here. There have several attacks in recent weeks by Death Eaters in Muggle communities. So far a dozen people have been killed and at least that many more tortured.'

'What?' Harry breathed. 'But...there was nothing about that in _The Daily Prophet_--'

'The Bulgarian Ministry is keeping the attacks quiet for now,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'They fear widespread panic and are doing all they can to avoid it.'

'But...but they can't keep it secret for long,' said Ginny. 'Not if the attacks continue.'

'No, they can't,' said Dumbledore. 'But...it is these attacks that are preventing the Bulgarians from devoting their attentions elsewhere. They don't have enough Aurors to spare to go searching for one man, particularly one they are quite sure is dead by now.'

'But what if he isn't?' said Hermione urgently. 'He could have run away, he could be in hiding, maybe he knows something--'

'I'm inclined to agree, Miss Granger, that this is a possibility,' said Dumbledore. 'As does Madam Bones. She has asked permission from the Bulgarian Minister of Magic to conduct a more thorough investigation and search for the missing informant, using one of our people.'

'Forgive me, sir,' said Ron hesitantly, 'but...what does that have to do with us?'

'Your brother Charles is the one doing the investigating,' said Dumbledore. 'He was already in Bulgaria on assignment with the Order. He has some contacts there and throughout Eastern Europe.'

'Charlie?' said Ron, with a look on his face that suggested he didn't like this bit of news at all. 'But...well, he's not exactly inconspicuous, is he?' Ron indicated his bright red hair.

_Yes, a freckled redhead would probably stand out in a country full of olive-skinned, dark haired people._

'I believe you are currently beginning study of Glamour Charms in your Transfiguration Lessons,' said Dumbledore. 'Your brother is quite skilled with those.'

'It sounds really dangerous,' said Ginny nervously.

'It is,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'I won't lie to you about that.'

Ginny and Harry exchanged glances; worry was written all over her face, and she bit her lip.

'Does anyone know when this informant went missing?' Hermione asked.

'The Bulgarian Ministry last heard from the informant on 30 July,' said Dumbledore.

'Four days before Lucius Malfoy's trial,' said Hermione.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'The coincidence is rather glaring.'

'Why didn't Charlie say anything about this?' Ron demanded. 'Do Mum and Dad know?'

'They do now,' said Dumbledore. 'This was only agreed upon yesterday, and the news came to your parents today. They're not happy about it, but it was Charlie's decision to make. He hasn't told anyone else because it is necessary to keep this a secret.'

Harry was only half-listening to Dumbledore when something clunked in his brain.

'The informant,' he said. 'Is it Karkaroff?'

Dumbledore looked at Harry with raised eyebrows for a moment, and Harry knew he'd guessed correctly. But Dumbledore said, 'I'm afraid I am not at liberty to discuss that, Harry. But there are other things I must discuss with all of you now that directly affect all of you.

'First...Harry, I have told Neville about the Prophecy, because I believed it was important for him to be aware of it. He hasn't said anything to you because I asked him to keep the information to himself...but he knows now. As does Miss Lovegood, who we can all trust to keep this a secret as well.

'I do not think, therefore, I need to emphasize to all of you how important it is that Harry defeat Voldemort. The question is how he can do it.'

Dumbledore paused, removed his glasses, and rubbed at his eyes. He took a deep breath before he continued.

'He cannot do it alone,' said Dumbledore, as his eyes wandered over each student sitting in the office. 'He needs the help of all of you, and of us.'

'Sir--' Harry began, feeling nervousness rush through his blood. He didn't like this--the idea of endangering his friends. Again.

'You are all perhaps wondering why I hired Professor Hopkirk,' Dumbledore said. Harry blinked, thrown off balance by the change of subject.

'Please, sir,' said Hermione. 'Why...why did you hire her? Those books she's using for her classes--'

'Are restricted, yes,' said Dumbledore. 'But they are being used for a reason. I am hoping that Harry will find something useful in them to use against Voldemort. He cannot successfully perform Unforgivable Curses--which include the Killing Curse, of course--so he will have to find a different way to destroy Voldemort.'

A low hum of breath from Harry and the others filled the room.

'You hired her...to help me?' Harry managed.

'That was my number one priority, yes,' said Dumbledore. 'I am aware that she is...unconventional.'

Ron bit back a snort and covered it with a cough.

'But she is very skilled, and she has been granted permission by the Ministry and the Board of Governors to...bend the usual rules,' Dumbledore said. 'None of you will be having practical lessons in how to perform restricted curses, and you will not be permitted to use restricted curses, nor will any of you be tested on them in your N.E.W.T.s. But you will all learn the theories and methods behind them.'

'But sir--' Hermione protested.

'Please understand, Miss Granger,' said Dumbledore gently. 'I have had to placate a lot of worried parents. This was a compromise I made with the Board of Governors; they were ready to allow all of you to actually learn how to use Dark Magic.'

'Professor Hopkirk,' said Hermione. 'She knows how to use Dark Magic, doesn't she?'

'She was trained at Durmstrang,' said Dumbledore, and Hermione nodded nervously, her question answered.

'Getting back to Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I'm asking for your help, to help him.'

'Of course,' said Ron at once.

'Ron--'

'Harry, there is no avoiding danger to your friends now,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'You know you cannot do this on your own.'

Harry nodded. 

'In examining the various strengths of each of you,' said Dumbledore, 'I'm going to ask all of you to...take on particular tasks.

'Mr. Weasley...I think it's time you started receiving proper training.'

'Training?' said Ron, looking very nervous. 'You mean...are you saying...'

'I'm saying that as of now, your gift is no longer in doubt,' said Dumbledore, and Harry watched as Ron's shoulders sagged. 

'What gift?' Neville asked.

'That is for Mr. Weasley to tell you, Neville,' said Dumbledore. He turned back to Ron. 'I know this is difficult for you to accept, Mr. Weasley but...there it is. However, if you are to master your gifts you'll need training. I've asked Professor Firenze to tutor you twice a week, before your afternoon lessons, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Agreed?'

'Okay,' said Ron glumly. 'Yeah. I'll do it.'

'I know I'm asking a lot,' said Dumbledore. 'What with Head Boy duties on top of everything else. But I would not place this responsibility upon you if I believed you couldn't handle it.'

Ron nodded. 'Yes, sir,' he said, swallowing hard.

'Miss Granger,' Dumbledore went on, 'I know you've already started your research. I'm going to ask you to continue, and to make copies of your notes and present them to Professor McGonagall and to me.' He then reached inside his desk and removed a small scroll, which he handed to her.

'This is an Unlimited Use Pass for the Restricted Section, signed by me,' said Dumbledore. 

'Yes, sir,' said Hermione.

'Mr. Longbottom,' said Dumbledore.

'Y-yes?'

'I'd like you to take over D.A. meetings,' he said. 'Professor Hopkirk will be running them but she'll need a right hand person, and I'd prefer it be you this year.'

Neville glanced at Harry and bit his lip; Harry couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. He'd liked running D.A. meetings. But he nodded at Neville.

'Okay,' Neville said, his voice shaky.

'Miss Lovegood,' said Dumbledore. At this Luna turned her wide blue eyes to him. 

'Yes?' she asked, her normally hazy voice now clear and focused.

'You have shown tremendous ability with wandless magic,' he said. 'I'm going ask you to do three things. First, you will also assist Professor Hopkirk during D.A. meetings, when the focus is on using wandless magic. Second, I'd like you to assist her in Defence lessons as well. And finally, I want you to work individually with Harry. The two of you can work out a schedule but make sure it's at least once a week.'

Luna gave Harry a dreamy but sympathetic smile, and he nodded again.

'Okay,' she said.

'Fine,' said Harry, feeling his stomach grow tighter by the minute. The way things were going he wondered if he'd have any free time at all.

'Finally, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore. Harry's eyes moved to Ginny, who stood up. 'I have been in consultation with Madam Pomfrey, and she tells me...your gifts are beyond exceptional but that you've been having difficulty controlling them.'

Ginny flushed; Neville looked even more confused. Harry grimaced.

_That's why she freaked out last night. She...she can't control her powers, and when they go out of control it hurts her. And...Merlin. Does kissing make her powers go haywire?_

'Yes, sir,' Ginny muttered.

'It's all right, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore gently. 'Nothing to worry about. But I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey's training can only help you so far, as she does not actually share your gifts. I've asked a colleague--a trusted colleague--to take over your training for now. She'll arrive next week and you can arrange sessions with her. In the meantime...I want to give you something that will help you.'

At this Dumbledore rose and turned to one of his shelves. Harry's eyes widened when he saw Dumbledore pick up a familiar looking bowl. Harry was even more disturbed to see the old man's hands tremble, just slightly, as he placed the bowl on his desk.

'Do you know what this is, Ginny?' Dumbledore asked.

'Yes, sir,' she said. 

'I'm going to bequeath it to you,' he said. 'Now that I'm retired I...have little need for it. You will notice I have...emptied it for you.'

'But sir--'

'I insist, Miss Weasley,' he said firmly. 'It can only help you to manage your powers more effectively. You know how to use it?'

'Yes,' she said.

'Good,' he said. 'Do keep it out of sight.'

'Okay,' said Ginny, and she picked up the bowl carefully and her eyes fell on the silvery surface of the liquid inside. 

'I think...you know what I would ask of you, Miss Weasley,' said Dumbledore carefully. 'But only when you're ready.'

'Yes, sir,' Ginny said, nodding; Harry saw her eyes film over with unshed tears, and his stomach clenched even harder. What on earth did Dumbledore mean? What was he playing at, asking Ginny to do...something...that so obviously hurt her?

'I know I am asking a lot from all of you,' Dumbledore continued. 'But sadly, such things are necessary. Of course nothing that has been discussed her tonight must leave this room. I'll have a word with Harry now; the rest of you are dismissed.'

Harry couldn't help but glare at the old wizard, annoyed...no, angry...at him for demanding so much. What was he on about, asking Ginny to do...something...that hurt her so badly?

'Are we still flying later?' Ron mumbled. ''Cause I need it.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Me, too.' He reached out and touched Ginny's shoulder gently. 'You?'

'I'll be there. Half an hour?'

'Okay,' said Harry, and he watched as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna all filed out of the office. Only when Luna closed the door behind her did Harry turn and face Dumbledore.

'What is it, sir?' Harry asked, unable to keep the bite out of his voice.

'You're angry with me,' he said tiredly.

'No, sir,' said Harry.

Dumbledore gave him a look.

Harry sighed. 'Not...angry. Frustrated. This isn't fair, involving them like this.'

'None of it's fair, Harry,' Dumbledore said sadly. 'It wasn't fair that your parents were murdered, that I made you live with those relatives who couldn't and wouldn't love you, it's not fair that you can't have a life of your own. If I had the power I'd destroy Voldemort myself.'

'He's afraid of you,' said Harry. 'Why can't you kill him?'

'You know why,' said Dumbledore. 

'The prophecy,' said Harry gloomily, flopping back down into his chair.

'Not only that, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'It is no longer...my time.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean there was a time when I could have destroyed him,' said Dumbledore. 'Long ago. Before he began to immerse himself in Dark Magic, before he left Tom Riddle behind and became Lord Voldemort. But I didn't. I couldn't.'

'Why not?' Harry asked. Dumbledore was doing it again--telling him about some huge mistake he'd made that had even bigger--and more horrible--consequences. The only thing Harry could feel after such revelations was to feel entirely wretched.

'Because I thought he could be...saved,' said Dumbledore. 'I learned too late that...there are many who don't want to be saved.'

Harry nodded.

_Yup, I feel wretched. An hour ago I was kissing a really nice, really pretty girl under a tree, and now..._

_Dumbledore's right. I don't have a life of my own. Everything belongs to HIM, to bloody Voldemort, to my stupid DESTINY. And now Dumbledore's gone and retired--_

'Sir,' he asked. 'Why...why are you retiring?'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore. 'I was wondering whether you'd ask me about that.'

'Well?' said Harry impatiently.

'You may have noticed, Harry, I'm...not exactly young,' said Dumbledore, smiling sadly.

Harry shrugged. 'Yeah, but...so?'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Harry, when you reach the age of 150...you'll understand.'

'Wow, you're that old?' said Harry, gracelessly. He had known it on some level of course, but to hear Dumbledore actually say it...

'Well, give or take a few years,' said Dumbledore. 'I'm old, and I'm tired. I'm only staying here because Hogwarts is my home now, and I want to...to be able to keep an eye on you. But I can't last forever, and I won't continue to run this school if I'm not at my best. Professor McGonagall has at least several more decades left in her; she'll do a fine job running this school once I'm gone.'

'Gone?' Harry asked, knowing what he meant, and yet, not wanting to think about it.

'Nobody lives forever, Harry,' Dumbledore said, his face still holding that sad smile.

Harry nodded and swallowed, and felt the sting of tears prick his eyes. He blinked them away.

'I have something for you,' said Dumbledore, interrupting Harry's morose thoughts. 'I would have given it to you on your seventeenth birthday but I was...indisposed.'

He reached into his top desk drawer again and extracted from it a small gold key, which he handed to Harry.

'A key?' Harry asked. 'It...it looks like my Gringott's bank key.'

'It is a key, for another vault,' said Dumbledore. 'But...the vault is not in Gringott's, and it doesn't contain any money, I'm afraid.'

'I don't need any more money,' said Harry. 'So why--'

'The key belonged to your parents,' said Dumbledore. 'They had another vault. A personal vault, containing documents, photographs, records...'

Harry felt the color drain from his face.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'I mean,' said Dumbledore, 'that the vault is now yours, and you are free to look at the contents whenever you wish.'

'But...but why now?' Harry asked, feeling anger bubble inside him. 'Why not when I found out...about who I was?'

'It was your parents' wish,' said Dumbledore. 'You were not to inherit the contents of the vault until your seventeenth birthday.'

'Oh,' said Harry, his heart heavy. 'But...why would they want to keep everything a secret? I don't understand.'

'There is so much you don't know about your parents, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Things I wish I could have told you.'

'Tell me now,' said Harry.

'I can't,' said Dumbledore. 'And neither,' he added, when he noticed Harry's eyes flash, 'can Remus Lupin. The documents and records contained in the vault are not simply mementoes of the private lives of James and Lily Potter. There are documents concerning your parents' work...for the Ministry. Documents that no one but the direct descendant of James and Lily Potter is allowed to see.'

Harry stared at Dumbledore. 'You mean...you don't know anything about this?'

'Oh, I had some idea,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'A basic notion, but as to the particulars...'

His voice trailed off; Harry's eyes returned to the little gold key in his hand and something dawned on him, something so obvious that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before now, hadn't thought of it since he'd learned, from Mr. Weasley, that such people existed.

'My parents were Unspeakables,' he said slowly. 'Weren't they?'

Dumbledore said nothing, but the look in his eyes told Harry he was right.

'And the vault...it's here, isn't it?' he went on.

Dumbledore nodded. 'Your mother requested that her things, and your father's, be stored here; it was the safest place for those things at the time. And they made me their Secret Keeper, so no one has been able to find that vault or is even aware of its existence.'

'Would Voldemort want what's in it?'

'Almost certainly,' said Dumbledore. 'Which is another reason why I never told you until now. To protect you.'

Harry nodded. 'Where is it, then? I want to look inside.'

'Tonight? I'm afraid that's not possible,' said Dumbledore.

'Why not?' Harry demanded hotly.

'Because it is technically past curfew,' said Dumbledore. 'It would not do for you to be seen wandering the corridors.'

Harry started to protest, but then he saw Dumbledore's tired old eyes twinkle. 

'Oh,' Harry said, nodding. 'Right. You're right, of course.'

'As to the vault's location, originally it was here in my office but I moved it,' Dumbledore went on. 'To a place Professor Lockhart can't remember.'

'Lockhart?' Harry repeated. 'What does he...'

His green eyes widened. 'Oh,' he said again. 'In...in there?'

'I'm afraid so,' said Dumbledore. 'Ironically, it's now the safest place in the castle.' 

____________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Finally, FINALLY. I had meant to make this chapter deal with Harry and Ginny but it just got too long; don't worry, I won't leave you hanging on that score. **

**As for Daphne, well...just wait and see. She's a nice girl but she's still a Slytherin.**

**And yes, you will hear about Hermione's theory regarding the freaky Professor Hopkirk very soon.**

**Again, my apologies for the slow updates, but I hope it's worth it for you. I'm hoping to start posting a bit more frequently next month, but I can't make any promises.**

**Meantime, the next chapter will probably be a combination Harry/Ron POV chapter, and don't be surprised if that becomes the pattern down the road--it's becoming harder and harder to devote entire chapters to one guy when both of them have so much going on. The changing POVs will be obvious, though, so don't fret about that.**

**The website continues to be screwy; half the time I can't find my story listed, but the search function seems to be working, so if you can't find it listed in the right subcategories, the search function is the way to go.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Answers and Questions

_Chapter Nineteen: Answers and Questions_

Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling confused and elated. The key he'd received was practically burning a hole in his robe pocket, and he was desperate to go into the Chamber and find this mysterious vault. Dumbledore had told him that though the Chamber had been sealed up after Harry had saved Ginny and destroyed the basilisk, Dumbledore himself had re-opened it in secret and had hidden the Potters' private effects down there. Harry only needed to use Parseltongue, as he had in second year, to open the Chamber once again. Part of him was itching to do just that right now, but he couldn't very well go into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom now, and he didn't really like the idea of going down into the Chamber alone.

_Which means, if you want company on your little trip, you'll have to tell Ron and Hermione.__ Dumbledore said you could include them in, and you know you want their help, so...you have to tell them._

_I will. Later. I want to fly first._

He met Ginny and Ron back in the common room and fetched his broom; Hermione clucked disapprovingly that they really shouldn't be out flying after dark.

'Technically you'll be breaking curfew,' she said, as her eyes moved over her Transfiguration homework.

'Hermione, we're flying in the courtyard, not out on the pitch, and if we get caught, I'll take the blame, okay?' said Ron, and before she could protest he kissed her quickly on the mouth.

She smiled, and Harry had to give Ron credit: she really had mellowed out a bit since they'd been dating.

'Don't forget--'

'The prefect schedules,' said Ron. 'And you're supposed to tell us about Professor Hopkirk. We'll be back in an hour or so.'

He kissed her quickly again; Harry exchanged a brief look with Ginny, and they both smiled before following Ron out of the common room.

In spite of everything, the moment Harry took to the air, he felt better. He'd missed this, hated not being able to fly every day. He, Ron and Ginny practiced some flying maneuvers but hadn't bothered with getting any Quaffles or Snitches to work with; neither did they speak much, preferring, it seemed, to focus fully on what they were doing.

An hour later, they reluctantly landed inside the courtyard and headed indoors. Ron grumbled a bit about the prefect schedules he had to prepare, not to mention the homework, but even without prefect schedules to deal with, Harry resigned himself to a late night studying.

They reached the common room without incident and found Hermione sitting and reading quietly on the sofa; Neville occupied a chair nearby, working on his Transfiguration essay. Everyone else had either gone to bed or, perhaps, Harry wondered, had snuck out somewhere.

'Hey,' he said, looking up with wide eyes. 'How was your fly?'

'Good,' said Ron, taking a seat next to Hermione and pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

'So, Hermione,' Neville said, 'we're all here. What's this about Hopkirk?'

'I really think we should finish our homework first--'

'Come on, Hermione,' said Harry impatiently. 'What have you found out?'

'Fine,' said Hermione, trying to appear annoyed but not succeeding; Harry knew she relished expounding to others on her many brilliant and complicated theories. She sat up straighter and appeared to be arranging herself to give a speech.

'Well?' said Ron expectantly.

'Okay,' said Hermione, in her best Know It All voice, 'I think Professor Hopkirk might be...a vampire.'

Ron gave a low whistle, and Ginny shuddered. Harry blinked and Neville sat back in his chair.

Harry, whose only experience with vampires was in monster fiction, and not real life, sat up straighter.

'What makes you think she's a vampire?' he asked.

'Well, I'm not sure she is,' said Hermione. 'To be perfectly honest I...I could be wrong.'

'Wait,' said Ron, grinning. 'Wait. Everyone. Stop the presses. Hermione Jane Granger just admitted she might be wrong about something. Should I send an owl to The Daily Prophet, love?'

'Very funny,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes. But she was smiling. Ron really HAD lightened her up. Harry didn't really want to dwell on just what lightening Hermione up involved, so he quickly forced everyone back on subject.

'You were saying, Hermione?' he asked.

'Right,' said Hermione. 'Well, as I said, I'm not sure, but...it seems like the likeliest explanation for Professor Hopkirk's...effect on people is that she's a vampire.'

'The effect she has on people?' Ron asked, looking nervous and a bit embarrassed. 'You mean, er, the cold thing and...and the warm thing when she walks by?'

'Vampires create cold and heat when they go by?' said Neville. 'I thought--'

'They create cold, yes,' said Hermione at once. 'But not heat, which is just one wrinkle in my theory about her being a vampire. Vampires are generally known to be seductive, erotic creatures but they are the undead. Their bodies don't produce heat.'

Harry noticed Ron shifting uncomfortably on the couch, his eyes cast down at his hands.

'But you think she may be a vampire nonetheless,' said Harry.

'So far, yes,' said Hermione. 'The parts that fit the vampire profile are greater than those that don't. There's the skin, for one thing. Pale, almost translucent.'

'Yeah,' said Ron at once. 'You can sort of see her veins underneath everything.'

'But it's not ugly or gross,' said Neville. 'It's...

'Beautiful?' said Hermione.

Neville blushed. 'Yeah. But...eerie, too.'

'Her eyes aren't normal, either,' said Ginny. 'Too pale.'

'And they get brighter, not darker, when she's angry,' said Hermione. 'A classic vampire trait. Her movements are too smooth and unnatural to be human, too. She's flesh and blood, of course--all vampires are, they're just undead--and their feet touch the ground. But you wouldn't know it to see them move. And there's something else that suggests she's a vampire.'

'What's that?' Ron asked, looking nervous again.

'The arousal effect,' said Hermione, very primly.

Ron gave a choked laugh. 'What are you on about?' he asked, giving Harry a very embarrassed look; his ears were bright red.

'Ron, it's okay,' said Hermione at once. 'I saw what she did to you in class, and to the other boys.'

Harry felt his own neck get hot and the implications of this, and Neville had covered his face with his hands. Ginny, Harry noticed, looked slightly amused.

'Okay,' said Hermione quickly, 'I didn't actually SEE the...well, the evidence of...of what she did--'

'Hermione, just stop, okay?' said Harry at once, and Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing.

'Anyway,' said Hermione, in a tone that suggested she was, indeed--and to Harry's great relief--moving on, 'that tipped me off, too, to the possibility that she could be a vampire.'

'What do you mean, arousal effect?' Ginny asked.

'Vampires are known for seducing their victims,' said Hermione. 'They're able to elicit sexual responses from their intended victims, to the point that the victim willingly surrenders to the vampire's...advances.'

'Whoa,' said Ron, shuddering. 'You mean...the victim actually lets the vampire bite him...or her?'

'Not always,' said Hermione, 'but yes, it does happen quite a bit. Vampires will attack if they are desperate to feed, but generally speaking they prefer a compliant victim. It's...cleaner that way, and more satisfying to the vampire.'

'Yuck,' said Ginny. 'Sounds like...like they get off on biting people.'

'That's about the gist of it,' said Hermione. 'Vampires can't reproduce and...well...there's debate in the literature as to whether they're actually capable of having sexual intercourse. Most scholars believe vampires are physically capable of intercourse but that they don't desire it at all. In fact, the desire for blood--taking blood from the vein or artery of a living human victim--takes the place of sexual desire. A good feed for a vampire can be...well, as satisfying as...as...'

She blushed furiously.

'...As orgasm,' she finished.

'Okay, now I am officially disturbed,' said Ron, shuddering again.

'Me, too,' said Harry, grimacing.

'Me, three,' said Ginny and Neville together.

'So, does this mean us blokes should start wearing cloves of garlic to class?' Harry said, only half-joking.

'There's a thought,' said Ron, cottoning on to the idea at once. 'I'll be it if we asked Dobby--'

'Ron,' said Hermione, 'do you really think it would be wise to alert Professor Hopkirk to the fact that we're researching her behind her back? How do you think she'd react if the boys showed up to class with garlic all over themselves?'

'But you just said--'

'She's still our teacher, Ron,' said Hermione. 'She makes me uneasy, yes, but...Dumbledore hired her--'

'I can't believe you're going to defend the hiring habits of Dumbledore again,' said Ron.

'Why not? He hired Bill, and Professor Lupin!' said Hermione indignantly. 

'Oh, okay,' said Ron. 'Two good ones out of seven? Not very good statistics, love.'

'Ron, Dumbledore wouldn't hire somebody dangerous now, not in Harry's last year--'

'Hello!' said Harry, throwing up his hands. 'Before the two of you go off into Ron and Hermione BickerLand, can we please get back to the subject at hand here?'

Ginny smiled again, and Harry couldn't help but smile back. 

'Sorry,' Ron and Hermione both mumbled.

'The point is,' Hermione went on, 'we can't afford to...alienate Professor Hopkirk. Term has just started and...maybe she does have something valuable to offer.'

'You're the one whose knickers were in a twist about the books she's using!' Ron said incredulously.

'That was before we met with Dumbledore and he explained everything!' Hermione shot back, and Harry groaned and shook his head. Some things never changed.

'Yeah, so,' said Ginny loudly, 'we agree that wearing garlic to lessons is a bad idea. Moving on...'

'Right,' said Hermione, breaking off yet another argument before it got too involved (Harry had to admit she and Ron were at least better at letting things go now), 'as I was saying...what was I saying?'

'Vampires get off on biting people,' Neville blurted, and then he blushed.

Ginny put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing; Harry wished she'd stop doing that, because her smile was infectious. Not to mention cute. And she made him want to laugh, but laughing now didn't seem all that appropriate.

'Right, that,' said Hermione. 'Well...so...Professor Hopkirk seems to have the ability to entice...boys, just by looking at them, really.'

'Maybe that's why we felt...hot?' Neville said, looking very embarrassed.

'No,' said Hermione, 'there's the wrinkle. Vampires don't create heat, as I said. She might have caused the boys in class to...well...you know. But that warm, sticky feeling...that's not something typically associated with vampires.'

'Could she do it to girls, too?' Ron asked, and then he blushed. 'Er, I mean...you know...the arousal thing?'

'Technically, yes,' said Hermione. 'Vampires aren't bisexual, per se, but they can certainly affect people of the same sex if they want that person's blood. It all comes down to blood for them.'

'But...she didn't do that to...to you, Hermione?' Neville asked hesitantly.

Ron gave Neville a sharp look, and Neville shrank into his chair a bit.

'Sorry,' he said quickly. 'None of my business--'

But Hermione answered the question.

'N-no,' said Hermione. 'I mean, I felt the temperature changes, definitely, but not...not...that.'

'So...she has some traits associated with being a vampire,' Ginny said. 'But others...'

'Are off, yes,' said Hermione. 'Well, at least the part about producing heat. Definitely not characteristic of a vampire. And then there's the fact that she was eating her meal at dinner.'

'Vampires don't eat any regular food?' said Ron. 'None at all?'

'They will if it means that or starving to death,' said Hermione. 'But that almost never happens--they'll almost always find blood somewhere. And if they have to eat regular food, they have to practically force it down. They don't relish it the way Professor Hopkirk was.'

'But...well, she was eating...meat,' said Harry. 'That's...bloody.'

'Bloody, maybe,' said Hermione. 'But not fresh. Food is revolting to vampires. They want blood. Not only can a vampire not survive without a regular quantity of blood, a vampire craves blood above all else. A vampire will drain the blood of a rat before it will seek out human cuisine. But Professor Hopkirk was...was...'

'Making love to her dinner?' said Harry.

'Ew,' said Ron and Ginny together.

'Yes,' said Hermione. 'On both counts.'

'So, she creates heat and she eats real food,' said Neville. 'But...well...we haven't seen any vampire teeth, have we?'

'No, we wouldn't see those unless she was about to bite the flesh of a living victim,' said Hermione. 

'Has anyone noticed if she's passed by a mirror?' Ginny asked. 'Vampires can't see their reflections, can they?'

'No,' said Hermione. 'And no, I haven't noticed if she's passed a mirror, but I'll definitely be looking now.'

There was general agreement about this, and some nodding.

'Vampires can't be in the sun, can they?' said Ron. 

'They can if they're very careful--the sun only hurts them if the light touches their skin,' Hermione replied. 'But if they cover up very carefully, they're okay.'

'So I guess we'll have to wait and see what Professor Hopkirk does when she goes outside,' said Neville. 'If she goes outside.'

'Even if she can't abide the sun,' said Hermione, 'that doesn't mean she's definitely a vampire.'

'But you just said--' Ron began.

'I know,' said Hermione, 'but...I can't help but think we're dealing with something completely different and...and foreign in Professor Hopkirk. If she's a vampire, then she's unlike any vampire I've ever read about, any vampire in recorded history. She may just be...a freak.'

'She's definitely that,' said Ron fervently. 'You could look up the word "freak" and find her picture next to it--'

'I mean, a freak of nature,' said Hermione. 'If you could call vampires something natural. No, I mean...some new dark creature nobody's heard of. Yet.'

'Let me guess,' said Ron. 'You're not going to rest until you find out.'

'Actually,' said Hermione. 'No. I don't think I will bother with this.'

'You won't?' said Harry, shocked. 'You'll pass up an opportunity to do more research? You could discover a whole new species, Hermione. You're passing that up?'

'Yes,' said Hermione. 'Harry, if I'm going to be doing any research at all, it's going to be find a way for you to kill Voldemort, all right?'

This was met with a short silence.

'Oh,' said Harry at last, not looking at her. 

_Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to kill that bastard. I forgot. For just over an hour, I forgot about that. Damn._

'The rest of it--if Professor Hopkirk or anything related to her can help you, I'll look into it,' Hermione said.  'As it is we're all going to be stuck studying the theories and practices of Dark Magic, which is complex enough--'

'Don't remind us,' said Ron. 

There was another silence; the fire was crackling, and Harry marveled that even on a relatively balmy night like this one, there should be a perfectly merry fire in the hearth. The flames mesmerized him for a moment, and then Neville rose from the sofa and announced he was turning in. The others stayed seated, watching him go upstairs. It was a full minute before Ron spoke.

'About...about that meeting with Dumbledore,' he said.

'Do we have to talk about it tonight?' said Ginny. 'We know what he wants us to do.'

'Ginny...' said Ron. 'Why...why didn't you tell us...you were having trouble with...with your powers?'

'Because it's my problem to deal with, not yours,' said Ginny, a bit sharply.

'But--'

'I don't want to talk about this, Ron,' she said firmly. 'Not now, okay?'

Ron nodded and gave up; Harry, for his part, said nothing. He was intensely curious about Ginny's situation, but he wasn't going to pry.

'I suppose I'd better...get going on the prefect schedules and homework,' said Ron reluctantly, getting up from the sofa.

'We've got patrols at midnight tonight,' said Hermione, standing up herself and smoothing her robes.

'Again?' Ron groaned. 'Is this going to happen every night?'

'No,' said Hermione, 'once you get the prefect schedules done we can all rotate patrolling shifts.'

'Right,' said Ron. 'I get it. Let's go.'

Harry watched as Ron and Hermione exited the common room, and then turned to go up to his room to fetch his books.

'Harry?'

Harry turned to see Ginny looking at him. Or rather, looking over his shoulder. Her cheeks were pink and she looked nervous.

'What's up?' he asked stupidly, knowing full well what was up.

'About...last night...' Ginny said slowly. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' said Harry.

'I shouldn't have...kissed you like that,' she said, looking down at her shoes.

Harry flushed. 'I...I sort of kissed you, too.'

'I know,' she said. 'But...it...it was a mistake, wasn't it?'

'Was it?' said Harry. 

'I think so,' said Ginny. 

'Oh,' said Harry, feeling very...deflated all of a sudden. 'Why?'

'Why what?' said Ginny, blinking.

'Why was...us kissing a mistake?'

'Oh,' said Ginny. 'Well...we're friends and I don't want to mess that up.'

'Neither do I,' said Harry.

'And...and...'

'And what?' Harry persisted.

Ginny sighed and sat back down on the sofa, putting her head in her hands.

'Ginny, what's wrong?' Harry asked, sitting next to her. 'This...this is about the meeting tonight, isn't it? What did Dumbledore mean when he said...what he said about your powers?'

'Harry,' she said, looking up, and Harry was stunned to find her eyes shiny with tears. 'It's complicated,' she went on. 'I...I can't always control my powers. Sometimes...they get away from me.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, sometimes I...I feel things so intensely that...that it hurts me,' she said. 'I mean, physically, it hurts me. The emotions hit me so hard that...that it manifests itself in physical pain. And...when that happens I lose control and I wind up...hurting the other person.'

Harry stared at her for moment, trying to process what she was saying.

'But...' he said slowly, 'you've used your powers on me before and...I never got hurt.'

'That's because I was focused, I was able to concentrate on what I was doing,' she said. 'Physical contact is necessary for an Empath to do her form of healing. But...but with me, sometimes, if I have physical contact with a person and...and I feel something really powerful, I lose control and...and that's when I hurt myself and the other person.'

'That's what happened last night, isn't it?' said Harry, feeling his stomach twist (he made a mental note to seek out a spell that could untwist his stomach, because at the rate he was going he'd be one big knot by the end of term).

'Yes,' she said, and another tear fell. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I...I just...'

'Ginny, you...do you still...shit, how do I say this--'

'Have feelings for you?' she said.

Harry flushed and looked down.

'Yes,' she said. 

'Oh,' he said, trying to process this. 

Is that so bad? You have feelings for her, too, don't you?

I'm not in love with her. Am I?

No. Well, maybe not now, anyway. But...you like her, don't you?

Yeah, I like her, but what about Daphne? What about Susan? I'm not totally over that. I don't want a relationship with a girl right now. Not anything serious. And something with Ginny would be...serious.

'I'm sorry,' said Ginny again. 'Look, Harry, it's not like it was before, okay? I'm not some stupid little girl with a crush on you--'

'I know you're not,' said Harry at once.

'I care about you,' she said. 'I count you as a friend, a good friend. I just...I also happen to be attracted to you, that's all. But,' she added quickly, 'I don't expect anything from you, nothing at all. I know you're still working out things about Susan and...and I know you're interested in Daphne. I don't expect you to be interested in me.'

'Ginny--'

'Please let me finish,' she said, her voice pleading. 'I shouldn't have kissed you because I was taking advantage of you. And I shouldn't have kissed you because...because a part of me knew what would happen. I just...I wanted to kiss you, only...that's not all of it. I just wanted to see if...if maybe I could finally kiss someone without hurting him.'

Harry blinked. 'What are you saying, Ginny?'

Ginny bit her lip and wiped impatiently at the tears that were falling on her cheeks.

'I lied to you,' she said. 'About...about why Dean broke up with me. He didn't break up with me because I wouldn't sleep with him. I did sleep with him, once. Only...only...when it happened my stupid powers got so out of control and...and he freaked out. I didn't mean to do it, I didn't mean to lose control and...and grab all his thoughts and memories and mess with his head like that but...it happened, because...because I really loved him and I wanted so badly to be with him. But when it happened...I lost control and...I hurt him, and myself. So he dropped me.'

'Ginny,' Harry said, feeling appalled and anguished for her.

'I don't blame him,' she said. 'He'd been a bit freaked out by my powers before. I only found out about them because of dating him, isn't that ironic? I thought, in the beginning, that I didn't need to train. But Dean knew. Whenever we had a snog there'd be this...twinge, at the beginning, but he said he'd ignore it because he wanted to be with me. Only, as time went on I started to care for him more and more and my stupid powers got stronger and I couldn't control them, and he got scared, and he told me I had to do something, so...so I started training, and things were okay for a while, they got better, and...and then I agreed to have sex with him; he'd wanted to for a while but I told him I had to make sure I could control my emotions, but...but I loved him and I wanted to be with him so badly, so...so I said yes. Dean...offered to keep quiet for my sake, and he has, so...I can't blame him.'

Harry didn't know what to say. It was...horrible to think about. Not the part about Ginny sleeping with Dean--although Harry certainly didn't love the idea--but the notion that Ginny wanted so badly to get close to someone, and literally couldn't because of her overwhelming Empathic powers.

And then Harry remembered Malfoy. Where did he fit in?

'Ginny...' Harry said slowly. 'What about...Malfoy?'

She bristled. 'I didn't sleep with him, okay?' she said sharply. 'Not for a lack of trying on his part.'

'I wasn't--' Harry said weakly.

'You were thinking it,' she said, her voice softening. 'You've been wondering about it since you figured out what I was. Look, he tried. To blackmail me, I mean. Said he'd tell his Dad all about my powers if I didn't shag him. So I told him I would, and I told him to meet me in the Astronomy Tower one night, and when he made a move I...I pretty much erased any desire on his part to attempt to have sex with me ever again. At least in that case I knew what I was doing with my powers, and I controlled them instead of them controlling me. Malfoy left me alone after that.'

'But I still don't get why he didn't say anything,' said Harry. 'This is Malfoy we're talking about.'

'I might have threatened him with a well-placed Severing Charm,' said Ginny, grinning in spite of herself. 'He doesn't much like the idea of confronting me when I have a wand in my hand.'

Harry smiled. 'I wouldn't mess with you either way.' He paused. 'That's why Dumbledore gave you the Pensieve, isn't it? To help you deal with...with the memories you're getting?'

'Yes,' she said. 'Maybe if I can just...clear out the clutter in brain I won't be such an emotional wreck.' She shuddered, and her bleak mood returned, so strongly that Harry could feel it in his own mind.

'But...I don't know how much good it will do. Not with...him inside me.'

Harry stared at her. 'What do you mean?'

'Riddle,' said Ginny miserably. 'He's inside me, Harry. He's always been there. He left a part of himself, a part of his soul and his memories inside my head. I didn't think about it too much before because...I hadn't discovered my powers yet. But now...he's why I can't get close to anyone. All Empaths have trouble getting close to people, physically close, at first but me...I can't even kiss you without hurting myself and you. I couldn't be with...with someone I loved because...of him. And it's getting worse...'

She broke down, and Harry reached for her, and for a few minutes, she sank against him, and let him stroke her hair, but after a few minutes, she winced and he felt her back tense, and she pushed away from him. He felt a sting in his scar and winced.

Ginny laughed bitterly. 'You see? You can't even hug me now without it happening.'

'Ginny,' said Harry, resisting the urge to reach for her again, 'Tom Riddle doesn't even exist anymore. The spirit in that diary...he was never real when I talked to him in the Chamber. He was just a memory.'

'No, Harry,' said Ginny. 'He's never been "just" anything. He cheated death. His soul is alive, it's always been alive. He feeds off misery. That's why he goes after you so hard, apart from everything else. He knows you're going to destroy him sooner or later--'

'That remains to be seen,' said Harry darkly.

'--because you're powerful, because you have that power he doesn't,' she went on, as if he hadn't spoken. 'The only way he can sap that power out of you is to take away your will to live.'

'But what does this have to do with...you...' Harry said, realization dawning on him. 'He knows...you're an Empath. But...that's impossible. He can't know, you said nobody, not even Malfoy--'

'He doesn't know,' said Ginny. 'At least, Dumbledore doesn't think so. Voldemort isn't in my head, but Tom Riddle is. It's not the same thing. But don't you see, Harry? It doesn't matter if Voldemort knows or not if I'm an Empath. Tom Riddle is...interfering with me, and as long as he's inside me I don't know if I can use my powers effectively.'

She bit her lip and looked away.

Harry sank back onto the sofa, the weight of this new knowledge pressing on his chest.

'It all comes down to me killing him,' Harry said heavily. 'That's the only way you can get Riddle out of your mind.'

'I don't know,' said Ginny tearfully. 'There's the rub. Even if you kill Voldemort, a piece of Tom could stay inside me forever.'

'That can't be,' said Harry forcefully. 'There has to be a way for you to...to get rid of him.'

'I'm going to try,' said Ginny, wiping her face again. 'That's why Dumbledore wants me to train with a real Empath now. Maybe if I train with her and I use the Pensieve I'll be useful to you.'

'Don't say that,' said Harry. 'I...you're not just "useful" to me, you're my friend.'

'A friend who can't even hug you without hurting you,' she said sadly. 'If I can't touch you, I can't help you.'

'Ginny--'

'Harry, I want to help you,' she said. 'Because I care about you, because you can't do this alone, because...because I want you around for a good long time. Even if...we stay just friends.'

Harry bit his lip, feeling torn. He looked at her for a moment. 'I'd be lying if I said I...I wasn't attracted to you, Ginny. And not just because of the lonely, horny thing.'

She smiled. 'Harry, you and me...I just don't think...I'm not what...what you need...right now.'

'Don't you think I should be the one to decide what I need?' said Harry brusquely.

'Yes,' said Ginny, 'and I think deep down, you're not ready to deal with...me.'

Harry started to protest, but she put a finger to his lips. Just that brief contact sent a sizzle of electricity through him, and he felt the warring emotions pouring off her like water.

'It's okay,' she said, her eyes sad. 'I have to figure this out before I can be close to anyone, and I don't expect you to sit tight and wait around for me.'

'Ginny--'

'You should be happy, Harry,' she said. 'Happy as you can possibly be. You should go out with Daphne or whoever else and let yourself have a good time. Ron was right, you need someone cheerful, not a basket case like me. I'd remind you of him.'

Harry shook his head. How could she even think that? He looked at her for a moment, again struck by how beautiful she really was; her brown eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying, but it didn't matter. Part of him wanted to protest, but the protest died on his lips. She was right. A part of him wanted to be with her, but...it would be so complicated. And his life was already so complicated anyway. And even if she didn't remind him of Voldemort or Tom Riddle...there was that connection they shared, a connection that was so close to home for both of them. The timing, and the circumstances, were just plain bad. But there was Daphne, who might have some baggage of her own, but not this much baggage.

'You're right,' Harry said. 'Friends, then.' He forced a grin and held out his hand.

'I'd better not,' she said, her own grin looking forced. 'Not until I get this Empath stuff under control.'

'Right,' said Harry, feeling bereft and already missing touching her, even if it was only in a friendly way. 'Who's training you, anyway?' he added.

'Don't know, actually,' said Ginny, shrugging. 'Hopefully she's not a flake like Trelawney, and at least I don't get stuck with Firenze.'

'Oh yeah, Ron's got to do his Seer thing with Firenze,' said Harry, grateful for the smooth change on subject from Ginny. 'That should be entertaining.'

'For us,' said Ginny. 'I predict whinging from Ron to reach epic proportions. But it won't be fun for him.'

'This year doesn't seem like it'll be fun at all,' said Harry glumly. 'I mean, Voldemort aside, all these stupid exams and extra work...'

'There's always Quidditch,' she said. 'I had a good time flying tonight.'

'Me, too,' said Harry.

They didn't speak for a long moment; Harry felt himself drawn to her like a magnet, and again he felt the depth, the strength of her feelings, but just as he was about to ignore his better judgment and reach for her, she backed away.

'I'm turning in,' she said. 'G'night.'

She hurried up the girls' staircase, leaving Harry alone in the common room. It was a good few minutes before he remembered he had homework to do, and Quidditch schedules to prepare, but as he fetched his books and returned to the common room to settle down to work, all he could think about was his own jumbled feelings, and Ginny. The kiss he'd shared with Daphne hardly registered now.

And he hated Voldemort even more.

_He takes everything from me. Everything. Susan left me, because of him. I can't be close to Ginny, because of him. My friends have nearly died because of him. He took my parents, he took Sirius..._

_Your friends are alive. You're back at school, at your home. You're healthy, you're strong, you've got friends and people on your side and you've got a beautiful girl--Daphne--who's interested in you. And you've survived this long._

_Yeah, I've survived. I'm sick of surviving. I've been doing it since I was a year old. _

_'Neither can live while the other survives.'_

How on earth was Harry supposed to be happy, to live, when Voldemort was alive?

Absently Harry reached into his robe pockets and his right hand and his fingers brushed the metal of the key.

_The vault..._

He'd forgotten all about it. It had seemed so important right after leaving Dumbledore's office, but he'd forgotten it.

_I meant to tell Ron and Hermione..._

Part of him was so tempted to just go now, go down to the Chamber and find that secret vault or whatever it was and open it. But he knew if he did, he'd never get any sleep, much less complete his homework. 

Tomorrow, I'll tell them tomorrow, he vowed, and he turned his attention to his Dark Arts homework, and his mind drifted to Professor Hopkirk, and he shivered, but he knew it wasn't because he was cold.

________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Another one down; at this point I'm looking at an output of about one per week for now. Hope that's okay. The next chapter will be Ron-centric.**

**As for Professor Hopkirk...well, she's definitely something a bit different. You'll learn more about her down the road, but Hermione is on the right track.**

**Regarding Harry and Ginny, I promised you I'd make it tough for the two of them, but I did want them to acknowledge each other's feelings. Ginny's powers are complicated, to say the least. But things will get better for her, and she'll get some help from a certain someone that you all might not expect. :D**


	20. Chapter Twenty: Meditations

_Chapter Twenty: Meditations_

Ron fell asleep somewhere close to one o'clock in the morning. He'd manage to finish the prefect patrol schedules, with almost no nagging from Hermione; he'd also gotten over half his homework done before they'd had to go on their own patrols. Ron might have invited Hermione into his room but she demurred, saying they both needed their rest. He pouted a bit but after she'd kissed him good night, quite thoroughly, he found himself agreeing: he was quite exhausted. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillows, and he didn't dream. Or at least, if he did, his dreams vanished the moment he opened his eyes. He only hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important, but as he finished shaving his stomach growled, and he grabbed his wand and his school bag and headed out his door, meeting Hermione at her room and heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry looked especially tired that morning, and he had that look on his face that Ron had come to identify as his Secretive Look. Harry had something on his mind, it was obvious, but he wouldn't talk about it. He only told Ron and Hermione that he'd let them know later.

The day proved to be as strenuous, if a bit less strange, than the first day of term. For one thing, the Gryffindors were made to suffer through Advanced Double Potions with the Slytherins. 

'Good morning,' the professor said, scowling. 'I trust my homework assignments given to you over the summer have kept your brains from completely turning to dung. Take out your essays for collection.'

Ron quickly took out his five essays and double-checked that they were all neatly rolled and sealed. 

'Accio parchment!' Snape called, and dozens of rolls of parchment landed neatly in a box on Snape's desk.

'Thank you,' Snape said dryly. 'I can't wait to grade them all, I'm sure they'll be fascinating reading. In the meantime, open your _Moste Potente Potions_ text and turn to page 394.'

Another rustle as students hauled the thick textbooks from their bags and plopped them on the desks; Neville's book slid off his table and landed with a bang on the floor.

'Well, well, I see Longbottom is as graceful as ever,' Snape drawled. Neville flushed and picked up his textbook quickly and opened it to the appropriate page, but Ron noticed that where once there would have been fear and shame, Neville only looked annoyed, even angry.

'Now,' Snape was saying, 'we are going to be dealing with advanced healing potions for the next several weeks. These potions are especially important for healers, of course, but Aurors are required to brew and carry small samples of many of these potions when on duty.' At this he fixed a pointed look at Harry, who was seated next to Daphne. Snape didn't seem to notice anything remotely out of place by this.

'As indicated in your textbooks, today's lesson focuses on Heart Restarting Potion,' said Snape. 'A very advanced and potent life-saving potion that restarts a stopped heart.'

Murmurs went up in the room at this; Ron couldn't help but shake his head. 

'That's impossible,' he muttered to Hermione. 'You can't restart a heart once it's stopped.'

'Of course you can,' Hermione whispered. 'Muggles do it all the time through CPR.'

'CPR?'

'Cardiopulmonary--'

'I am quite sure,' Snape said loudly, 'that whatever you two lovebirds are discussing is far more interesting than my lesson. However, while you are in my classroom you will both shut up and pay attention!'

Hermione and Ron both blushed and Hermione bit her lip.

'Sir, we were talking about the potion,' Ron said.

'Oh, really, Mr. Weasley?' said Snape acidly. 'Let me guess. Miss Know-It-All here was trying to explain some basic simple concept to you that even a moron could figure out?'

Ron flushed and he heard Draco Malfoy snigger behind him. 

_Don't say anything stupid, you're Head Boy--_

'That's not true!' Hermione's voice rang out in the still of the classroom. 'Sir.'

Snape glowered at Hermione. 'Well, then, Miss Granger. Do tell us what you were talking about.'

Hermione swallowed and glanced at Harry, then at Ron; Ron knew what she was doing. She was steeling herself to lie.

'Ron wanted to know if the potion worked on someone who'd been hit with a Killing Curse,' she said, in a clear, steady voice.

Snape opened his mouth to say something rude but Hermione's words suddenly seemed to register, and he stopped.

'Is that so?' he said, recovering.

'Yes, sir,' said Hermione.

'And what did you tell him?'

'I told him it was impossible, sir,' said Hermione.

'And why is that, Miss Granger?' said Snape. 'I trust we can count on you to have the answer.'

Hermione gave him a triumphant smile. 'Yes, sir. The potion doesn't work on victims of the Killing Curse because that curse instantly causes every organ and every system in the body to shut down simultaneously. The body's organs and systems function not only through heartbeat but electrical current. When no electrical current whatsoever is functioning in the body the potion can't create an electrical pulse to start up the heart again. It's simply not powerful enough to counterract the Killing Curse.'

Snape smirked again, and it was a moment before he spoke. 'Well, Miss Granger, as painful as it is for me to admit, you are right. In the future, however, if Mr. Weasley has any other burning lesson related questions, I would appreciate it if he brought it to my attention rather than distracting you during class.'

'Yes, sir,' Ron and Hermione both said. Snape rolled his eyes and continued.

'As I was saying, Miss Granger is correct. A Heart Restarting Potion cannot counteract the effects of the Killing Curse. A Heart Restarting Potion functions much in the same way Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation works.'

'Cardio...what?' Draco Malfoy drawled.

'Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Draco,' Snape said. 'A Muggle method of restarting the heart. Not nearly as effective as the potion, of course, and far more brutal, but the principle is the same: recreating the electrical impulse that makes a heart beat...'

Snape went on a bit more, explaining the complexities of the Potion. Ron and Hermione opened the drawers of their desk and pulled out a pile of ingredients, including a white, gloppy mass of something called boracite, which apparently was the key ingredient. As well as a few drops of blood.

_Lovely,_ Ron thought.

'Instructions are on the blackboard,' Snape said. 'I hope none of you are squeamish about drawing a little blood. Begin.'

At once the sounds in the classroom changed from quills scratching on parchment to the soft scraping noises of mortars and pestles as students ground up bits of cat's claw.

It was an exceedingly difficult potion and took nearly the entire double period to finish. It didn't help that Hermione was watching him and trying to whisper instructions; Ron shushed her, surprising himself. A year ago he would have welcomed her help, but he knew if he wanted to be an Auror, he had to learn this stuff himself. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow with his robe sleeve and then took the teaspoon of boracite and slowly dropped it into the potion. The potion hissed and sizzled and began to bubble and turn bright yellow. He bit his lip and looked at Hermione's potion; hers, too, was bright yellow.

_Well, she never gets it wrong, so that must mean mine's okay._

The last ingredient was three drops of blood from the finger or thumb. Ron took his small paring knife, took a deep breath and stuck the end of his thumb with the point of the blade. At once blood appeared; Ron carefully squeezed three drops into his cauldron before yanking his thumb away and sucking on it; it didn't hurt, really, but he didn't much like the sight of blood. He performed a quick healing charm with his wand before taking a flask, fitting it between a pair of tongs, and dipping it carefully into the cauldron. The liquid that poured into the flask was now brilliant, ruby red and seemed to sparkle from within; indeed, tiny sparks were appearing through the mouth of the flask. Ron corked his and took it up to Snape's desk, and felt waves of relief wash over him when he sat back down and started to clean up.

Five minutes later Ron, Hermione and the other Gryffindors were all climbing tiredly up the stairs, away from the dungeons. Harry had lagged behind and was talking with Daphne.

'I hate having that class in the morning,' Seamus grumbled. 'It's too complicated.'

'Yes, well, if I'd known I'd have to cut my fingers open to make potions I would have dropped the class this year,' said Lavender. 'It's a bit morbid, isn't it?'

'I can't believe we made it through a whole lesson without losing points,' said Neville, his eyes still a bit wide. 

'There's first time for everything,' said Ron dryly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lunchtime came and went. Harry was decidedly antsy, but at least, Ron noticed, he wasn't acting as strangely around Ginny, and Ginny seemed to be...at peace with something today. Ron made a mental note to ask her about her Empath training and remembered that Dumbledore had given her--what was it-- a Pensieve. A place to store her excess emotions and thoughts. He only hoped it would help her. Truthfully, her powers scared him a bit.

Ron and Hermione went back to the common room with Harry to take a break before Herbology; Ron was hoping to talk Harry into a game of chess to ease whatever worries were on Harry's mind.

But the moment they entered the common room and found it empty, Harry headed for his favorite chair and beckoned Ron and Hermione over.

'What?' Hermione asked.

Harry pulled something small and gold from his robe pocket. A key.

'What's that for?' Ron asked.

'Dumbledore gave it to me,' Harry said. 'My parents had a vault, at Gringott's, full of papers and photographs and stuff.'

Hermione let out a squeak. 'You mean...secret papers?'

'I think so,' said Harry. 'Remember, you said I didn't know much about my parents. Dumbledore said the same thing and he gave me this key, said I'd inherited all that stuff from my mum and dad.'

'Wicked,' said Ron, grinning. 'So...we'll just ask Dumbledore if we can go to Gringott's, and--'

'The stuff isn't in Gringott's anymore,' said Harry. 'It's here, in Hogwarts.'

'Of course,' said Hermione. 'It makes perfect sense. If those papers, files, whatever they are really ARE secret, Hogwarts would be the safest place.'

Harry nodded. 'Dumbledore said my mum gave him the stuff and asked him to be her Secret Keeper.' He paused and got a sad look in his eyes. 'Too bad...she didn't think to do that a second time.'

'Oh, Harry,' said Hermione, and she put a hand on his arm.

'It's okay,' said Harry at once. 'I...anyway. I want to open the vault, and...and I wondered if you'd come along. There could be a lot of stuff.'

'Of course,' said Hermione at once. 

'Even if it means breaking curfew?' said Harry.

'Why would we need to break curfew?' said Hermione. 

'Because the vault, or safe or whatever it is,' said Harry, 'is in the Chamber of Secrets.'

The silence was so complete Ron could have heard a feather hit the floor.

At last, Hermione spoke.

'Th-the Chamber of Secrets?' she repeated. 'But...Harry. Why would Dumbledore put it in there?'

'Why not?' said Ron. 'It's probably the safest place, it was sealed shut after Harry got Ginny out of there and got rid of the basilisk.'

'How are we going to get in?' said Hermione.

'Same way we got in before,' said Harry. 'Dumbledore says he undid all the spells sealing it off. Only nobody else knows but us because he doesn't want anyone going down there.'

'So we'll definitely have to violate curfew if we want to go down there unnoticed,' said Hermione grimly. 'I don't like this, Harry.'

'You were all for it a minute ago!' said Ron.

'I know, but...the Chamber of Secrets?' said Hermione nervously. 

'What about the Chamber of Secrets?'

The three of them whirled round to see Ginny standing next to the girls' staircase.

'Nothing,' they all said.

'Bullshit,' said Ginny, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. 'What's going on?'

'Ginny,' Ron groaned.

'Why are you going down there?' she demanded.

'What did you hear?' Harry asked.

'Enough,' said Ginny. 'I want to go.'

'No,' said Harry at once.

'Are you mad?' said Ron.

'Ginny, it's really not a good idea for--' Hermione began.

'Bollocks!' she said, her temper flaring. 'If anyone has the right to go down there again it's me.'

Harry got up and crossed the room to her. 'Ginny, come on, you...you don't want to go down there, after what happened--'

'Harry, please,' she said, her tone suddenly pleading, and she reached out to grab Harry's arm, but just as quickly she backed away from him. 

'Ginny, why?' Ron asked. 'Why would you want to go down there, to that place where...where he...'

'Because,' she said, her eyes filling with tears, 'I need to see it. I need to know nothing in there can hurt me anymore.'

They all stared at Ginny, who wiped her eyes impatiently. Ron felt his heart break; his sister had been crying a lot lately, and he knew why.

_That sick bastard, Voldemort. I'd kill him with my bare hands if I could._

_The dreams,_ Ron thought. _She's still dreaming about him, I still don't know what he did to her, nobody does. Maybe..._

'You really think it would help you?' Ron asked.

'Ron, no,' said Harry.

'Yes, I do,' said Ginny, ignoring Harry.

'Ginny, I can't let you--' Harry began.

'Ron, this isn't--' Hermione started.

'I think Ginny should be able to decide...what's best for her,' said Ron hesitantly, meeting his sister's eyes. She gave him a watery smile.

'Ron,' said Harry.

'Harry, she needs this,' said Ron, still looking at Ginny.

Hermione sat down stiffly, rubbing her arms. Harry threw up his hands.

'Okay,' he said. 'Just...you can't--'

'Tell anyone,' said Ginny. 'I won't. The last thing I need is people asking me why I'm going down there again.'

'When?' Ron asked, taking a seat again.

'Tonight,' said Harry. 

'Tonight?' Hermione repeated, alarmed. 'No, Harry, we can't tonight.'

'Why not?' Harry demanded.

'Hermione's right,' said Ron. 'If we're going to do this quietly we'll need to make sure nobody catches us. There's Aurors all over the place, Filch is on the warpath, and, oh yeah, we'll need to figure out how to get back out of there. Last time we had Fawkes fly us out but I don't think he'll necessarily be available this time around.'

'We've got the Invisibility Cloak and the Map,' said Harry impatiently. 'And we can...climb back out of there or something.'

'Climb back up a slimy, slippery drain pipe?' Ron asked.

'Harry, please,' said Hermione. 'Let's do this the right way, okay? I know you're anxious to get a hold on your parents' things but...'

Harry threw up his hands again and relented, sitting down on the sofa. Ginny took a seat next to him, and the two of them exchanged a look Ron couldn't quite discern. It was warm and friendly and a bit...sad.

He blinked and turned his mind to the issue at hand. 'Okay,' said Ron. 'I say we do it on a night when Hermione and I have patrols. That way only the two of you will need the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione, when's our next patrol?'

'Ron, you did the schedules,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

'Yeah, but unlike you I don't memorize this stuff,' he said. 'My schedule's in my room. So...'

'Saturday night,' said Hermione.

'Saturday night?' Ron protested. 'Why'd I schedule us for Saturday night?'

'You had other plans for Saturday night?' Harry asked, smirking.

Ron looked at Hermione knowingly, and they both blushed, just a little. 'Not really,' he mumbled.

'You scheduled us for Saturday night because we needed to get the other prefects into rotation first,' said Hermione. 

'Okay, so Saturday night, then,' said Ginny. 'Meet here in the common room?'

'Midnight,' said Ron. 'Well. We've been back at school for not even two days and we're already breaking rules.'

'Technically we're not,' said Hermione. 'Dumbledore gave his blessing.'

'Well, don't take all the fun out of it, Hermione,' said Harry, grinning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Herbology proved to be no less strenuous, even with just a single period, and the lesson was only the half of it. They shared Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

Ron and Hermione managed to steer Harry far away from Susan Bones, who was seated at the opposite end of the greenhouse.

He gave them a look and shook his head, smiling. 

They were working with Flesh-Eating Snapdragons, beautiful, brightly colored flowers whose petals hid frighteningly sharp teeth and powerful jaws. The plants were drawn to the scent of human skin, which meant that all the students had to wear very thick canvas gloves, but the only way to really keep them from biting was to coat the gloves in...

'Unicorn piss?' Seamus grumbled. 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What's the point of these plants again?'

'The petals are crushed, combined with the residue of the unicorn's urine and become a key ingredient in Skele-Gro potion,' said Professor Sprout cheerfully. 

At this Harry and Ernie MacMillan exchanged horrified glances.

After Herbology came Charms, again with the Ravenclaws. Professor Flitwick, thankfully, went easy on them that day, merely discussing their summer homework essays and going over a review of last term's charms, and but Flitwick made up for his kindness in the classroom by dumping a heavy reading load on them, and assigning a two foot essay on advanced Concealment Charms.

By dinnertime, Ron was famished and he scarfed down three helpings of dinner. After pudding, he, Hermione, Harry and Ginny all headed to the common room only to find it buzzing with activity as the younger students gazed eagerly at the many signs that had been posted for the numerous clubs; Ron noticed that Harry had, at some point, managed to pin up a rather crudely prepared announcement about Quidditch try-outs for Saturday afternoon. 

It quickly became clear that studying in the common room would be impossible, so Ron and the others headed for the library. It was one of Ron's least favorite places (the prefect's bathroom was competing with Snape's dungeons at the top of the list) but it was blessedly quiet. Ron was rather pleasantly surprised to discover that he got quite a lot of homework done when he concentrated enough. And it would be nice, he thought, to get all that homework out of the way so he could enjoy the weekend.

He made the mistake of mentioning this to Hermione when they left the library for the evening.

'I told you,' she said. 'It only took you seven years to figure that out. Honestly, I've only been saying this since--'

'You shouldn't have said anything, mate,' said Harry, grinning.

'Yeah, I know,' said Ron. 'I'd kiss her to shut her up but she'd slap me.'

'Ron!' said Hermione, rolling her eyes as Ginny chuckled behind them.

Wednesday provided welcome relief; Ron only had to contend with Advanced Care of Magical Creatures in the mornings. Ron and Harry were distinctly displeased about Professor Grubbly-Plank taking up residence again, and Ron cursed himself for not having asked Dumbledore where Hagrid had gone.

'Where's Hagrid?' Neville asked, taking the question right out of Ron's mouth.

'He's dealing with a family matter,' said Grubbly-Plank. 'At least that's what Dumbledore told me.'

'Family matter?' said Neville, screwing up his face. 'But--'

Hermione grabbed Neville's wrist and squeezed, giving him a significant look; Neville got the hint and went quiet, not that he knew about Hagrid's...family issues.

_Family matter, indeed.__ Wonder what Grawp is up to these days._

Professor Grubbly-Plank, meanwhile, announced a special treat for the class: they would be working with a rare breed of dragon called the Pygmy Spiketail, which only grew to a total height of about two feet and a length of about three and a half. The dragons were valued for their spiky tails, whose spikes, at full maturity, were made of diamond. 

The lesson involved little more than making nests for the dragon eggs, but the nests were complex structures that required very specific amounts of certain type of grasses and leaves. Ron's fell apart twice before he got his right.

'We'll be monitoring the progress of the eggs in our lessons, and they should hatch in two weeks time,' said Grubbly-Plank. 

The lesson ended, with three feet of parchment homework devoted to an essay on the Pygmy Spiketail and a detailed drawing of the fully grown beast.

'That was an excellent lesson,' Hermione enthused as they headed back up to the castle. 'Pygmy Spiketails are really rare, almost nobody gets to witness them hatching, and just think, we'll get to watch the spikes form--' Her voice broke off when she saw the look on Ron's and Harry's faces. 'But I'm sure Hagrid would have come up with something much better,' she said quickly.

The week progressed; their second Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was no less disconcerting than the first. If anything, it was worse, because Professor Hopkirk insisted on having everyone practice the Caedere Charm. In order to do this safely, Professor Hopkirk had cleared the room of desks and had people work on it two at a time while everyone else stood at the back of the room. Hermione performed the charm on her second try but for once she didn't look remotely pleased by this; she looked even less pleased when Professor Hopkirk smiled her close-lipped smile and said silkily, 'Ten points to Gryffindor.' Ron, too, couldn't remember being less enthused about earning house points in his life. The lesson ended with a reading assignment on Asphyxiation Curses and a two foot essay on the same. 

Ron was still writing in his dream diary every morning but he was finding the entries almost frustratingly dull. Even the sexual dreams weren't much fun, mostly because they were useless as a means of helping Harry. Ron had had no visions, either. Not that he really wanted to have any, but surely if he were a True Seer he'd be having visions more frequently? And Harry was having no further trouble with his scar, and no other visions. Checking _The Daily Prophet_ on a daily basis told them little. The few attacks that could be attributed to Death Eaters were happening in such far flung places as Albania and some Russian city called Minsk; there was a rumour that Voldemort had been seen in Hungary but the rumour failed to pan out. And so far, nobody had been able to pinpoint the whereabouts of Lucius Malfoy. The only news of note on that front was that his attorney, Helene Rosier, had, by all appearances, vanished not long after she was cleared of any involvement in Malfoy's escape. "Top officials in the Ministry" (who failed to give their names) were convinced she'd been murdered by Malfoy to cover his tracks. 

Ron, Harry and Hermione all knew better.

It was on a Friday morning as Ron and Harry were heading back to the common room from breakfast so that Harry could fetch his books that Ron remembered what Dumbledore had wanted from him. 

They passed by the Divination classroom when a strong, clear voice called out, 'Mr. Weasley!'

Ron whirled round to see the image of Firenze filling the double-doors into the classroom.

'Oh,' said Ron. 'H-hi.'

'Dumbledore tells me you require some assistance in honing your gifts,' said Firenze slowly. His palomino tail swished behind him.

'Er, yeah,' said Ron uncomfortably. 'That's right.'

'Very well,' said Firenze. 'You will meet me here this evening at five o'clock. Bring your diary and don't be late.'

Ron started to protest--he'd planned on flying before dinner--but then Firenze turned magesterially and clopped away, his tail swishing behind him, and the doors to the Divination classroom slammed shut.

'Guess it's just me and Ginny, then,' said Harry.

'Bugger,' Ron groaned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At five o'clock, Ron reached up to the closed Divination classroom door to knock, but it swung open with a creak.

'Come in, Mr. Weasley.'

Ron rolled his eyes and entered the classroom. He hadn't been inside in over a year but little had changed. It still greatly resembled a small part of the Forbidden Forest. The magical sun that illuminated the classroom filtered through the trees and gave everything a pinkish-gold glow.

'Hello?' Ron called, for Professor Firenze was nowhere in sight. 'Professor?'

'Ah!'

Ron whirled around at the voice, which was decidedly not Firenze's. He came face to face with Professor Trelawney.

'Oh,' said Ron, feeling his stomach clench with horror. 'Er, hi, Professor Trelawney.'

'It's Ronald Weasley,' she said, smiling hugely. Her eyes looked enormous behind her thick glasses, and she gave off a sickly-sweet scent of dying begonias. 'What brings you here?'

'Oh, er...' Ron stammered, wondering just how honest he was supposed to be with Trelawney. 'Well...'

'Ron is training with me, Sybill,' said Firenze, and he walked slowly over to them both. 'Professor Dumbledore has asked me to assist Mr. Weasley with...meditation.'

'Meditation?' said Trelawney, her voice eager in spite of its usual mistiness. 'Really? Of course, meditation. I use it all the time, myself. Without it my Inner Eye would be ever such a jumble. You know, Firenze, perhaps this sort of thing is better left to me.'

Ron's eyes widened in horror.

'I mean, meditation is my forté,' said Trelawney, 'the grounding of the mind and the senses, yes, that is one of my greatest gifts. Whereas your strengths are far 

more...celestial and complex in nature--'

'Thank you Sybill,' said Firenze politely, but with an edge to his voice that clearly conveyed what he thought of Trelawney, which wasn't much, 'but Dumbledore specifically asked me to help Mr. Weasley. I could hardly shirk my duties.'

Trelawney's jaw stiffened visibly, but only for a moment, and she smiled a fake, honeyed smile. 'Of course, of course,' she said. 'If you don't mind, I'll just return to my private tower and dine alone. My Inner Eye has been quite disturbed of late.'

She started out the door, but then she turned to Ron and said, 'By the way, dear, you'd best reconsider the birthday present you were going to buy for your young lady friend.'

And with that, she swept out the door, and it slammed behind her.

'Barking,' Ron muttered under his breath.

'Not "barking", Mr. Weasley,' said Firenze. 'Merely foolish, like most of your kind.'

'Yeah, right,' said Ron. _Great.__ Instead of training someone who's going to predict all sorts of horrible things happening to me, I get to work with a snob who thinks humans are all idiots._

'Do not take it personally, Ronald,' said Firenze. 'Humans are more often foolish out of ignorance and arrogance. But you are a Seer, and your kind are rare. You are already several steps above most of your kind.'

'Thanks,' Ron said dryly, but Firenze missed the sarcasm. 'So...what do I have to do?'

'Come,' said Firenze, and he turned with a sweep of his tail and gestured toward the center of the room, which resembled a small, shady glade where beams of magical sunlight peeked through.

'Do you know how to cast a magical fire, Ronald?' Firenze asked. 

'Er, yeah,' said Ron. He didn't mention that his Portable Fire Charms weren't very good.

'The ancient art of meditation, of opening one's mind to the infinite possibilities of time and space, require far more than simply closing one's eyes and relaxing,' said Firenze, and he shot a disdainful look at the door through which Trelawney had just exited. 'The problem with humans is that they are too rushed. Their minds are too busy. Focused meditation and true Sight take time and practice. Mental balance cannot be achieved on a whim.'

'Okay,' said Ron.

'Sit,' said Firenze, and he gestured to a soft patch of grass in the center of the glade. Ron sat, and Firenze suddenly gave a wave of his arm, and a small fire appeared, crackling with orange and blue flames.

'Tell me, Mr. Weasley,' said Firenze, 'how often do you meditate? And do sit up straight.'

Ron crossed his long legs in front of him, straightened his back, and swallowed. 'Er, I...I don't.'

Firenze looked down at him disapprovingly. 'How, then, can you possibly hope to make any good use of your gifts?'

'Well, I--'

'I  am aware you are keeping a dream diary, yes?'

'Yes, sir,' said Ron. 'I write it in every morning. Sometimes...sometimes twice a day, if I wake up from a dream.'

'Well, that is something,' said Firenze. 'Have you learned any insights from reading your diary?'

'A few,' said Ron cautiously. 

'Only a few,' said Firenze, shaking his head. 'I can see why Dumbledore wanted me to work with you. Ronald, your dreams can tell you many things, but if your mind is not open in your waking hours, you cannot hope to achieve the full potential of your powers. This is where meditation is vital.'

Ron nodded slowly, and Firenze turned for a moment, walking slowly over to a tree; there was a knot on the trunk and from the knot hung a small satchel. Firenze picked up the satchel and brought it back to the center of the glade.

'You might remember the value of burning herbs in your lessons from fifth year,' said Firenze.

'Sure,' Ron lied.

'The burning of herbs is useful to meditation. Certain scents trigger mental and physical relaxation, while others cue alertness and openness in the mind.'

Firenze opened the cloth bag and tossed several handfuls of dried herbs into the fire. The flames burst red for a moment, then went back to blue and orange, and at once, the air was filled with numerous scents. Ron detected lavender and...was that sage?

'Close your eyes,' said Firenze. 'Breathe in the scents of the fire.'

Ron nodded and obeyed.

'Listen to the sound of the fire,' said Firenze, and his voice sounded oddly soothing. 'The crackle of the flames. Do you hear it?'

'Yeah,' Ron muttered.

'The hiss of the embers, do you hear that?'

'Yes,' Ron said, his eyes closed.

'The smells, focus on the smells as they enter your nostrils,' said Firenze, his voice growing softer and smoother. 'Clear your mind. Empty it of all thought, all sensation but the sounds and smells coming from the fire, the sound of my voice...'

For a moment Ron thought he might be drifting off to sleep, but...no. This was different. His mind was empty, but for the crackling and hissing of the fire, the scents in his nose, lavender, sage, and others he couldn't quite identify. He felt...detached. His body felt light.

'Listen to your breathing,' said Firenze, but his voice was far away now, distant. Ron heard the slow intake of his breath, in and out through his nostrils. The space behind his closed eyelids was entirely black, but for a hint of red where the flames cast their glow. Black and a bit of red...

_A flash of blinding white light struck Ron's closed eyes like a fist. He tensed and saw...a sword. He heard voices. Yelling..._

_'Harry, look out!'_

_'Ron, DON'T!'_

_The sound of something else, something Ron couldn't place. Blood...on the floor, on his hands, soaking his robes. He was looking up, and Harry was staring over him with an expression of horror on his face._

_'Finish it...finish it, Harry...'_

Ron's eyes flew open and he fell over onto his elbow.

'Mr. Weasley?'

Ron was panting as he pulled himself up, and when he ran a hand through his hair his forehead felt sweaty.

'Mr. Weasley, are you all right?' Firenze asked.

'I...I saw something,' said Ron. 

'What did you see?' Firenze asked. Ron started to speak and Firenze held up a hand. 'Don't tell me. Write it in your diary, now.'

Ron nodded and reached for his school bag, removing the diary and a quill. His hands were shaking as he dipped the quill into his inkpot, and he wrote down everything he'd seen. It was only a flash, but he felt drained and scared.

'Mr. Weasley?'

'Yeah, I got it,' said Ron, closing the book. 'I...what was that?'

'"That" is what happens when you unclutter your mind, Ronald,' said Firenze. 'When you push aside all mundane thought and leave yourself open. Only an open mind can accept visions and perceive Second Sight.'

'Okay,' said Ron slowly, nodding. But he didn't say what was really on his mind now: that he didn't want to be opening up his mind if it meant more visions like the one he'd just. Visions that left him weak and out of breath and terrified.

'Let us try again,' said Firenze. Ron gulped and nodded. He definitely didn't like this.

But Firenze took Ron through meditation again, and every time, Ron experienced visions. All of them frightening, all of them leaving him in a state of exhaustion, but none of them, save for the first, having anything to do with people he knew. He saw a vision of a family--German, perhaps?--a Muggle family taking a drive in the country when their car was run off the road by a lorry. He saw a man, alone in a room, crying as he wrote a note in what looked to be Chinese or Japanese figures; the man put down his pen and picked up a strange looking metal device and held it against his head, and there was a tremendous _bang!_ and a splatter of blood. 

'Enough,' Ron croaked, as he pulled himself up for a fourth time, after seeing a woman struggling with a man who was tearing at her clothes. 'No more.'

'Write it down,' said Firenze coolly, and for the fourth time, with shaking fingers, Ron wrote what he had seen. When he put down his quill, he felt utterly exhausted.

'Are you all right?' Firenze asked.

'No,' Ron said. 'What the hell was that? Why is everything I'm seeing so horrible?'

'There is much evil in the world, Ron,' said Firenze. 'Typically, a Seer who witnesses visions of great evil is one who has a desire to correct those wrongs.'

'Am I seeing the future?'

'It's difficult to say,' said Firenze. 'If you don't know the people in the visions you're witnessing, how can you tell?'

'Then what good is this?' Ron asked.

'The more you learn to See, the more you can tell the difference between what is past, present and future,' said Firenze. 'You must meditate on a daily basis.'

'What?' Ron said, appalled. He had to do...that...every single day?

'You are, if Dumbledore is correct, a True Seer,' said Firenze. 'You cannot achieve your full potential without training, and the most important part of that training is meditation.'

'Maybe I don't want to achieve my full bloody potential!' said Ron, suddenly angry, as he stood up sharply from the grassy surface of the classroom.

'If you do not,' said Firenze, 'you will be of no help to Harry Potter.'

Ron sighed. _That's what it comes down to, doesn't it?_

'Furthermore,' said Firenze, in a kinder voice, 'training will allow you to have more control over when you receive visions. Right now you are subject to a vision hitting you at random. Obviously this is not ideal; you'd hardly want to be playing Quidditch and be overtaken by a vision in the midst of a match.'

'No,' said Ron, not having considered that.

'How do you feel?'

'Like I've been rode hard and put away wet,' said Ron.

'Yes, that is usually how it is in the beginning,' said Firenze. 'The more you practice, the stronger you will become. But visions will always take their toll.'

'Lovely,' said Ron.

'You are dismissed, Mr. Weasley,' said Firenze. 'When we meet next week, same time and place, I expect you to be able to meditate for longer periods. I'll know if you haven't been practicing.'

I'll bet you will.

'So it is in your interest to keep distractions to a minimum,' Firenze went on.

'I'll try,' said Ron, through gritted teeth. _Oh, no, my life has no distractions. I'm not Head Boy, I don't have a million tons of homework to do every week, or Quidditch practice, or D.A. meetings or finding time to have a little fun with my best mate and my girlfriend..._

'Are you sexually active, Mr. Weasley?'

'What?!' Ron asked, almost falling over.

'I asked if you were--'

'Yeah, I heard,' said Ron. 'None of your bloody...I mean...I really don't think that's any of your business.'

'Sexual activity has a way of clouding the mind,' Firenze said. 'If you are indeed engaging in sexual acts, it would be wise to forego them.'

'Whoa, wait a minute,' said Ron. 'I have to...I can't...are you joking?'

'Only for the first two weeks,' said Firenze. 'And I think you should forego Quidditch practice as well. Those activities require far too much mental concentration, focus that you should be applying to your meditation.'

Ron gaped at Firenze. 'You can't be serious.'

'The fewer distractions you have, the better,' said Firenze. 'If it were up to me I'd ask Dumbledore to excuse you from your classwork, but that's not possible. In any case, it is vital that you not have the added stress of sport and sex to--'

'Sport and sex are not stressful!' said Ron. 'Those two things kept me from going barmy this summer, I'll have you know!'

Firenze shook his head. 'This is the weakness of humans. Putting the desires of the flesh above the pursuit of a higher mental and spiritual plane. Ronald, it is, after all, only two weeks I am asking of you. And if I'm not mistaken, sexual activity is prohibited within the walls of this school as it is.'

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. Firenze was right, of course. Ron and Hermione had already broken the No Fraternization Rule several times in the six days they'd been back.

_I can't bloody believe this. Two fucking WEEKS I don't get to play Quidditch or shag Hermione just so I can train my bloody mind to receive horrible images of death and rape and destruction. Oh, no, no _'added stress'_ there!_

_If he asks me to give up sweets I'm really going to lose it._

'I know this is not easy for you, Ronald,' said Firenze, a note of sympathy in his voice. 'But you see, the first two weeks of training are critical. The fewer distractions you have, the better. You'll need to meditate at least twice a day, once in the morning, once in the evening, perhaps after dinner, in order to get past the most difficult phase. You are at a disadvantage, starting your training so old; most True Seers begin their training much sooner. You will need to catch up.'

'Right,' said Ron miserably. 'Can I go now, sir?' He was tired and more than a little cranky.

'Yes,' said Firenze. 'Same time next week.'

'I can't wait,' said Ron sarcastically, but Firenze didn't seem to notice his tone; he simply strode further into the 'forest' of the classroom as Ron picked up his things and stormed out.

Ron had no appetite at dinner, and of course, Harry and Hermione immediately knew something was wrong. They talked about it only when they went to the common room, which was blessedly quiet for the first time all week.

'Was it really that bad?' Hermione asked, putting a placatory hand on his arm.

_Dammit, I really wish she wouldn't touch me. This is NOT FAIR._

'Yeah, it was,' said Ron furiously. 'He kept making me meditate over and over again and every time I had these horrible visions--'

'What sort of visions?' Hermione asked at once.

'Oh, the usual,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Blood, death, violence.'

'Ron, I meant anything specific,' said Hermione.

Ron swallowed. After leaving the session with Firenze, he'd not wanted to dwell on the vision he'd had of him and of Harry. Him, covered in blood...that sword...telling Harry to finish it. Finish what?

'There was this one thing,' Ron said finally, and he told them.

Nobody said a word for a good few minutes, but all three of them looked unsettled.

'What can it mean?' Hermione said fretfully.

'If I knew that, I'd tell you,' said Ron wearily.

'Maybe...maybe you mean for me to finish off Voldemort,' Harry suggested half-heartedly.

Ron seized on this. 'Yeah, that must be it.'

'But...but...' Hermione said, and her eyes were suddenly shiny, 'you were all...covered in blood, Ron.'

Ron looked at her and saw her lip trembling.

'It might not have been my blood,' he said quickly, and he took her hand firmly in his. 'Maybe we were just in some big battle again and...and somebody bled all over me.' 

Not much better than me bleeding everywhere, Ron thought. And yet he saw Hermione nodding fervently, as though convincing herself what he'd just said was true.

'I should add that...to the list, I suppose,' she said, biting her lip. She blinked and wiped at her face, but another tear slipped down her cheek.

'Love, don't,' Ron said, and he pulled her into his arms.

'Sorry,' she mumbled, snuggling up against him.

'It might not mean anything, Hermione,' said Harry, and he took her right hand in his.

'Harry's right,' said Ron forcefully. 'It could be nothing.'

Hermione looked at Harry and smiled weakly. Then she turned her brown gaze up to Ron and smiled again. Her eyes were glittering and she looked so beautiful and Ron felt his stomach twist again as he remembered the other part of his training.

_Fuck! Why does she have to look so good and feel so good? This is not fair!_

'There is something else,' Ron said, sitting up straighter. Hermione seemed to take his cue and extricated herself from his arms, which was no small relief for him, because just her touching him made his brain get scrambled a bit.

'What else?' Harry asked.

'I can't...' Ron looked at Harry miserably. 'I can't play Quidditch for two weeks.'

'What?' said Harry, appalled. 'That's absurd. Try-outs are tomorrow! What I am supposed to do without a Keeper?'

'I know, I know,' said Ron, putting his head in his hands. 'Look, I didn't know this was going to happen, okay?'

'Can't you talk to Firenze?' Harry asked. 'Or Dumbledore? Jesus, Ron, I need you there.'

Ron looked at Harry for a long moment, and he felt utterly wretched. Quidditch was the one thing right now that really mattered to Harry; it was his greatest escape from his troubles and his fears. Ron couldn't imagine not being there for the try-outs to pick the team, Harry's last school Quidditch team.

'I'll talk to Dumbledore,' said Ron. 'First thing tomorrow.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, and there was a long silence.

'Why on earth would Firenze ask you not to play Quidditch?' Hermione asked.

'Because apparently sport is too big a distraction,' said Ron bitterly. 'He wants me to meditate all the bloody time and he says if I play Quidditch my mind'll be focused on that and not on what I'm supposed to be doing.'

'That's silly,' said Hermione. 'Quidditch isn't the only distraction. You've got homework, Head Boy duties--'

'Yeah, well,' said Ron, 'Firenze said if it were up to him, he'd ask for me to be excused from all of that, but he can't do that, so he says I just have to give up the fun stuff.'

Hermione started to say something, but then she looked at him and her eyes went wide. 'You mean...all the fun stuff?'

'Uh, oh,' said Harry.

'That too, love,' said Ron, running a hand through his hair. 'Shit.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, swallowing and looking a bit embarrassed.

'So...' said Harry slowly. 'No Quidditch, no shagging...yeah, that really does suck.'

'Harry!' said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

'He's right,' said Ron fervently. Hermione turned slightly pink but she smiled sympathetically.

'What does that mean for tomorrow night?' Harry asked suddenly. 'You know--'

'The plan's on,' said Ron firmly. ''Mione and I are on patrols, anyway, we've set it up, might as well do it. I just have to work out how we're going to get back out of there, that's all.'

'Good,' said Harry. 

There was another silence, which Ron broke at last.

'Yeah, so, for the next two weeks, I don't get to hang out with my best mate and play Quidditch or...be alone with my girl,' he said grumpily. 'And I get to see visions of people dying and getting injured and bloody and stuff. So, don't, you know, take it personally if I bite anyone's head off. Because I'm telling you right now, I'm going to be in a really pissy mood.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and shook their heads.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: Yay! Finally, Chapter Twenty is here. Just a note, folks: I added just a bit to Chapter Nineteen that's worth checking out; it's basically just tying up a few loose ends that I had. The additions are at the very beginning and the very end, though, so you don't have to go scrolling all over the place.**

**I know what you're all thinking. Where is the PLOT to this thing? It's coming, I promise. Suffice it to say that Ron's little vision in this chapter provides a hint. **

**Oh yeah, and I could not resist borrowing a line from the PoA trailer, which by now I'm sure all of you have seen. You know what line I mean. :D**

**Next chapter should be up in a week's time. And yes, there will be Quidditch try-outs, a visit to the Chamber and a date with Daphne, at the very least.**


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Back to the Chamber

_Chapter Twenty-One: Back to the Chamber_

Harry couldn't have asked for better weather for the Quidditch try-outs on Saturday afternoon, and to his immense relief, Ron had been true to his word and had, in his words, 'begged and pleaded with Dumbledore' to make one exception to his training, in order that he could participate in the try-outs. 

'I threw out the "it's for Harry's sake" card,' said Ron, as he pulled on his old Quidditch gloves. He and Harry were dressing in the changing rooms near the pitch. 

'I swear, Harry, you could probably ask Dumbledore for a pet dragon and I think the old man would give it to you.'

'It's the guilt,' said Harry, a bit harshly. 'He feels bad because I'm the bloody Chosen One.'

'That's not the only reason and you know it,' said Ron sharply, giving Harry a pointed look.

Harry met Ron's blue gaze and let out a breath.

'You're right, it's not,' he said, feeling a weight in his chest. 

'Nobody lives forever, Harry.'

'Hey, are you two decent in there?' Ginny called.

'Yeah, come in, Gin,' Ron called back, and Ginny came inside.

She gave Harry a warm smile and Harry suddenly noticed just how small she looked in all the Quidditch gear. All of her gear was used or second hand; she was using Katie Bell's leg guards, which Ginny had clearly shortened to fit over her smaller, shorter legs; her trousers had belonged to Alicia Spinnet, and they, too, had been shortened. Her gloves and arm guards were a size too large and the leather was cracking. The entire ensemble gave Ginny a look of vulnerability, that was belied by her neatly braided hair and the determined look on her freckled face.

_Wow. She even looks fantastic in a beat up old Quidditch uniform._

'You two ready?' she asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Did you get a look at the prospects?'

'Well,' said Ginny, not sounding too enthused, 'the Creeveys are back. Colin wants to try for Beater and Dennis wants the Chaser spot. There's a third year girl called Lizzie something who wants Chaser, too.'

'Lizzie Towler,' said Ron. 

'A couple of fifth year boys--I can't remember their names--up for Beater as well,' said Ginny. 'A lot of girls out there, though. Lavender's here.'

'Lavender?' said Ron and Harry together.

'She's trying out?' said Ron incredulously.

'No way, are you kidding?' said Ginny. 'And break one of her nails? Nah, she's just here for Parvati and Seamus.'

'What's that?' said a male voice. 'Are you talkin' about me, Weasley?'

Seamus Finnigan entered the changing room, dressed and holding his broom, followed by Parvati Patil, who was dressed in brand new, highly polished gear and looked devastating.

Focus, Potter. Good lord, this is a try-out, this is not the time to be checking out your teammates!

Parvati flashed him a brilliant smile.

'Ready, Harry?' she asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry, feeling his neck get a bit hot. He gestured for the team to gather round him. 'Er, right. So we've got two spots this year for sure but I was thinking it might be wise to have some reserve spots, too.'

'Why?' Seamus asked.

Harry gave Ron and Ginny a look; they knew why.

'Just in case,' said Harry, turning his eyes to Seamus. Seamus might not know about the prophecy but he knew enough of Harry's history with Voldemort to understand, and for once, he simply nodded and said nothing.

'So,' Harry went on, 'I want one reservist for every position--that means six positions total. The reservists don't have to be brilliant, they just have to show they can fly decently and have some potential to improve. Hopefully we won't need them, anyway. Sound good so far?'

The other teammates nodded, and Harry continued. 'Speaking of reservists, I'm going to ask one of you to volunteer to help them out if they need it, with flying or passing or whatever. I'd do it myself but--'

'Seamus and I will do it,' said Parvati at once. 'You've got enough on your plate, Harry.' And she put a leather-clad hand on his arm and smiled warmly.

'Right,' said Harry, not sure if she was flirting or just being friendly. Part of him hoped she was flirting. 'So, let's get out there and see who fits.'

Seamus, Ron and Parvati headed out first, leaving Ginny and Harry, briefly, alone.

'Well, well,' said Ginny. 'How about Parvati?'

Harry blushed. 'What about her?'

'Harry, are you blind?' said Ginny. 'She was flirting with you like nobody's business.'

'Was she?' Harry said, trying to sound non-committal. 'Well, er, that's nice but...but I have a date with Daphne tomorrow.'

'You have a date with Daphne,' said Ginny. 'You're not her boyfriend.'

'What's that mean?' Harry asked, as he opened the trunk of Quidditch balls to check their condition.

'I'm just saying, have fun, Harry,' she said, and Harry caught a note of...something in her voice. 'Lots of girls seem to be really interested in you this year.'

'Bollocks,' said Harry, and he was really blushing now and felt distinctly uncomfortable. In part because of how he felt about Ginny--his attraction for her hadn't waned at all--but also because...he wasn't sure he liked hearing from her that he should be pursuing girls left and right.

'Grab that side, would you?' Harry asked, indicating the end of the trunk. 

'It's true,' she said, picking up her end of the ball trunk. 'Everyone knows you're single now, Harry. Lots of girls are happy about that.'

'Yeah, well, those "lots of girls" probably like The Boy Who Lived, not me,' said Harry bitterly. 

'Not all of them,' said Ginny, in a very soft voice. Harry stopped and looked at her, and saw that her face was sad, but she was smiling. He looked into her eyes for a long moment and felt something pinching in his chest, a small ache.

'I know, Gin,' he said, and he smiled sadly back at her. 

_I feel the same way. _

_If Voldemort hadn't...if she didn't hurt, if she didn't feel actual pain every time she touched me..._

She nodded, and he said, 'Let's do this try-out, okay?'

'Yeah, let's,' she said, and they started out of the changing rooms and headed onto the pitch.

The try-outs went well, all told. Initially Harry's mind kept drifting to Ginny, but very quickly he became focused on the task at hand.

The turn-out was better than he expected, Harry had to admit. About fifteen hopefuls had shown up, including the Creeveys, Lizzie Towler, and...

'Dean,' said Harry, a bit surprised to see Dean Thomas. 'You're here as well? I didn't know you could play.'

'I got into it over the summer,' said Dean, shrugging. 'Went to visit Seamus and we did a lot of flying. Figured I'd go for Beater.'

'Cool,' said Harry. 'Well, good luck. See you up there in a bit.'

The try-outs began.

Harry quickly eliminated three younger students, a second year boy and two fourth year girls, from the contention; they all flew so badly that one of them nearly fell off her broom twice.

The Creeveys, however, had greatly improved. Colin put in an impressive showing as a Beater. His aim was still off from time to time and he was a bit on the small side for a Beater--even now at sixteen Colin was a slight, small boy--but he had developed a good eye for spotting the Bludgers early and he was handling his broom--a Cleansweep Twelve--very well. Nobody else came close to matching Colin for the Beater spot, and Harry made a mental note to add Colin Creevey to the team.

Colin's brother Dennis flew for Chaser and he was pretty good, but then Harry had him fly for Seeker, and he was even better.

Reserve Seeker, definitely, Harry thought. Dennis was even smaller than Colin but his eye was even sharper--he was able to spot the Snitch quickly and he flew quite well. The Creeveys had clearly been practicing.

Then it was Dean's turn. Dean looked nervous, and Harry noticed he'd been stealing looks at Colin frequently; Dean knew he'd have to fly and hit the Bludgers better than Colin to win the Beater spot.

The moment Dean took to the air, though, Harry knew Dean wasn't going to be a Beater. He flew very well, and was especially good at making tight, quick turns on his broom, which was a Nimbus 2001. But his aim with the bat was ghastly, and his hands were so big that he alternately fumbled with the bat and nearly dropped it, or, when he went to hit a Bludger, it wound up smacking his fingers instead.

Harry called a time-out and flew over to Dean.

'Sorry,' he said glumly. 'I guess I suck at this.'

'No, you don't,' said Harry. 'Your flying is good, and you have a good eye, too.'

'But...'

'Beater's...not your bag,' said Harry gently. 'But hang out. I want to try you as a Keeper.'

'What about Ron?'

'This is a reserve spot,' said Harry. 'Interested?'

'Sure,' said Dean, shrugging, and he nodded to Harry before heading back down to the pitch.

Several more hopefuls gave it their best effort, but after Colin, none of the Beater prospects came close--none of them even showing enough potential to be a reserve player--and the only excellent Chaser was Lizzie Towler, who Harry vaguely remembered was Kenneth Towler's kid sister. Dean tried as Keeper and did pretty well--well enough to be a reserve Keeper, anyway. A fourth-year girl called Natalie MacDonald proved to be a decent Chaser and Harry decided to add her on as a reserve.

The try-outs ended; the teammates headed to the Gryffindor tent to discuss the new players--everyone agreed on Harry's choices--and then headed to the showers.

Harry took his time; he suddenly felt very tired from the rigours of the try-outs, but he was restless as well. About his conversation with Ginny, about going into the Chamber...

He shut off the shower, grabbed his towel, and dried himself off quickly. He was just pulling on his trousers when he heard movement behind him.

He snatched up his wand from the nearby bench and whirled round, pointing it at the intruder.

It was Parvati.

'Jesus!' Harry breathed. 'Parvati!'

'Sorry,' she said quickly. 

'You shouldn't sneak up on me,' he said, suddenly feeling a bit exposed and becoming very aware that he didn't have a shirt on.

'You're right,' she said. 'Sorry. Good reflexes, though.'

Harry swallowed and felt heat creeping up his neck. 'Yeah, well...I'm a Seeker.'

She walked slowly towards him, her hips swaying. She had showered and changed out of her Quidditch things and was wearing form-fitting jeans and a rather snug, pale violet jumper.

'Er...' said Harry, wondering just what she was doing, why she was looking at him the way she was. He wanted to grab his own jumper and yank it on but he couldn't seem to move.

'Can I...help you, Parvati?' he said, his voice sounding very fluttery in his ears.

'I just wanted to ask you something,' she said, looking up at him through her thick, dark eyelashes.

'Really?' said Harry, and now she was much too close, and...Merlin!...her eyes were skipping over his chest, then back up to his face.

'Hogsmeade weekend is in three weeks,' she said. 'Want to go with me?'

Harry blinked. 'What?'

'Hogsmeade weekend,' said Parvati. 'Do you want to go--'

'Oh,' said Harry, and he bit his lip. 'Er, you're...you're not still sore at me for being a bad date at the Yule Ball?'

She laughed, and it wasn't her usual giggle, it was low and throaty.

'Good lord, Harry, that was three years ago,' she said. 'We were just stupid kids. But you've...grown up since then, I think.' She looked him up and down again.

Harry laughed nervously. 'I...I like to think so.' 

_Oh, she is far, FAR too close now. She smells...is that...what is that scent?_

_Gardenias. Mmm..._

'Anyway,' Parvati went on, and she ran a hand through her thick black hair, which was loose and looked like black silk hanging down her back, 'do you want to go?'

'Okay,' said Harry weakly. He felt like she'd put a spell on him. Maybe she had, maybe that's why he couldn't move, couldn't breathe too well, couldn't think...

'Great!' she said, smiling widely, showing off brilliantly white, even teeth. 'I should go, I have to meet Lavender, we're working on a big project for Divination. But...let's plan on meeting after breakfast on Hogsmeade day, okay?'

'Sure,' said Harry, and before he really knew what was happening, she pressed a kiss on his lips. 

It was quick and very chaste, considering the way she'd been ogling him just now, and immediately afterward she giggled--her real giggle--and hurried out of the boys' changing room, her hair--and her hips--swinging.

Harry stared after her, blinking.

_What the hell did I just do?_

_You agreed to go on a date with Parvati Patil._

_Yeah, but what about Ginny?_

_What about Ginny? You can't be with her, you know why, she can't even touch you without it hurting her, do you really want to do that to her? She pushed you away, anyway. Do you want that again, after Susan?_

_No. No, I don't. I like Ginny but..._

_But you can't go out with her. You'll just have to be friends with her. Better that than nothing._

_Yeah, but...what about Daphne?_

_What about her? You have a date with her tomorrow, but she's not your girlfriend._

_Yeah, but--_

_What's the problem? Parvati's gorgeous and she asked you out and you said yes. Daphne has nothing to do with this._

_But what if I want to go out with Daphne again? What if I decide I want to go with HER to Hogsmeade?_

_You'll just have to find a way to deal with that, then. Come on, man, it's not every day you have two beautiful girls throwing themselves at you._

_How do I know they don't just want me because I'm...I'm...'Famous bloody Harry Potter?'_

_Who cares?_

_Yeah, but...wait, this is all wrong! I can't date two girls at the same time, that's just...that's just..._

_Really, really cool._

_I'm a whore._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry managed to avoid Parvati for the rest of the day, and in any case, as dinner passed and midnight drew closer, it was easy enough to put his girl troubles out of his mind and concentrate on the Chamber.

_Where would the safe be?_ he wondered. It occurred to him that perhaps he ought to have asked Dumbledore more specifically about the exact location of the vault. 

And then something else occurred to him. Supposed Dumbledore had put up enchantments to protect the safe? Enchantments like those that had guarded the Philosopher's Stone? He didn't fancy having to go wrestle with Devil's Snare or go through another life-sized wizard chess match. He thought back to first year, when Ron had allowed the black queen to take his knight, how the stone figure had smashed him in the head and knocked him to the ground, leaving him still, motionless on the black and white board. Harry shuddered. 

No, he definitely didn't want anything like that to happen again.

He had half a mind to hurry to Dumbledore's office to ask him just such a question, but suddenly it was nearly midnight, and Harry knew he wouldn't have time to go see Dumbledore and make it back to the common room on time.

_Dammit! Why didn't I think of asking before?_

_It's not like you haven't had other things on your mind this week_.

That was certainly true. On top of everything--classes, Quidditch, Ginny, Daphne, and now Parvati--he'd been trying to stay on top of his connection to Voldemort. Now that Ron was no longer bunking in the dormitory, Harry realized--with no small amount of shame--that he needed somebody else there to help him in case the visions came again and made him sick. Harry had approached Neville earlier that week and, with a very red face, had asked Neville if he wouldn't mind...dealing with Harry in such circumstances, and Neville had said 'Sure, I'll do that, Harry.' 

Nothing more was said, and nothing needed to be said, and Harry was immensely grateful to Neville for his discretion and understanding. Harry had then gone to Ron about the whole issue and while Ron put on a good show of being relieved--and Harry knew that he at least partly was--Ron nonetheless looked a bit uneasy. Harry had pressed him on what was wrong, and Ron confessed, very haltingly, that he felt like he was letting Harry down, not being there.

'Don't be a prat, Ron,' Harry had said. 'If anyone hasn't let me down, ever, it's you.'

Ron had blushed and Harry suddenly realized what he'd said, and they both nodded.

'Anyway, you've got your Head Boy stuff,' Harry had mumbled. 'Don't worry about it.'

And then they'd mumbled a few more things that Harry couldn't remember and shook hands.

But for all this, Neville hadn't had to deal with Harry at all this week, because Voldemort was, once again, silent. Harry had tried to use his Legilimens skills but he wasn't getting anything. Voldemort's silence always made Harry more nervous even than his happiness or anger--silence meant that Voldemort was planning something, and it was usually something big, if last year was anything to go on.

_At least now the book is destroyed, Harry thought. He can't use it again...unless...he didn't copy down that potion and spell did he?_

_No. He didn't. I don't know how I know this but...I just do. He makes mistakes that way--he gets overconfident and he forgets little details. Sort of like I do sometimes._

Harry made a mental note to file that bit of information away in his mind and tell Hermione to add it to the list. Another potential weakness in the Dark Lord that might be explored, exploited.

The chiming of the clock yanked Harry away from his thoughts of Voldemort. It was midnight.

It was time to go back down into the Chamber of Secrets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I still can't believe the entrance to the Chamber is here,' said Hermione, her voice tinged with amusement and disbelief.

Harry folded up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it under his arm.

'At least it's not through a toilet,' Ron pointed out. He glanced at Ginny, who was rubbing her arms. 'You okay, Gin?'

'Yes,' said Ginny, a bit harshly. 'That's the tenth time you've asked me that, Ron.'

'Sorry,' said Ron defensively.

'You're sure you want to do this, Ginny?' Harry asked gently, touching her arm just briefly. He felt a rush of heat through his fingertips and felt it: her emotions, flooding his mind. She was scared. No, she was terrified. But she was also angry and determined.

_She might be the bravest girl I've ever met._

'I'm sure,' she said softly, and Harry removed his hand from her arm, hoping he hadn't caused her any physical discomfort by touching her. 

'It's okay,' she said. 'I've been using the Pensieve. It helps.'

'Ooh,' said a hollow female voice suddenly, and the four of them whirled round. It was Moaning Myrtle.

'What are you all doing here?' she asked suspiciously.

'Hi, Myrtle,' said Harry quickly, striving to sound friendly. The last thing they needed was for her to start blubbering. Or worse, to start blabbing to others.

'Hi, Harry,' she said, and Harry was quite sure if ghosts could blush, Myrtle had just done so. 'I've missed you.'

'Er, me too,' said Harry, forcing a grin. 'Listen, we just have some stuff to pick up--'

'Down there?' said Myrtle, her eyes wide.

'Yeah, down there,' said Harry. 'We're sorry to disturb you, we'll just hurry along and get out of your way--'

'You mean...you don't want to stay and talk to me?' Myrtle asked, and Harry groaned inwardly when he saw her pearly lower lip begin to tremble.

Harry exchanged desperate looks with Ron and Hermione.

'W-we can't, Myrtle,' said Hermione quickly in a very conciliatory voice. 'You see, we're on an errand for Dumbledore, and it's very important that we work quickly.'

'What sort of errand?' said Myrtle.

'We...can't tell you,' said Hermione.

That was the wrong thing to say.

'Why NOT?' Myrtle keened. 'Nobody ever tells me anything! It's not fair!'

'Myrtle, shush!' Harry hissed desperately. 'Look, we'll...we'll tell you, okay?'

'Harry!' Hermione hissed.

Harry ignored her and focused on Myrtle. 'You have to swear to keep it a secret, though.'

Myrtle's demeanor changed again--it was amazing, really how she could go from sobbing to cooing to laughing in a matter of a few seconds--and she floated right up to Harry.

'Oooh,' she said gleefully. 'A secret! I can keep a secret.'

'I'll be you can,' Ron muttered under his breath, but Myrtle wasn't listening to him.

'Okay,' said Harry, coming up with the first lie he could think of. 'We have to go down there because...because there's a vault with some stuff in it that belongs to Dumbledore.'

Well, it wasn't a total lie, which was probably why Myrtle seemed to accept this explanation.

'What sort of stuff?' she asked.

'We don't know,' said Harry truthfully. 'Not yet.'

'Will you tell me once you find out?' Myrtle asked, twirling back and forth and smiling flirtatiously.

_Great bloody hell, now I've got the ghost of a dead girl flirting with me!_

'That depends,' said Harry, easing into his story. 'We might not be able to get that safe open, and if that happens, we'll just have to drag it back up here, and we won't know at all. But...if we do find out we'll tell you.'

'OOOOH!' Myrtle shrieked happily, and Harry quickly shushed her. She had the grace to look embarrassed.

'Sorry,' she said, and then she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. 'I won't say a word, Harry. Your secret is safe with me.'

'Good,' said Harry.

'After all,' Myrtle went on, 'I never said a word about her going down there, did I?' And she pointed at Ginny.

Ginny blanched.

_Dammit! Nice going, Myrtle. Stupid bitch. If you weren't a ghost I might..._

'You knew about that?' said Ron angrily.

'And you never said anything?' said Harry.

'You never asked,' said Myrtle primly. 'That's the problem! Nobody ever talks to me!' She started to bawl.

Harry and Ron gaped at her, but Ginny stepped forward.

'Listen, Myrtle, can you do us a favor,' she said, keeping her voice even as colour slowly returned to her cheeks. 'Can you stand guard for us?' 

'What?' said Myrtle, and she stopped crying at once.

'Yeah,' said Ginny. 'We need someone to be a look-out, in case Filch comes along.'

'Ooh, I'd love that!' said Myrtle, clapping her hands. 

'I thought you would,' said Ginny dryly. 'Listen, we'll need you to hang out outside this bathroom, okay? And if you see Filch, create a diversion.'

'What sort of a diversion?' said Myrtle.

'I'm sure you'll think of something,' said Ginny. 'Something really, really clever.'

'Of course I will!' said Myrtle, puffing up her chest with pride, and she gave a happy cackle and started to float out of the bathroom, but then she turned and gave Ron a beaming smile.

'I hope you'll come back to the prefects' bathroom, Ronald.' She giggled and floated away.

Ron's ears went red and he looked away. 'Not in this lifetime,' he muttered, ignoring Hermione's questioning look.

'Let's go,' said Ginny tightly as she exited the cubicle.

Hermione, however, was looking at Ron.

'Why did she want you to visit the prefects' bathroom?' she asked.

'No reason,' said Ron stupidly.

'Ron--'

'Myrtle caught him bathing last winter,' said Harry at once. 'She likes hanging out in there and spying on people.'

'Thanks, Harry, for that reminder,' said Ron.

'Myrtle saw you naked?' said Ginny, looking both amused and disgusted.

'Just my bum, thank you!' said Ron, and he was so red now his head looked like a giant tomato. 

'Your cute, freckled bum,' said Harry, grinning. 'That's how she described it, I think.'

'Hey, she saw you naked, too!' Ron snapped.

'Really?' said Ginny. 'I hadn't heard this.'

'Forget it,' said Harry quickly. 'We need to get down there.'

'Why didn't you tell me about Myrtle?' Hermione asked Ron.

'Because it was embarrassing and disturbing, okay?' said Ron. 'And we'd just started going out and I didn't think you'd want to hear about my naked arse yet.'

'That's lovely, Ron,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

'Okay,' said Hermione, not paying attention to Ginny. 'I understand.' She smiled and to Harry's great surprise, she seemed to accept this explanation (which sounded perfectly logical to Harry, anyway--who wouldn't be disturbed at being spied on in the nude by Moaning Myrtle?)

'Let's get this over with, okay?' Ron suggested. He headed over to a corner of the bathroom and picked up a pile of something that looked very old and dusty. 

'Rope?' said Harry. 'We're using rope to climb out?'

'Unless you have a better idea,' said Ron. 'Dumbledore gave it to me when I went to talk to him this morning. He said it's better than it looks.'

'If you say so,' said Harry doubtfully, but Ron was already tying one end of the rope to the pedestal of a nearby sink.

'Do you remember how to open the door?' Hermione asked.

'I think so,' said Harry. 'I haven't spoken Parseltongue in a while, I could be rusty at it.'

He looked for the snake on the tap and found it; he brushed his fingers across it.

'Okay,' he said, stepping back and taking a deep breath. 'Here goes.'

He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them, picturing a snake in his mind. The basilisk, sixty feet long and monstrous and hissing...

_'Open.'_

He heard the word leave his lips, knew what it meant, and yet the hissing sounded strange in his ears, but a moment later there was a loud clang and the sinks began to slide apart.

'Step back,' he said to Hermione, who was gazing at the proceedings in awe.

Ron guided Hermione backwards, pulling the rope back with him so that it didn't get caught on anything, and finally, the Chamber was open.

Again.

Harry approached the edge of the huge pipe leading down, and there was nothing but blackness.

'Looks the same,' he said dryly. Beside him, Ginny stared down the hole, her eyes fixed. A muscle in her jaw was working.

'Okay,' said Ron. 'I think instead of just jumping down there we should try to climb down. Can everyone do that?'

Ginny and Harry nodded and Hermione gave a shrug.

'I'll try,' she said, a bit sheepishly.

'I'll help you, love,' said Ron, and he pitched the free end of the rope down the hole.

Nobody said a word for a long moment.

Finally, Ron spoke.

'I hope whatever your parents left behind is good stuff, Harry,' he said, with a glance at Ginny.

'Me, too,' said Harry, smiling grimly at him, then at Ginny and Hermione.

'I'll go first,' said Ron. 'Girls in the middle and Harry can bring up the rear.'

He picked up the rope and lowered himself over the edge, and when he was halfway in darkness he looked up and instructed Hermione to follow. She bit her lip and grabbed onto the rope, and it took a good minute or so for her to get herself over the edge.

As her bushy hair faded into the darkness, Ginny looked at Harry for a moment before taking up the rope and leaping gracefully over the side.

Harry picked up the rope, and his last thought before he swung his legs over the edge of the hole was that he hoped Ginny knew what she was getting herself into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Well,' said Ron, looking round the bottom of the pit. 'Looks like somebody cleaned up the place a bit.'

'Are you serious?' said Hermione. 'It's filthy down here.' She brushed impatiently at some dirt that had attached itself to her robes.

'Believe me, Hermione, this is an improvement,' said Harry. 'At least there aren't any animal skeletons lying around.'

'Or giant snake skins,' said Ron, as they started toward the opening of the Chamber. He muttered '_Lumos_' under his breath and his wand-tip lit up, and Ginny and Hermione followed suit.

'Or idiot Defense professors,' said Harry, lighting his wand along the others. 'I wonder if Lockhart remembers who he is yet?'

They all laughed for a moment, and then seemed to remember where they were, and they started down the long tunnel leading to the doorway of the Chamber. Now and again rats would skitter along, and Hermione, in particular, would jump.

'I can't believe you ever had a rat as a pet, Ron,' she muttered, dodging yet another squeaking rat.

'He wasn't really a rat,' said Ron. 'Oh, wait, yeah, he was.'

'Here it is,' said Harry, noticing the round, vaulted door with the snakes decorating it. 'I hope this works.'

He stood in front of the door and concentrated for a moment, and then said _'Open.'_

A clang broke the silence of the tunnel, and an iron snake slithered round in a circle as the others slid back, unlocking the door one bolt at a time.

Finally, the heavy door swung open.

'Well,' said Harry, 'this is it. I'll go first.'

'I've got the rear,' said Ron. Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes but didn't protest the constant 'girls in the middle' thing. 

Harry climbed through the doorway and then down the small ladder and turned, and sucked in his breath.

The Chamber was empty, but the sculpture at the far end of Salazar Slytherin, with its gaping mouth, was still there. Harry shuddered. Even if no basilisk came out of it, it was unsettling.

He heard a heavy breath behind him and turned to see Ginny. She was pale and looked nervous.

'You don't have to do this,' said Harry.

'Yeah, I do,' said Ginny. Ron and Hermione came down the ladder, and Hermione squeaked when she saw the Slytherin statue.

'Sorry,' she said, her voice echoing in the Chamber. 'This place is...ghastly.'

'Come on,' said Harry. 'Let's split up and look around. I want to find this safe and get the hell out of here.'

'Are you sure we should split up?' Ron asked, glancing nervously at Ginny.

'Ron--'

'We'll go in pairs, then,' said Harry. 'Come on, Ginny.'

She gave him a look, but followed him to the right, while Ron and Hermione headed to the left.

He and Ginny explored the many tunnels, and it was fortunate for them that they all led back into the chamber itself, else they would have gotten lost. For the life of him he couldn't imagine where this safe or vault might be.

An hour passed in fruitless, silent searching, and Harry only grew frustrated and tired as a result. He was just about to call it quits and gather the others when he heard Ron calling to him.

'What?' Harry asked, as he and Ginny jogged to the center of the Chamber.

'I think Hermione found something,' Ron said. 'Come on.'

He gestured for them to follow, and they did, round the front of the Slytherin statue. Hermione was standing there looking down into the pool of green, brackish water. 

'Down there,' she said uneasily. 'It looks like...like something.'

Harry strained his eyes, leaning over the edge of the pool. The pool was not as deep as he'd originally thought. Of course, the last time he was in here he was too busy running from the basilisk to give the depth of the pool any notice.

He saw it almost at once; a black, rectangular shape. It was metal, judging by the way the edges of it had corroded with rust, but he didn't see any knobs or doors on it.

'It's a box of some kind,' he said. 'Do you reckon?'

'Only one way to find out,' Ron quipped. 'Let's levitate it, yeah?'

He and Ron both used a Levitation Charm, but the box proved so heavy that Hermione added her own. It was only when the box was lifted out of the pool and set carefully onto the solid stone floor that Harry noticed Ginny had been silent for a good few minutes.

He turned his attention away from the dripping black box to look at Ginny.

She was white and trembling and staring at the floor just a few feet from where Harry stood.

'Ginny?' Harry said, and he rushed to her side.

'What?' Ron said sharply, his head snapping up. 'Shit, Ginny.' He and Hermione hurried to join Harry.

'What's wrong?' Harry asked.

'Just...just...' she whispered, 'that's where...that's where I fell...when...when he brought me down here and...and...'

'We shouldn't have brought her down here,' said Ron grimly.

'Ginny, it's okay,' said Harry, ignoring Ron. 'He's gone, he can't hurt you.'

'Let's get out of here, please,' said Hermione.

Ginny was shaking now, badly, and she looked up at them with huge, scared brown eyes.

'I knew what he wanted from me,' she whispered. 'That last time, I knew...he wanted my soul, he said he needed it...and I went...I couldn't...stop myself. And...and he started to...to take me away...to take my soul out of my body and I couldn't stop him...' 

'Ginny--' Ron began.

'It didn't hurt, Ron,' said Ginny, and she started to cry. 'He was killing me...and it didn't hurt, and I didn't care...I just wanted...I don't know what I wanted, I didn't want him to leave...' She broke down, and Ron pulled her into his arms and held her.

'Shh, it's okay, Ginny,' he murmured. 

Harry felt his heart ache. She shouldn't be down here. He never should have agreed to let her come. He should have Stunned her first. 

Ron pulled back from his sister and wiped the tears from her face.

'We're leaving right now, okay?' he said, gripping her shoulders. 'You never have to come back here. You never have to see this place again.'

Ginny nodded, looking small and vulnerable.

'Let's go,' Ron said firmly; he put an arm around Ginny's shoulders and he, Harry and Hermione levitated the heavy box out of the Chamber. The four of them headed back to the entrance of the Chamber, and the only sounds that echoed through the narrow corridors were their footsteps, and Ron's soothing words to his sister as she struggled to hold herself together.

But Harry's mind was screaming, with all the hatred for Voldemort he had ever felt.

_____________________________________________________________

**A/N: At last, the chapter is done. I know I promised you Harry's Date with Daphne, but sorry, the chapter was getting too long and I still think it's a bit too long as it is. In any case, the next chapter will definitely deal with Daphne and that stuff in that black box.**

**Regarding Harry, before any of you get upset that I'm making him into Whore!Harry, like I said, he won't be. But he is a single guy with a lot of girls interested in him, for the first time in his life, really. So he's going to have a little fun with that. **

**As for the next chapter, honestly, I really can't make any promises as to when it will be up. Again, I apologize, but life is really busy for me at the moment and I feel lucky just to get new material going at all. I am also going out of town this weekend, which means I probably won't get a chance to do much writing at all, so don't count on Chapter 22 before sometime next week. I do my best, and that's all I can do. Thanks for your patience.**

**Meantime, I have a few other "announcements."**

**The good news is my website is up. The bad news is it's not even close to being finished. But you CAN access a certain James/Lily story by clicking on my author name; the URL should come up. The only story up right now is AVTL, and it hasn't been completely posted yet. Clicking on the AVTL link will take you to my MSN group page; in order to view the fics there you will have to register, I'm afraid. But it is free and it's easy. I ask everyone that does join to please read my Author's Note, as it contains more detailed info about the stuff there. To read documents, click on the Documents link to the left of the screen.**

**I will be posting the remainder of AVTL probably in the next two weeks. I wanted to e-mail chapters to people but I just got way, way too busy, so hopefully this will be a fair alternative.**


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: Surprises

**A/N: Chapter contains a lot of nasty language.**

_Chapter Twenty-Two: Surprises_

It was only when they were all out of Myrtle's bathroom altogether that Ginny stopped trembling. They were saved from having to explain to Myrtle the contents of the box when Harry noticed, upon lowering it onto the tile floor of the loo, that it had no discernible lock or lid anywhere on it. Myrtle accepted this explanation with surprising good grace but looked supremely disappointed that nobody had died.

Upon leaving Myrtle's loo the four of them determined that the only place to take the box would be Ron's room; it was the best place to keep the box safe and allow for any level of privacy once they got it open.

_If we get it open, Harry thought grimly._

The trip to Ron's room was largely uneventful but took time; Hermione insisted on conducting patrols as she and Ron were expected to do, and Harry and Ginny could do nothing but go along, hidden with the box beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Ginny was quiet and had that determined look on her face again, but Harry caught something else in her expression: shame. She was ashamed of having broken down. He resisted the urge to comfort her, knowing she would only resent the gesture.

At last they reached Ron's room; there was nobody in the corridor, so Harry pulled the cloak off himself, Ginny and the box. He heard Ron mutter a password, and the heavy oak door to his room glowed briefly before the door itself clicked open softly.

They hurried inside and Ron shut the door softly behind them, locking it. Harry chuckled inwardly at the sight of the mess in the room; clothes and robes and books were strewn haphazardly all over the place.

'Finally,' he said. 'Ginny, are you--'

'I'm fine,' said Ginny, her voice a little tight. 

'Honestly, Ron,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes. 'This room was spotless too days ago.'

'I've been busy,' said Ron defensively. 'And anyway, I'm shite with Cleaning Charms, you know that.'

'Don't swear,' said Hermione.

'I think he wants you to clean it up, Hermione,' said Ginny, smirking.

'Fat chance,' said Hermione. 'I'm his girlfriend, not his maid.'

'See, Harry,' said Ron, grinning, 'that's the trouble with these modern, independent women. They never want to help a bloke out.'

'I'm happy to help Harry open this box,' Hermione said primly.

'Good thing,' said Harry, pulling the little gold key from his robe pocket, 'because I don't see where or how I'm supposed to use this key.'

'Well, I'd guess the lock is magically concealed,' said Hermione, and she pulled out her wand and tapped the box with it. _'Reveal!'_

Nothing happened. Ron and Ginny followed suit, and again, there was no result.

'Perhaps it's charmed only to accept a spell from the owner,' Hermione suggested.

Harry tapped the box with his own wand and said the incantation, but nothing happened.

'Password, do you reckon?' said Ron. 

'It looks that way,' said Hermione.

'Great,' said Harry. 'A password? How on earth am I supposed to know what sort of password my parents would use? It could be anything.'

'Don't be silly, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Your parents would have chosen something they could remember easily.'

'Like a birthday?' Ginny suggested.

'No, something less obvious,' said Hermione. 'Like…what about Prongs? Your father's nickname?'

Harry shrugged. 'That's as good as any, I guess,' he said, and he tapped the box with his wand again and said, very clearly, 'Prongs.'

Nothing.

He looked up at the others and let out a breath. What other things would his father have used?

'Snivellus,' said Harry, tapping the box. 

Nothing. 

'Padfoot. Moony. Marauders. Snitch. Quaffle. Bludger. Dammit! Why didn't my parents tell Dumbledore the stupid password?'

'Harry, wait…' said Ginny. 'Didn't you say that your mum was the one who asked Dumbledore to be the secret keeper? What if the password has something to do with her?'

'Right,' said Harry, seizing on this idea, but at once his shoulders sagged. 'Except I know less about my mum than my dad. I mean, I know she was Head Girl and she had red hair and green eyes and was pretty and a nice person, and that's about it.'

'Harry,' said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. 'What about her maiden name?'

'Evans?' Harry said, and suddenly, the black box glowed green for a moment. Nobody said a word for a moment, and then Harry tapped the box again with his wand and said 'Evans.'

The box glowed green again, only this time, the green light moved. The outline of a lid became apparent, and a brilliant green square appeared at the lip of the lid. The green glow then flashed and disappeared, and left behind was a small gold locking mechanism.

'Thanks, Hermione,' said Harry, grinning. 

'My girl is brilliant,' said Ron, and he was grinning, too. Hermione blushed.

'Not really,' she said humbly. 'It just makes sense. Harry's mum was a Muggle-born and whenever Muggles set up bank accounts they usually have to give their mother's maiden name as a password. And she'd want something Harry would know, of course, so he could get into the box; and with Dumbledore acting as Secret Keeper to the box's very existence…'

'Get it open, Harry,' said Ron eagerly. Harry looked up at three expectant faces and took a deep breath.

'Here goes,' he said, and he pushed open the lid of the box.

A loud, squawking sound of rusted metal sliding against metal filled the room, making them all wince. In the next instant, a cloud of dust burst from the box right in Harry's face. He coughed and sneezed, and Ginny quickly aimed her wand at the offending cloud and Harry's face and said _'Scourgify.'_

'Thanks,' said Harry, wiping his eyes, and he turned back to the box, looking inside with a pounding heart. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all crowded round him, peering down into the box.

'Looks like…documents,' said Ron.

'Lots of them,' said Hermione.

'Yeah,' said Harry, staring at the stacks and stacks of parchment inside the box, which, he was stunned to discover, was magically enlarged on the inside to be four times the size of its outward appearance.

He reached inside gingerly and pulled out a small stack of parchment that was tied together with a faded old ribbon.

'There's…so much stuff,' said Harry, bewildered. 'When am I going to find time to go through it all?'

'We'll help you,' said Hermione at once. 'Right now. Let's empty it and we'll sort everything out.' 

She pointed her wand at a random spot in the room and said _'Organize!'_ and suddenly books were stacking themselves on Ron's desk, and his clothes were sorting themselves into the hamper or folding themselves and hanging themselves back up in his closet.

'Thanks, love,' said Ron, grinning.

'Don't get any ideas,' said Hermione sharply. 'I only did it because we need room to spread out Harry's things.'

'Whatever you say,' said Ron, grinning at Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and took the stack of parchment from Harry, and he began to unload everything. In the end, there were more than two dozen thick stacks of documents and about ten thick books.

'Books over here,' said Hermione firmly, and she levitated them over to Ron's already crowded desk. 'We'll look through those later.'

'What about all the rest?' Ron asked, starting to untie one of the stacks of parchment.

Hermione and Harry looked at the paper as Ginny fumbled with the knot of another ribbon.

'That has Ministry letterhead on it,' she said. 'It looks official. Let's do a pile here for Ministry things.'

'This one has Hogwarts letterhead,' Ginny announced. 'I'll put it here.'

'"From the desk of Albus Dumbledore",' Harry read, at the top of a piece of parchment he'd picked up from the box. 'Is this Hogwarts or a separate pile?'

'Hmm,' said Hermione, 'let's make that separate for now. If there's not more than a few from Dumbledore himself we can incorporate it into the Hogwarts' pile.'

'Weird,' said Ron. 'This one's blank.'

Hermione tapped the parchment he was studying with her wand, and suddenly, a message appeared.

'"Meeting tonight, half past seven",' Ron read. '"Usual place, bring R.L."'

'Order business, perhaps?' said Hermione.

'It's signed by Dumbledore,' said Harry.

'Let's put it over here,' said Hermione, sighing. 'It doesn't even look all that important but who knows.' She indicated another spot on Ron's bed.

Ginny added a few more things to the Dumbledore pile, and Harry announced a few letters from Lupin and Sirius; much as he wanted to read them he figured he could do it later.

'Put those in a personal correspondence pile, right there,' Hermione said, pointing to yet another empty spot on Ron's bed.

And on it went for another twenty minutes, sifting through individual pieces of parchment.

'Oh, my,' said Hermione suddenly, looking down at the pile of letters she was sorting through.

'What?' Harry and Ron asked, as Ginny looked up.

'These…I think these are letters your parents sent to one another,' said Hermione. 'I…they look very…private.'

Harry swallowed.

'You mean…like, romantic?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Hermione, and she quickly placed them in a corner on Ron's desk. 'I'll just…leave those there for you, Harry.'

Harry nodded, staring at the pile of letters Hermione had just put down. He hadn't known his parents had written one another love letters. Harry felt a strange ache in his throat, and he realized, perhaps for the first time in his conscious mind, that his parents were only a few years older than he was now when Voldemort had murdered them. 

Harry didn't have time to dwell on the romantic correspondence of his parents before Ron spoke.

'What's this?' he asked, and he held up another piece of parchment. 

It was covered with letters, but none of the letters seemed to spell anything.

'That's not English,' said Ginny. 'Hermione…is that…is that a foreign language?'

Hermione studied the parchment intently. 'Not one that I'm aware of,' she said. 'It's a Latin alphabet but…no, it's not ancient Latin…' She pulled the parchment from Ron's hand.

'Wait,' she said, her eyes widening. 'I think…I think this one might be a coded message.'

'A code?' said Harry, looking up sharply. 

'It's the only thing that makes sense,' said Hermione. 'Are there any more like that in that stack, Ron?'

Ron quickly flipped through the large pile of parchment he had. 'They're all like that. Some of them have lots of numbers on them, though.'

'Harry!' said Hermione excitedly. 'Maybe…maybe this has something to do with your parents' work, for the Ministry, or the Order!'

Harry snatched the parchment from Ron and looked at it. It was completely incomprehensible.

'Maybe,' he said, feeling a little thrill in his heart. 'But…how am I supposed to decipher this?'

'There has to be a solution,' said Hermione, and she took out her wand and tapped the parchment in her hand and muttered an incantation. The parchment glowed pink, but nothing happened.

She tried several more spells, but still came up empty.

'Maybe this stuff has a password, too,' said Ron. 'Maybe only Harry can see it.'

Harry nodded and tapped the stack of parchment in his hand with his wand. He used every word associated with his parents that he could think of, including his mother's maiden name, but nothing on the many pages of parchment changed, nothing became real words.

'Shit,' Harry groaned. 

'Don't swear,' said Hermione. 'Look, give those to me and I'll look into it. My research on blood things is drying up at the moment; maybe there's something useful in here, if I can just crack it.'

'Thanks, Hermione,' said Harry, relieved. He'd never been good at logic, magical or otherwise. Knowing Hermione she'd have every piece of parchment in that considerable stack deciphered inside of a week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, Harry was in his dormitory, with the curtains of his four-poster drawn shut. His parents' letters were stacked up on the duvet; he'd put them in order by the dates. Ginny had bid him goodnight looking weary and sad, and he'd given her a bit of his leftover Dreamless Sleep Draught; he had no idea if it would still be good, but he hoped so. He didn't want to imagine the sort of nightmares Ginny might have if she didn't take it. The lingering guilt he had felt for agreeing to take her back down into the Chamber had since receded, replaced by a tired, familiar sadness at what had happened to her. 

Now he was alone with a stack of letters that were beckoning to be read.

Harry was exhausted; he knew he should go to sleep, but the urge to read the letters was just too strong to ignore. Here, at last, was something personal, something that came directly from his mother and father. Finally he could learn about their lives, in their own words. Even if there was a small part of Harry that felt strange, as though he were invading his parents' privacy, he couldn't stop his eyes from drinking in the words on the first letter.

_12 November 1978___

_Dearest Lily,_

_Is it pathetic that I'm writing you for the second time in one day? Probably. Don't tell Sirius, though. _

_Auror training is still hell, of course--_

Harry's eyes widened and he felt his heart race. His father had been in training as an Auror.

_--and it's worse now that they've accelerated everything. I'm having to do twice as much each day and sometimes I wonder if I'm not mad for having signed on for this. If we're not mad for getting married in three months. I know what you'll think the minute you read this. 'We can't stop living our lives, James.' 'If we live in fear we're giving him what he wants.'_

_You're right, of course. You're always right. I've been practicing saying this, by the way, so I should be in good shape by the time we're married and you'll never have a reason to stay hacked off at me. But...don't tell Sirius that, either. He already takes the mickey out of me for being so completely besotted over you. _

_Bloody hell, Lil, I miss you. I'm not fifteen miles away from you and I can't even see you for another week. I know I must be annoying the hell out of Dumbledore, owling him every day to make sure you're safe. Please tell me you're doing all you can to stay safe. I know you tell me in every letter and I know I probably drive you mad with my worrying, but do it anyway, because knowing you're safe and well is what keeps me going during the long days here. Like a complete prat I'm counting the bloody seconds until I can kiss you again. How's that for romantic? _

_I love you._

_James_

Harry's eyes lingered on the final paragraph of the letter, and he read it a second time, and a third.

_I never knew he was training to be an Auror. And...Dad loved Mum, they were happy in spite of everything...Voldemort was always there... and they were happy anyway...they were so young..._

Harry felt something deep inside him well up and press on his throat, and suddenly he was crying, harder than he ever had, harder than when he'd lost Sirius, when Susan had dumped him. He cried in silence for the parents he'd never known, for two lives, two full, happy lives cut cruelly short, for the unfairness of it all, for the family he could only visit in his dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thin stream of sunlight penetrated the slit in the curtains of Harry's bed, hitting him right in the face.

Harry blinked and groaned, rolling over onto his back. It was only then that he realized he'd fallen asleep in his clothes; his glasses had come off sometime in the night and were on his pillow, the frames looking forlornly bent. One lens had popped out.

'Damn,' he muttered, and he picked up his wand from beneath his pillow and cast a few repairing charms on them before slipping them on. He took a deep breath and pulled back his curtains.

The dormitory was empty; Dean's and Seamus's beds were messy and unmade but Neville's was neatly done up and his desk perfectly tidy and organized. Harry looked at his watch, his eyes taking in the time. Eighteen minutes past eleven...

'Fuck!' he shouted. 

_I have a date with Daphne in an hour and I'm not even close to being ready!_

He leapt off his bed and yanked off his clothes, leaving them piled on the floor; then he grabbed his bathrobe, his towel and his toiletries and raced into the bathroom. He took the hottest, fastest shower in his life, shaved carelessly and nicked his chin--it bled profusely and he had to do a Clotting Charm on it to stop the flow of blood, as well as a Healing Charm--and threw on the first pair of jeans and the first clean t-shirt and jumper he could find. He didn't even bother All told, he was ready in less than ten minutes, but he still had to go down to the kitchens and put together a picnic lunch.

He didn't bother with the Invisibility Cloak; if he got caught going down to the kitchens by Filch he didn't care, he'd hex the old bastard. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter, sir!' Dobby squealed, as he finished filling a massive wooden picnic basket with a lunch that could have easily fed a dozen people. 'Dobby is wondering when Harry would come down to see him.'

'Sorry,' said Harry apologetically. 'I've been really busy.'

'Oh, it's okay, sir!' said Dobby at once. 'Dobby understands. Dobby is pleased that Harry has a courtship today. She is nice, yes?'

'She's nice,' said Harry, blushing. 

'Dobby wonders what her name is,' said Dobby, smiling.

'Daphne,' said Harry, and he immediately sought to change the subject. He wasn't about to get into the subject of his love life with Dobby, so he looked round the kitchen--the other house elves were busy making preparations for lunch in the Great Hall--and he noticed someone was missing.

'Where's Winky?' Harry asked, seizing on the change of subject.

'Oh, she is gone, Harry Potter, sir,' said Dobby. 'She was most unhappy here.'

'Gone?' said Harry. 'What do you mean?'

'She has found employment with another wizarding family,' said Dobby, and he smiled. 'She is working for the Wheezys now!'

'What?' said Harry, taken aback. 'Really? When? Ron never told me--'

'Oh, it only happens this morning, Harry Potter, sir,' said Dobby. 'Dumbledore comes here and asks for Winky and he sees she is not happy, so he says he knows of a nice family for her, and he says the Wheezys, and Winky says she will, as long as they promise not to pay her. Dumbledore says they won't so Winky goes!'

'Wow,' said Harry, smiling to himself. Well, Winky could certainly stay busy, whether she went to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place.

'Thanks for the food, Dobby,' said Harry, picking up the picnic basket, which was very heavy.

'You is most welcome, Harry Potter, sir!' said Dobby, bowing. 'Dobby also sends his regards to Miss Daffy.'

'Miss Daffy?' said Harry, and then something clicked. 'Oh, right. Yeah, I'll tell her you said hello.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I really like this spot,' Daphne said, smiling, as she and Harry sat down on the blanket beneath the beech tree. She looked very pretty today, with her dark blonde hair loose; she wore jeans and a soft, shapely peach jumper that dipped a bit low in the front, affording Harry a nice view.

'My dad used to sit here a lot,' Harry said.

'How do you know?' Daphne asked, and then she blushed and looked embarrassed. 'I'm sorry, that...I mean...'

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'Sirius told me. My godfather.'

'Sirius Black?' said Daphne. 'He was your godfather?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, as he opened the picnic basket. He wasn't keen to talk about Sirius now but Daphne seemed interested.

'It's so unfair, what happened to him,' she said. 'Spending all that time in Azkaban and being a fugitive. And...' Her voice trailed off. 'I don't suppose you want to talk about him.'

'Not really,' said Harry, setting out a platter of roast chicken.

'I'm sorry,' she said, and she looked up at him sheepishly, and it was so charming an expression on her that Harry couldn't help but relax a bit.

'Stop apologizing,' he said, sitting down. 'Look...there are some things I don't talk about much and if you happen upon one of them...I'll tell you, and you don't have to worry about me being offended, okay?'

'Okay,' she said, smiling. 'I suppose it must be difficult for you, everyone treating you so...delicately.'

'It gets old,' said Harry, shrugging. 'But I guess it's no worse than all that hero crap.'

'That part's not crap,' said Daphne firmly.

Harry blushed. 'Daphne--'

'No, just hear me out,' she said. 'Maybe you think a lot of people like you because of that Boy Who Lived stuff but I don't. And a lot of people are really impressed that you're so good at magic, and you are and it is impressive but so are a lot of people. You're not heroic because of that stuff.'

Harry was bright red as he continued to set out the food. 'Why am I, then?' he asked, not daring to meet her eyes.

'Because you don't run away,' she said. 

He looked up at her. She was gazing at him softly, and the look in her eyes was warm and inviting and...sincere.

'Sometimes I want to run away,' he said.

'Everyone wants to run away sometimes,' she said. 

She smiled, and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss her, so he did. 

A few minutes later they came up for air, and Harry was unbearably hot and it had nothing to do with the day being so warm.

'We should eat,' said Daphne huskily. 'Before all the food gets cold.'

'Right,' said Harry, and he sat back from her and took a deep breath.

They ate some of the roast chicken, some green beans and mashed potatoes, they shared a loaf of crusty bread, drank butterbeer, and talked for a long time. He noticed that she ate slowly and took dainty bites and didn't fill her plate to overflowing as he did. As the time passed Harry found himself moving closer and closer to Daphne, and by the time they started nibbling on blueberry tart they were sitting right next to one another, their backs pressed against the tree, their shoulders and thighs touching. Harry tried to ignore the tingling in his body as he smiled at her. 

'I'm stuffed,' Daphne announced. 'I think your friend Dobby gave us too much food.'

'You hardly ate anything,' said Harry.

'Not everyone can shovel food in their faces like you and not get fat,' Daphne pointed out. 'I'm watching my figure.'

'It looks good from where I'm sitting,' Harry blurted, and then she laughed and he realized what he'd said. He began to babble.

'I mean...oh, god, sorry, that wasn't...I don't mean your body looks good...I mean--it does, I just meant I wasn't looking at it...okay, I was but not in a rude way--'

Before he could make a further arse of himself she silenced him with her lips. He was so grateful that she wasn't angry with him for saying something so stupid that for a moment he forgot to kiss her back, but then he felt her press her lips against his harder and part her own, and the fact that she was kissing him clunked in his brain and he kissed her back.

She tasted of blueberry tart, and she kissed incredibly well. Not quite so well as Ginny...

_Don't think about Ginny NOW, you twat!_

He kissed Daphne harder and he heard her moan against his lips and he forgot about Ginny altogether.

After several more minutes of heavy kissing they fell back onto the blankets, and Harry's head began to spin. Already they were going further on this first date than he'd gotten with Susan on their first date...

_Don't think about Susan!_

'Harry,' Daphne murmured, gasping as she broke the kiss; he took the opportunity to turn his attention to her neck, which was pale and slender and beckoned his mouth. She moaned softly again and pulled at him so that he was half on top of her, and he felt all the blood in his body race to his crotch. In some small part of Harry's mind he wondered if this was such a good idea, snogging like this out in broad daylight, but then he felt her mouth on his earlobe, sucking the skin there, and her hands sliding down his back to brush over his backside, and he didn't give a damn who saw what, so long as they kept doing this. 

Harry's hands moved up and down her sides, aching to touch her breasts, but he held back. Breast-fondling didn't seem like a first-date sort of thing to do, and he'd already pushed his luck with his stupid comment from before. But as he slid his hands up her sides again Daphne twisted beneath him and her right breast just sort of landed in his hand.

_Oh, shit..._

'Er...' Harry said, panting, and he started to move his hand away.

She had other ideas; she grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly against her breast.

'I want you to,' she whispered, and she kissed him again, and before Harry really knew it, he was caressing her breasts with his hands, first gently, then harder, kneading her flesh through the cotton of her jumper and it was brilliant, he'd forgotten how beautiful a girl's breasts could feel in his hands. He wanted more, he needed more, his hands found the hem of her jumper and his fingers began to slide beneath...

'Harry, wait...' Daphne gasped.

'Sorry,' said Harry at once, yanking his hands away from her. 'Sorry.'

'It's okay,' she said. 'I...I just think...we need to stop.'

'Right,' he said. 

'First date and all,' said Daphne, sitting up and smoothing her hair.

'Yeah,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair and trying desperately to calm down. The raging in his trousers was fierce and a part of him wanted to run to his room, seal off his bed and just wank to get rid of the agony.

'Harry, are you okay?' Daphne asked.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'That was...really good.'

She gave him a look.

'The date, I mean,' said Harry. 'Well, the snog was good, too, but--'

'You're really cute when you get flustered, you know,' said Daphne, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

'Oh, that's good,' said Harry, 'I'm flustered around girls most of the time.'

She giggled and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

'We should probably head back,' she said.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I reckon we should.' She gave him a beautiful smile and together they began to return the remains of their picnic to the basket.

They stood.

'I had a lovely time,' said Daphne. 'Do you think we could--'

Whatever she was about to say was lost when they both heard a shout coming from some distance behind them.

'What the…' Harry turned round and saw the source of the commotion.

Draco Malfoy was standing about a hundred yards away, and across from him were Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott. Malfoy was shouting something at them--Harry was too far away to discern the words but the expression on Malfoy's face was clear even at this distance. He was angry about something. Angry, and scared.

In the next moment Nott stepped forward and started yelling.

'What's this?' said Harry, watching the proceedings with interest and a bit of wariness. 'I thought that bunch were Malfoy's mates.'

'Not anymore,' said Daphne. 'Ever since Malfoy testified...look, Harry...come on. Let's go, okay?'

'Wait,' said Harry, unable to look away as Crabbe shouted something at Malfoy and poked the smaller boy in the chest. Malfoy shouted something else and shoved at Crabbe, to no effect.

'Harry, come on,' said Daphne, tugging on his arm. 'It's not your business.'

Harry nodded absently and was about to walk away with Daphne when suddenly Crabbe shoved Malfoy, hard, and sent him tumbling to the ground.

'Uh oh,' said Harry, and without really thinking he drew his wand.

'Harry, what are you doing?' said Daphne, alarmed.

'Come on,' said Harry, 'this is going to get ugly if we don't do something.'

'Harry, no!' said Daphne. 'Just stay out of it.'

In the next instant, Goyle picked up Malfoy by the collar and carried the struggling boy over to a nearby tree, and a moment later, Goyle slammed Malfoy viciously against it; he was yelling in Malfoy's face.

'Daphne, come on,' said Harry. 'They're not using wands. We have to do something.'

'Why?' said Daphne.

'What do you mean, why?' said Harry, incredulous. 'Those three lumps are about to pummel Malfoy to pieces. We can't just ignore it.'

'It's not our business, Harry,' said Daphne. 'Besides, what do you care about Malfoy? You don't even like him.'

_She can't be serious. Okay, yeah, Malfoy's a git but still..._

'That's not the point,' said Harry angrily. 

'What is the point, Harry?' said Daphne, now angry as well. 'What goes on with them is their own business, and you'd do well to stay out of it. I'm going back in. If you're smart you'll come with me.'

Harry stared at her as she folded her arms across her chest. He couldn't believe she wasn't going to even consider helping Malfoy. He turned back to see Goyle hurl Malfoy to the ground.

'He's in your damn house, Daphne!' said Harry, turning back to her. 'He's a Slytherin, doesn't that count for something? And, hang on, weren't you just saying something about not running away--'

'You don't get it, Harry!' Daphne shouted. 'Their fathers are Death Eaters, the rest of us can't just go around openly opposing them! I already lost my brother, I'm not going to risk anyone else just to help out Draco Malfoy!'

And with that, she turned on her heel and ran toward the castle. Harry stared after her for a moment, but his shock at her behaviour was interrupted by the distant sound of scuffling. He turned round again and grimaced when he saw Goyle throw a kick at Malfoy, who was lying on his side on the ground.

'Shit,' Harry muttered. He debated for all of three seconds whether he should in fact interfere. It was Malfoy, after all, and the git certainly deserved to get his arse kicked.

_On the other hand, saving Malfoy's bacon means he'll owe you one. And won't that just piss him off no end._

_Good point._

Harry took off at a sprint toward the fracas. By now Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were pretty well pounding on Malfoy, who was lying on the ground and ineffectually holding up his arms to ward off the worst of the blows.

'Hey!' Harry bellowed, his wand hand outstretched, as he came to a halt behind Crabbe and the others. Malfoy groaned and rolled onto his back.

'What the fuck?' said Goyle, stopping mid-kick to look incredulously at Harry.

'What do you want, Potter?' Crabbe grunted.

'Clear off,' said Harry. 'That's enough.'

'Did hell just freeze over?' Nott sneered. 'Harry Potter's trying to rescue Draco!'

He burst into laughter, and Crabbe and Goyle followed suit. 

Harry rolled his eyes.

_They're even more pathetic than they used to be._

'Go...away...Potter,' Malfoy wheezed.

'Shut up!' Goyle snarled, and he kicked Draco in the small of the back, hard.

Harry wasn't sure why he did it, but suddenly he pointed his wand at Goyle and shouted '_Accido__!'_

Goyle had enough time to see the spell shooting toward him and to widen his eyes before he fell backwards in a heap. He gave a yelp of pain and grabbed his ankle, which was twisted.

'Hey!' Crabbe yelled, and he and Nott started to reach for their wands. 

'Don't even think about it,' Harry snarled. 

'This isn't your business, Potter,' said Nott. 

'What do you care, anyway?' said Crabbe.

'Even Malfoy deserves to get his arse kicked in fair fight,' said Harry. 'Three on one, no wands? That's yellow. But it's about what I'd expect from you lot.'

'Who are you calling yellow?' Crabbe growled.

'You, you fat, brainless lump,' said Harry. 'Get the hell out of here, or I'll give you worse than I gave Goyle.'

Nott and Crabbe looked at one another, then back at Goyle, who'd stood up but was trying not to lean on his injured ankle. Then at Malfoy, who was panting and coughing and trying to sit up.

'Fine,' said Nott. 'Crabbe, help Goyle.'

Crabbe grunted again and went to help Goyle walk. Goyle glared at Harry.

'You stupid fuck,' he seethed, wincing. 'You broke my ankle.'

'Be glad it wasn't your neck,' said Harry, still brandishing his wand. 'Now get out of here.'

Crabbe and Goyle started to hobble away, when Nott whirled on Harry. 

'You're in deep shit now, Potter,' he said. 'You'll be sorry.'

'Ooh, I'm really scared,' said Harry sarcastically. 

Nott snorted in disgust at Harry and then looked down at Malfoy, who was clutching his ribs; he was whey-faced and looked to be in serious pain.

'We're not done, Draco,' said Nott. 'Not even close. Next time your boyfriend Potter won't be around to save you.'

'Fuck...you...' Draco gasped, and he collapsed back on his elbows as Nott gave one last scathing at Harry before stalking off behind Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry watched them go for a good few minutes to make sure they were too far away to ambush him, and then turned back to Draco.

The blond boy was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow; he was coughing hard now, and clutching his ribs. His face was a network of bruises and cuts; his lip and nose were bleeding, and his left eye was blackened and swollen shut.

'You okay?' Harry asked.

'Potter...you idiot...look at me...' Draco wheezed. 'Do I look...okay to you?'

Harry rolled his eyes again. 'You're welcome.'

'Fuck you,' said Draco, struggling to sit up. 'You shouldn't have...interfered...'

'Fine,' said Harry, exasperated. 'You know what, next time your former mates are using you as a punching bag, I'll leave them to it. Have fun dragging yourself to the hospital wing.'

He turned and started to leave, when suddenly Draco started to retch; Harry groaned and turned to see Draco coughing up blood.

'Shit,' said Harry. 

_This looks bad if he's coughing up blood._

_Leave him. Ungrateful prick. He doesn't want your help._

'Can't...breathe...' Draco gasped, and indeed, it sounded like he was starting to hyperventilate. 'Hurts...'

_Bloody hell.___

'Come on,' said Harry, reaching down to help Malfoy up; he got a good grip on the blond boy's right arm and started to pull.

'Ow!' Draco hissed. 'Dammit...stop...trying to...move me...stupid fuck...'

'You need the hospital wing,' Harry snapped. 

'No...hospital...' Malfoy groaned.

'Malfoy, you twat, do you have a death wish?' said Harry. 

'Pomfrey'll...ask questions...' Malfoy hissed. 'Can't tell...what happened.'

Harry blinked. 'Wait...are you saying you won't report this?'

'Brilliant...deduction, Potter,' Malfoy rasped, and he coughed up a little more blood.

'Are you out of your bloody mind?' Harry shouted. 'You heard them, they're not done with you. You'll get worse next time. Report them and you could have them expelled.'

'No!' Malfoy yelped, and for a moment the old arrogance vanished from his grey eyes and he looked scared and desperate, just as he had in the courtroom, moments before everyone realized his father had escaped.

'You...can't report them,' Malfoy pleaded. His eyes begged, and yet they held disgust as well, disgust at himself for being reduced to begging his oldest school enemy.

Harry said nothing.

'Please,' Malfoy spat.

Harry was so tempted to keep his silence, to force Malfoy to keep begging him for mercy. It would be just what he deserved, for the six years of misery he'd caused. But something else inside him made him say, 'Fine, Malfoy. I won't report them.' He paused. 'But you need to go to hospital.'

'No--'

'Dammit, Malfoy, don't be stupid,' said Harry harshly. 'I'm no good at healing stuff, and there's no time for me to fetch Hermione.'

Draco scowled and started to climb up; the old hubris crossed his face, the old hatefulness.

'I wouldn't...let that Mudblood...touch me...' he hissed.

_Oh, you unbelievable prick._

A wave of fury hit Harry like a fist and he grabbed Draco by the collar and shook him, not caring if it hurt the other boy.

'Fuck you, arsehole,' said Harry savagely. 'I should let you die right here, alone and pathetic.' 

Draco winced at the pain in his body but then sneered at Harry and smiled. The bastard actually smiled.

'You won't though...' said Malfoy. 'You're too...bloody...noble for that, aren't you, Potter?' 

'Noble? I don't think so,' Harry countered, still gripping Malfoy's collar. 'I'm only taking you to the hospital wing to piss you off.'

Malfoy scowled at him again, and lifted a shaking hand and poked Harry in the chest. He spoke, this time without wheezing.

'You always were a cunt, Potter,' he said, and he swayed on his feet for a moment; his eyes rolled back before he passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry tried to wake Malfoy up, but he remained resolutely unconscious, and Harry had no choice but to levitate the other boy back to the castle. Thankfully the grounds were empty when he did this; he didn't want to have to bother with explanations as to why he was levitating a badly beaten, out-cold Draco Malfoy.

Upon reaching the hospital wing Madam Pomfrey let out a shocked gasp and quickly set Malfoy on a bed; she then ordered Harry to fetch McGonagall, which he did, and he was grateful that McGonagall didn't ask him too many questions when he explained that Malfoy was in the hospital wing.

Harry, for his part, knew it would be up to him now to concoct some sort of story as to why Draco was so beat up. He chose a half-truth; he'd been on a lunch date outdoors, and after it was over he'd decided to take a walk; he'd found Malfoy lying on the grass about fifty yards from the edge of the forest.

'You say you found him like this?' Madam Pomfrey said anxiously, as she dabbed at a cut on Malfoy's cheek. 'He was unconscious?'

A cart stood next to the bed on which Malfoy lay unconscious; its shelves were bursting with potions and salves.

'Yes, ma'am,' said Harry, hoping he sounded convincing. 

McGonagall gave him a hard look. 'You're telling me you had nothing to do with his injuries?' she said. 'Because I know your history with this boy, Potter.'

'I swear I didn't hurt him,' said Harry quickly, grateful that he didn't have to lie about this part. 

'You say you were having lunch with a classmate?' said McGonagall. 'Which one?'

Harry blushed. 'Er, Daphne Greengrass.'

'Miss Greengrass?' said McGonagall, surprised. 'Really? Well…and she didn't see anything?'

'No,' Harry lied, trying not to betray his irritation at Daphne's weird behaviour. 'We...parted ways right after we finished lunch.'

McGonagall eyed him suspiciously for a moment; Harry knew she suspected him of 'fraternizing' with Daphne--she had a nose like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out that kind of activity--but she did seem to buy his explanation of Daphne not seeing anything regarding Malfoy.

'Who could have done this to him, do you think?' McGonagall asked.

'I don't know,' Harry said slowly. 

'You say he wasn't all that far from the edge of the forest?'

Harry swallowed and looked right in her eyes. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'As long as he's unconscious, then, we can't learn anything about his attackers--'

At that moment Draco began to gurgle and cough again. Madam Pomfrey quickly turned him on his side and blood trickled out of his mouth.

'Oh, my goodness,' McGonagall breathed.

'His ribs are broken,' said Madam Pomfrey. 'And it looks like he has a punctured lung. He needs St. Mungo's right now.'

'I'll take him myself,' said McGonagall. 'Potter, get back to your common room right now, and say nothing of this. Poppy, send word to Amelia Bones that I'll be using an Emergency Portkey and contact a healer you trust at St. Mungo's--we need to keep this as quiet as possible. It looks as if Mr. Malfoy's life is still in grave danger.'

'Of course, Minerva,' said Pomfrey, and she stood up and headed quickly to her fireplace.

'Go on, Potter,' said McGonagall, nodding at him.

Harry nodded and backed out of the room; he caught McGonagall picking up a random potion bottle from Madam Pomfrey and tapping it with her wand. The bottle glowed blue.

'Go on, Potter!' Madam Pomfrey barked, and Harry hurried out of the hospital wing, guilt and anger gnawing at his insides. What had started out as a lovely day had ended badly, very badly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until after dinner that Harry told Ron and Hermione what had happened with Malfoy; he hadn't meant to, but the events of earlier that day were picking at him so relentlessly that he found he had to get it off his chest.

'I can't believe you rescued that prat,' said Ron, shaking his head, as they sat in the empty common room in front of the fire. They had their books out but had abandoned even the pretext of studying.

'What else could he do, leave him there?' said Hermione irritably. 'Malfoy would have died, Ron.'

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' Ron muttered.

Harry watched the two of them and felt it at once: a frisson of barely contained irritation. Something was definitely going on with the two of them, and Harry had a fairly good idea what.

'You don't mean that, Ron,' said Hermione, through clenched teeth.

'Don't tell me what I mean,' Ron snapped.

'You're the one who's always saying I have a "saving people" thing,' Harry pointed out, trying to head off what was threatening to be a fairly spectacular row.

'In this case I'm glad you did,' said Hermione fervently.

'You're glad?' Ron said incredulously. 'What, you suddenly like Malfoy or something?'

'Don't be ridiculous, Ron, of course not,' said Hermione angrily. 'But he's still a human being.'

Ron snorted. 'Whatever,' he said grumpily.

Hermione glowered at him for a moment before turning to Harry.

'How was your date, Harry?' she asked.

Harry blinked and felt his neck get hot again. 'Fine,' he said shortly.

'Daphne seems like a nice girl,' said Hermione.

'I guess so,' said Harry, not really wanting to talk about his date, how it had been going just swimmingly until they'd both witnessed the fight between Malfoy and his former mates.

'Will you be seeing her again, do you think?' Hermione asked.

'Maybe,' Harry mumbled, although at the moment, he didn't think so. He realized he wasn't angry with her for running away, for being afraid, so much as…disappointed. After all, everyone was afraid. He was afraid, and he'd lost people, too, and hadn't she said he was heroic for not running away? So why had she?

Hermione smiled warmly at Harry, and her eyes twinkled.

'Did you kiss?' she asked.

'Jesus fucking Christ, Hermione!' Ron exploded. 'Are you blind? He doesn't want to talk about his date, okay?'

Hermione gaped at him, and her face became a mask of hurt.

'I was simply asking--'

'Well, don't!' said Ron. 'Would it be too much to ask for you to back off, for once?'

'Ron,' said Harry, appalled at his best mate's behaviour. Hermione's eyes filled with angry tears.

'Fine,' she said, her voice shaking. 'Fine. I'm going.' She stood up and gathered her books.

She was struggling not to break down, and Harry felt a rush of sympathy for her, and an equally strong rush of anger at Ron. He could be a real prat when he wanted to be.

Hermione stood up, straightened her shoulders and marched purposefully toward the portrait hole. Just before she climbed inside, she turned and stared at Ron, her face a mixture of hurt and fury.

'I know you've had a rough few days, Ron,' she said, her voice shaking even harder as a tear slid down her cheek. 'And I know…I know I don't fully understand what you're dealing with, but you have no right to take your frustrations out on me.'

And with that, she turned and climbed through the portrait hole. Harry watched her go and then turned back to Ron, who was looking down at his shoes.

'That was totally out of line, Ron,' Harry snapped. 'What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you be like that to her?'

'You don't understand--' Ron began hotly.

'Bullshit,' Harry retorted. 'You haven't been that rude to her since fourth year. If this is about what Firenze said--'

'That's exactly what it's about, Harry!' Ron shouted. 'Fuck! I've spent the last two days meditating my bloody arse off and the only things I see are horrible.'

'So because you're stressed out you decide to be mean to your girlfriend?' Harry countered.

'Oh, listen to you, lecturing me on being nice to my friends under pressure!' Ron bellowed. 'How many fucking times have you treated us like shit when all we were doing was--'

'And I was wrong!' Harry yelled. 'Totally and completely fucking wrong and I thank Merlin every day that the two of you didn't abandon me for being such a twat to you both.'

'I saw her die!' Ron said suddenly, and his voice was no longer angry but stricken. 'I saw...oh, fuck, Harry...' 

And he sank onto the sofa and buried his head in his hands. His shoulders shook.

_Oh, Jesus._

Harry swallowed his anger and sat down next to Ron; he hadn't seen his best mate this upset since that night in the Riddle House.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked gently, and he awkwardly laid a hand on Ron's arm.

Ron looked up; his eyes were dry, but red-rimmed.

'This morning I was _meditating_,' he said, practically spitting out the last word. 'And...I saw...last term at the Riddle House, when Dolohov cut her and...and put the poison in her. And...and we got away because...because of Snape and I went looking for her and I...I fought Dolohov and I killed him but...but when I went to get Hermione out of that room...Lucius Malfoy had her...he had her and before I could get to her he...he...he killed her. And he was laughing and...and calling her a Mudblood and...'

Ron's eyes welled up and he looked away, ashamed.

'Jesus,' Harry whispered.

Ron wiped angrily at his face.

'Ron,' Harry said, 'that's in the past and you did save her, remember? You got her out and she made it.'

'I know,' Ron said. 'That's not the point, Harry. I'm supposed to be seeing the future but I keep seeing things that have already happened, only...they always end badly. I saw you die, too...'

'Oh, well,' said Harry. 'Last time I checked I'm still alive.'

Ron laughed, but it was a harsh, choked sort of laugh, halfway between that and a sob.

'I can't even touch her,' he said bitterly. 'She tried to...to comfort me earlier by hugging me but...dammit. When she touches me I want to do...other stuff and I'm not supposed to because it's a _distraction. _But how am I supposed to deal with this stuff if I can't...get any relief? I can't even take my broom out for a fly.'

Harry gave him a look. 'Er, Ron...' he said, striving to be delicate. 'If you can't...you know, with her...can't you just...take care of things on your own?'

'No,' said Ron furiously. 'Can't even do that. I went and asked Firenze yesterday, can you believe it? It was the most humiliating thing I've ever done. Well, except for Quidditch in fifth year. One day, Harry, one single day of knowing I can't have sex with my girlfriend and it feels like a year. How pathetic is that?'

'Not pathetic,' said Harry. 'That's half the benefit of having a girlfriend. Knowing that you can sex pretty much whenever you want.'

'Yeah, well, I can't,' said Ron. 

'It's only two weeks, Ron,' said Harry. 'I haven't had sex in months, remember?'

Ron looked at Harry sheepishly. 'Right. Sorry.'

'Then again, I can take care of things myself,' Harry mused.

Ron screwed up his face in distaste, but then he laughed, and Harry laughed.

Ron's face dissolved into misery almost at once.

'I made her cry,' he said sadly. 'I'm a bastard. I swore to myself when we got together that I wouldn't ever make her cry again and...I've gone and done it.'

'Why don't you go to her right now and apologize, then?' said Harry. 'She'll forgive you.'

'I've really fucked up,' said Ron.

'So fix it,' said Harry.

'I knew it was going to be bad,' said Ron. 'I just...it's worse than I thought. Only two days into this and I feel like absolute shit, I'm taking it out on my friends...'

'Ron,' Harry interrupted. 'Go and talk to her. Apologize, grovel, kiss her feet. She'll understand. She loves you.'

Ron looked at him for a long moment.

'She loves you,' Harry said again.

'Yeah, she does,' said Ron, and he smiled sadly. 'I always knew she was mental.' 

He got up and ran a hand through his hair and started for the portrait hole. Just before he went inside he turned back to Harry.

'Thanks, mate,' he said, and he left.

Harry watched him go and felt a heavy weight in his chest ease slightly. He suddenly realized how important it was to him for Ron and Hermione to be together. They needed each other, they belonged together, but more than that…

_I need them. Together. Because they're stronger that way, they can be stronger for me…_

_You're a selfish one, Potter._

_Yeah, I know._

But it was more than that. He wanted his best friends to be happy, and they were happiest together. He knew that. 

Harry stared into the fire, losing himself in his thoughts, when he heard the portrait hole creak. He turned to see Professor McGonagall enter the common room, followed by a short, dark haired witch he didn't know.

'Hello, Potter,' said McGonagall crisply. 'Have you seen Miss Weasley?'

'Ginny?' Harry said, looking at the petite witch who stood just to the left of and behind McGonagall. The witch was probably somewhere between forty and fifty, judging by the strands of grey that ran through her otherwise dark, softly curling hair, but her heart-shaped face and dark, sparkling eyes were surprisingly young.

And surprisingly familiar.

'Mr. Potter?' said McGonagall.

'Oh, right,' said Harry. 'Ginny. I saw her after dinner, she said she was going to her room to study.'

'Very good, then,' said McGonagall, and she made to walk to the girls' staircases.

'You're Harry Potter,' said the familiar, unfamiliar witch.

'Yeah,' said Harry uncomfortably, automatically lifting a hand to flatten his black fringe.

'Nymphadora's told me all about you,' said the witch, and she strode gracefully over to Harry and held out her hand. 'I'm her mother, Andromeda Tonks.'

Harry's eyes widened. 'You're…Tonks's mother?' 

'Oh, dear, I see she's still refusing to let people address her by her given name,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Harry.' 

Harry took her hand and shook it.

'You, too,' said Harry, and suddenly he felt a rush of pleasant warmth, of cordial emotion flood his brain. It radiated from their joined hands.

_She's an Empath. Holy shit…_

'You're here to train Ginny, aren't you?' he blurted.

'Now, Potter,' McGonagall warned.

'It's all right, Minerva,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Yes, I am, Harry. Normally I wouldn't show up here on a Sunday evening but it was the first opportunity I could get away. Is Ginny a friend of yours?'

'Yeah, she is,' said Harry. 'A good friend.'

Mrs. Tonks smiled at him and let go of his hand. 'I'll be sure to take good care of her, then.'

'Thanks,' said Harry.

'Shall we, Andromeda?' said McGonagall, beckoning to the girls' stairs.

'I'll see you around, Harry,' said Mrs. Tonks, and she smiled one last time before heading toward the stairs.

Harry watched the two women go, and sat back down on the sofa. The last time he'd experienced such a roller-coaster of a day had been on that fateful afternoon when Death Eaters and Dementors invaded the Quidditch pitch. He lay back on the sofa, exhausted, grateful at least that someone was here to help Ginny deal with her problems. He was asleep in less than a minute.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three: Coping

_Chapter Twenty-Three: Coping_

Ron stood outside Hermione's door for a full five minutes, staring at it dumbly as he berated himself over and over again for his behaviour. All he could think of was how he'd made her cry. That single thought had carried him throughout almost the whole of the castle as he'd searched for her. The library, the Astronomy Tower, the dungeons...the entire time he saw her in his mind, her brown eyes filling with tears, because of what he'd said.

He felt like the worst man in the world.

At last he raised his fist and knocked gently on her door.

_Please let her be here. I've looked everywhere else._

'Hermione?' he called softly, his voice breaking slightly.

There was no response from behind her door. He knocked harder.

'Hermione?' he called again, this time a little louder. He gingerly pressed his ear to her door, bracing himself for some kind of magical shock, but none came. He listened and heard it: she was crying.

His heart clenched with guilt.

'Hermione?' he tried again.

'Go away,' said her muffled voice.

'Hermione, please,' he begged. 'Please open the door.'

'No,' she said, and her voice was harsher, and closer; she'd gotten up and crossed to the door.

'Please?' he said.

'I'm not opening the door,' Hermione said coldly, and he could feel her words stab at him like an icepick, even through the thick barrier between them. 

'Okay,' Ron said, conceding defeat. At the very least, he'd found her; she couldn't leave her room without talking to him. If he had to converse with her, to apologize to her and beg her forgiveness through a four inch thick door, he'd do it. 'Will you...will you listen to what I have to say, then?' he added.

'You've said enough,' said Hermione angrily, but her voice was teary. 'How could you be like that?'

'I'm sorry!' Ron cried. 'I didn't mean it--'

'I know this is difficult for you, Ron, but you can't just treat me that way and expect me to--'

'I know,' Ron said heavily. 'I'm sorry. 'Mione, please...I'm an arsehole, okay? I am, I shouldn't have taken this out on you--'

'I only want to help you get through this,' said Hermione, her muffled voice now sad again. 'Don't you think it hurts me to see you go through this?'

_Shit. I hadn't thought of it that way._

_Of course you hadn't. Selfish pillock._

'I'm sorry,' Ron said lamely. 

'Go away, Ron,' said Hermione, sounding tired. 'Just leave me alone.'

''Mione, please hear me out!' Ron begged. 'Please. I...I'm sorry...it's just...the things I'm seeing...they're all terrible and I don't have any way of dealing with them, I don't know...I see these visions of you...of you dying and it's like my fucking heart gets ripped out...I can't stand it...I shouldn't have yelled at you, I'm a prick for yelling at you...I love you...and I hate myself for hurting you and if I ever do it again you can hit me or hex me...just...please don't hate me, please...I love you...if you want me to say I'm sorry a thousand times I'll do it...I'll do anything...please...please forgive me...'

His voice broke and he fought a lump in his throat. He couldn't stand feeling this way, on top of everything else. He couldn't stand the thought of Hermione being angry with him, of hating him. He needed her, he didn't think he could stand being without her...

He listened at her door for what seemed like an eternity, but he heard no sounds anymore. Maybe she'd locked herself in her bathroom. But she wasn't listening to him anymore, and she wasn't coming out to talk to him.

Ron blinked back the tears that were threatening, and took a deep breath. He was exhausted. The visions he'd had today had been the worst yet, and there was no outlet for his anger, his fear, his desperation. He couldn't seek comfort in Hermione's arms, he couldn't disappear into the sky on his broom. All day he'd alternated between wanting to break things and lock himself in a broom cupboard and cry his eyes out. Hermione had tried to be so supportive, so understanding, but he couldn't bear to be close to her, knowing that he couldn't get the kind of comfort from her that he needed. And now he'd managed to take his fury out on her, the person he loved more than anything. He felt utterly wretched.

He turned slowly and started back toward his room. The only thing he could do now was sleep. He thought about that bit of Dreamless Sleep Draught he still had; it was probably no good anymore but he'd take it anyway, to hell with his dreams, he needed to be free of the visions in his head for a while.

He entered his room and began to pull off his clothes; when he was down to his jeans and a t-shirt he heard a faint knock at his door.

His heart leapt in his chest even as he told himself not to get his hopes up.

'Who is it?' he asked, his voice scratchy.

'It's me,' came a soft, familiar female voice.

He didn't feel his feet as he crossed the room and opened the door.

He almost pinched himself just to make sure he was there, that it was really her at the door. Her hair was a huge mess and her eyes were puffy and her nose was red, and she was beautiful.

'Hi,' she said hoarsely.

'Hi,' he said, feeling like his heart was about to break open.

'Ron...'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm so sorry--'

She silenced him by crossing the threshold and walking into his arms; she wrapped her arms round his waist and buried her face in his chest.

He let out a sigh and put his arms around her, burrowing his face into her abundant hair.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

Ron pulled back. 'What?' he said. 'Don't you apologize, I'm the one who--'

She looked up at put a finger to his lips. 'Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?'

'I didn't...want to bother you,' he said lamely.

She punched him in the arm, very hard. 

'Ow!' he said. 'What--'

'Dammit, Ron!' she said. 'I told you a thousand times not to be such a boy about things like this!'

'Hermione, you cursed,' said Ron, rubbing his sore arm. 

'That's not important,' said Hermione. 'What's important is...is that you tell me about these things instead of bottling them up.'

'I know,' Ron mumbled, feeling very stupid all of a sudden.

'If you tell me this stuff I might be able to help you,' she said.

He looked at her wryly. 'Yeah, well, the way you can help me is sort of off-limits at the moment.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Ron, it's only two weeks.'

'I know,' he said defensively.

'And this summer we went without for over three weeks, so--'

'I know, Hermione,' he said.

'Then what's the problem?' she said. 'Can't you...on your own--'

'No,' said Ron.

'Really?' said Hermione, and now she looked disturbed. 'You're not even allowed to do that?'

'No,' said Ron again. 

'Oh.'

She looked at him for a moment, and then away, as if pondering something, and then she spoke again, briskly. 'Well, surely you can manage to be...anti-sexual for two weeks.'

'That's not it,' said Ron, a slight whinge creeping into his voice that he hated but couldn't seem to help.

'Then what?' said Hermione. 'Honestly, is sex the only thing men think about? 

'It's not the only thing I think about,' said Ron.

'Right,' said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips. 'You think about Quidditch, too.'

'No,' said Ron. 'I mean, yeah, I think about sex and Quidditch but I also think about...about you. You know...' His ears went red and he struggled not to say anything corny but it came out corny anyway. 'I think about...cuddling and...and stuff like that...you know...all that...mushy stuff...' 

He looked down at his shoes.

Hermione giggled softly. 'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, the defensive sound creeping back into his voice. 

'You're a romantic, Ron,' said Hermione, smiling.

Ron scoffed and waved a hand.

'No, you are,' she said. 'That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you.'

Now he was certain he was red all over. 'Yeah?' he managed.

'Yes,' she said. 

He looked at her for a long moment and finally took her hand. 'I don't deserve you,' he said.

'Don't say that,' she said.

'It's true,' he said, shrugging. 

'It's not,' she insisted.

'Do you...do you forgive me?'

'I forgive you,' she said. 'Don't do it again.'

'I won't,' he said, taking her other hand. They looked at each other and he saw in her face a trace of the little girl he'd first met on the train. Not her bossiness or her overwhelming intelligence but her vulnerability. She was brilliant and brave but underneath she was tender, just as he was, and he hated himself for having abused that tenderness, and thanked Merlin and everyone else that she loved him enough to forgive him for being a prat. She smiled at him softly and he couldn't stop himself, he bent down and kissed her lips.

She kissed him back, and then their mouths were pressing together, opening, tongues meeting, and he pulled her to him and drank her in and forgot that he shouldn't be doing this...

_Stop! You can't do this!_

''Mione,' Ron gasped, as he pulled away. 'I can't...I'm sorry...'

'It's okay, it's my fault, too...' Hermione said. 'Dammit. This is really hard, isn't it?'

'In more ways than one,' said Ron, feeling a distinct pinching down below.

'Ron,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

'You cursed again,' said Ron, trying to smile through his discomfort.

_Yup, another cold shower will definitely be needed tonight._

'Well, I'm frustrated,' she said.

'See what I mean?' said Ron vehemently. 'It's like...if there wasn't this _ban_ on having sex I could probably go without it for two weeks just fine but...just knowing I _can't._..that we can't...' His voice trailed off into a groan as he sat on the bed. He looked up at her and continued. ''Mione, it's not...it's not just sex, okay? I mean...maybe...maybe girls are different or something but...but when we're together like that...it's amazing and I feel like...like everything's perfect in the world, like I can't be any happier.'

Hermione gave him a knowing look.

'Not just physically,' said Ron insistently, his voice growing husky as he looked deeply into her eyes. 'It's not just physical. It's...it feels like when I meditate...when I'm inside you I feel open to everything only...everything's good instead of horrible...I'm not making any sense, am I?'

She smiled at him warmly and touched his cheek. 'You're making perfect sense,' she said. 'What you said is really beautiful, actually.'

Ron shrugged. 'It's how I feel.' He looked at her for another long moment and felt the ache build in his chest, knowing that he couldn't be with her tonight as he wanted to be.

'I should go, shouldn't I?' she said.

'Probably,' he said. 'I...I'm sorry...I wish I could just...but...'

'No, it's okay,' she said. 'I don't want to make things any more difficult for you.'

She stood up and crossed to the door, and then turned and leaned up to kiss him quickly on the cheek.

'Promise me something,' she said.

'I promise never to be a rude berk to you again--' he said.

'Something else,' she said. 'If you're upset about...about the meditating, about what you see, you'll tell me? Don't let it fester.'

'I'll tell you,' he said.

'And let me help you,' she said. 

'I told you, the only way--'

'That's not the only way, Ron,' she said, rolling her eyes again at him. 'You're just not using your brain.'

'Your brain's big enough for both of us,' said Ron, grinning.

'Yes, well, a good thing, then,' said Hermione. 'I'm going to the library; I think I have an idea on how to help you deal with this that won't require you to break Firenze's rules. You should get some rest.'

'Yes, Mum,' said Ron, although he knew she was right. He was so tired.

'Ha ha,' she said dryly, and then she kissed him again, quickly, on the lips. 'Good night.'

'I love you,' he said.

'I know,' she said, smiling. 'I love you, too, you prat.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron awoke the next day with renewed purpose. He'd slept well and had pleasant dreams, which he recorded in his diary. He knew he'd have to meditate, there was no avoiding it, and this gave him pause for a moment, but he took a deep breath and climbed out of bed. He sat cross-legged on the cold floor and closed his eyes.

After a minute, the visions came. 

_There was a little girl crying, holding a dead kitten in her arms. Another image came, of war--Muggle warfare, it looked like. Men dressed in gray combat uniforms and carrying strange, black metal weapons that made tremendous banging noises and spread smoke and made people bleed. There was a couple standing in a kitchen, bellowing at one another. And then a vision came that wasn't horrible. Well, it started out horrible, but then it became so beautiful that Ron didn't want to let go of it, he held onto that vision, clung to it like a lifeline._

_There was a woman, lying in a hospital bed; she was screaming in agony and her forehead was covered in sweat. Ron couldn't make out her face, or what she was saying. He heard a man's voice, talking to her in soothing tones. Ron saw a large, blurry hand brush across the woman's forehead, saw the man lean forward and kiss the woman on the cheek, saw that he had some strange sort of wrap on his head, saw bright lights and people surrounding the woman's bed, and then he heard it: the loud, pealing cry of a baby. He heard the joyful sobs of the man and the woman, heard a disembodied voice say 'It's a girl' and saw gloved hands pass a bundle, a tiny bundle, into the woman's arms; she was looking down at the bundle and the man was kissing her forehead. The woman looked up and her face was sweaty and streaked with tears, and her brown hair stuck to her forehead and her big brown eyes were leaking, and then Ron saw the man with the funny wrapping on his head, saw his blue eyes that were crying also, saw the freckles on the man's face...Ron saw the baby, sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms, a shock of red hair peeking from beneath the blanket...the vision was perfect and wonderful and...and it was fading...Ron didn't want it to fade, it was beautiful..._

Ron's eyes snapped open as he collapsed onto his side. He was panting and his forehead had a thin layer of sweat upon it. He mopped his brow and sat up, taking a deep breath, unable to believe what he'd just seen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron dressed quickly. The vision of the two people and their baby wouldn't leave his mind. He wanted to tell Hermione, he'd promised he'd tell her everything, but...

_How can I tell her I saw us? With...with a baby? How old were we? I couldn't tell. Were we married? I think I saw a wedding ring somewhere, didn't I?_

He'd written it all down in his journal, of course, every detail of it he could remember. It was one of the few truly good visions he'd seen since he'd started having visions, and yet...

_Me and Hermione...and a baby?_

He'd thought about it, of course, but only in the abstract. It wasn't a question of him knowing he'd marry Hermione someday, it was more a question of him being unable to imagine being with anyone else in the future. He simply couldn't fathom being with another girl, another woman, other than Hermione. But it had never become a concrete concept in his mind, he hadn't really thought of a future with Hermione--marriage and children. And why should he? They were still so young, so very young, and Voldemort was still out there. Everything was uncertain.

And yet...he'd had a vision that could only be of the future. Did that mean, then, that he and Hermione would get married someday, and have a baby?

If he were honest with himself, the idea was a little frightening to contemplate. And a little wonderful.

Ron went down to breakfast with the vision still humming in his brain. He was starving and he downed a full plate of bacon and eggs before Harry and Ginny joined him.

'You're up early,' said Harry.

'Felt like getting up,' said Ron, helping himself to another plate of bacon and eggs.

'Did you and Hermione...' Harry said slowly.

'Yeah,' said Ron, and he smiled. 'How are you feeling today, Gin?'

She smiled. 'Fine,' she said, and for once her tone wasn't tight. She lowered her voice a bit. 'Actually, a lot better. That Empath came last night; we're going to start training twice a week.'

'Really?' said Ron eagerly, leaning in. 'Who is she? Or he?'

'She,' said Ginny. 'Get this. It's Tonks's mum.'

'No shit,' said Ron. 'Really? Wow. An Empath and a Metamorphmagus in one family. Maybe her Dad's a vampire or something.'

'You've got an Empath and a Seer in one family,' Harry said in a low voice.

'True,' said Ron.

'How are you feeling, Ron?' said Ginny. 'With...with the visions and things?'

'Better,' said Ron. 'Well, at least for now. I dunno. Hermione said she's going to try and help me deal with it but I don't see how she can.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

'Not that way, you prats,' Ron said. 'I can't do that, remember?'

Harry and Ginny stifled laughter and turned their attention to eating when Hermione appeared. She sat down next to Ron and smiled tiredly at him.

Her eyes were bloodshot and there were blue bruises beneath; she looked knackered. She also looked beautiful, and for a sudden, brief moment Ron imagined her holding a red-haired baby in her arms.

It wasn't an unpleasant image, and that scared him a little. He blinked. He couldn't tell her about that vision. Not yet.

'What?' said Hermione, eyeing him. Ron quickly changed the subject, which wasn't hard, considering how tired she looked.

'Are you okay, love?' he said. 'You look worn out.'

'I'm very tired,' she said. 'I was up most of the night working.'

'On what?' said Harry. 'Hermione...you can't wear yourself out on those code things.'

'It wasn't just that,' said Hermione. 'I came up with a way to help Ron deal with his visions.'

Ron took her hand. 'I appreciate it, 'Mione, but you shouldn't be--'

'Hush,' said Hermione. 'I've got it all worked out. Well, mostly. I just need a few more ingredients.'

'Ingredients?' said Ron. 'You're brewing a potion?'

'Mmm,' said Hermione, nodding. 'Well, two potions, I suppose. The only trouble is the ingredients...aren't readily accessible.'

'I don't like the sound of this,' said Ron. 

'It's just a matter of getting a few things from Snape's storerooms,' she whispered.

'Wait, wait,' said Ron, and he lowered his voice. 'Hermione, are you mad? You can't go stealing potions ingredients.'

'Of course I can,' she said loftily. 'It's for a good cause. And I've done it before.'

'You're Head Girl now,' Ron said incredulously. 'Things are different.'

'I'm also good friends with Harry Potter,' said Hermione in a low voice. 'If I get caught I'll just say I was looking for some things to help him.'

'I am a good excuse,' Harry conceded.

'You shouldn't be breaking rules for me,' Ron said.

'It's a little late for that,' said Hermione, giving him a knowing look, and he blushed and grinned.

'Right,' he said, and he noticed Harry and Ginny exchange glances once more, and roll their eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their next Defense Against the Dark Arts Lesson proved to be even more unsettling than the ones they'd had last week.

_And that's saying something,_ Ron thought.

The first thing Ron noticed was Draco Malfoy's absence. The second thing he noticed was the hateful, searing way in which Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott glared at Harry. The third thing he noticed was that Daphne kept glancing at Harry, but every time he would look at her, she looked away. And she was sitting with Blaise Zabini. 

Clearly, Harry's date with Daphne hadn't gone as well as Harry had let on. Ron made a mental note to ask Harry about it later, but then Professor Hopkirk called their attention to their assignments.

The first part was a reading assignment: Chapter Three in their _Most Lethal Charms_ book. Ron was surprised to see that it was a chapter devoted entirely to magical methods of killing vampires. When he glanced up at Professor Hopkirk she licked her lips and smiled, revealing even white teeth with pointy incisors--they looked like normal teeth and yet...

Ron shuddered and looked down at his text, but it wasn't much better than looking at Hopkirk, because the chapter also included gruesome moving illustrations. Apparently, the only way to really kill a vampire involved stabbing it through the heart with a sharp wooden stake and then cutting off its head, in that order. The safest way to do this involved conjuring up a wooden stake and hurling it at the vampire's chest and then using a Severing Charm aimed at the throat. This meant that one did not have to get too close to the vampire and risk being bitten, but killing a vampire at a distance required precision aim and timing. Ron shuddered and glanced up at Professor Hopkirk again, who was pacing back and forth behind her desk; her feet didn't seem to move beneath her long black robes.

_If she is a vampire, why the bloody hell is she having us read a chapter on how to kill them? She really is sick..._

But if Ron thought the reading portion of the lesson was disturbing, it didn't compare to the practical part of it, in which they ordered to perform Asphyxiation Curses on one another. Hermione protested vehemently, but Professor Hopkirk cut her off sharply and took five points from Gryffindor for her 'cheek' and another five when Hermione tried once more to make her point.

'Let it go,' Ron hissed.

'Practicing Asphyxiation Curses on students is illegal!' Hermione hissed under her breath.

'I can hear you, Miss Granger,' Professor Hopkirk called. 'By all means, keep talking if you wish to lose more points.'

Nott--who seemed to have taken over Draco's position as Number One Prat of Slytherin house--chuckled along with his cronies; Blaise Zabini and Daphne looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Pansy Parkinson seemed to be hiding in a corner. Perhaps she was wondering about Draco, but it was clear she looked a bit lost without him there.

Hopkirk cleared the room of desks and they paired up to practice. She insisted on only one rule--that nobody was allowed to use the curse on their partner for more than thirty seconds, or until that person passed out, whichever came first (she cast a Cushioning Charm on the floor just in case). 

'Remember the wand motion,' she said smoothly. 'And the incantation: Examino.'

In the end, Neville and Pansy both fainted after being hit by the curses. Harry--who'd partnered with him--was horror-struck and quickly shouted the countercurse, but Neville seemed to be fine. Millicent Bulstrode was paired with Pansy and Ron got the distinct impression that Millicent's failure to work the countercurse after Pansy had fainted had nothing to do with the larger girl not knowing how to do it. Professor Hopkirk wound up reviving Pansy, and gave Millicent a stern warning and deducted five points from Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle and Nott alternated and seemed to take great delight in using the curse. Ron and Hermione both cast the charm successfully, but it was horrible, on both counts: being robbed of oxygen sent Ron into a panic, but just as bad was watching Hermione try to breathe and not being able to do it. Neither of them managed to keep the spell going for the full thirty seconds, but Professor Hopkirk didn't notice.

The lesson ended, with a two foot essay on vampires and how to kill them and a reading assignment on Blood Boiling Hexes.

'At this rate half the class'll be dead by the end of term,' Seamus muttered, as they left the classroom. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent pushed past Harry roughly; Ron started to protest but Hermione grabbed his arm and shook her head.

'Leave it,' she said. 

'You should have reported them, Harry,' Ron muttered. 'Even if they did give Malfoy what he deserved, at least they'd be expelled.'

'It's not my place,' said Harry uneasily, though it looked to Ron like he wasn't comfortable keeping Draco's secret.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were just stepping out into the corridor when someone spoke.

'Potter? Could I have a word?'

It was a girl's voice, and Ron and the others turned to see Pansy Parkinson standing there, fidgeting and looking tired. Daphne and Blaise were about ten feet back from her, watching.

Harry eyed her for a moment. He then looked at Daphne and Blaise, and then back at Pansy, and nodded. 

'In private?' Pansy asked.

Harry shook his head. 'Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Ron and Hermione.'

Pansy let out a breath. 'Fine,' she said. 'I just wanted...I heard. About you bringing Draco to the hospital wing.'

'Yeah, so?' said Harry.

'How is he?' she asked, and she bit her lip, and for the first time she didn't look mean and nasty, she looked scared. 'I went to visit him this morning and he wasn't there. Pomfrey wouldn't say anything. Do you know where he is?'

'Didn't Snape tell you?' Harry asked, looking uncomfortable. Pansy shook her head. Ron watched Daphne and Blaise whispering and staring at Pansy.

'I can't tell you where he is, Pansy,' said Harry.

'Why the hell not?' she snapped.

'Because I was told not to say anything,' said Harry, and at this Pansy's eyes filled with tears.

'Dammit,' she muttered. She looked up at Harry with a mixture of sadness and annoyance.

'Can you at least tell me if he's okay?' she asked.

'He was really messed up,' said Harry. 'Broken ribs, punctured lung--'

'Jesus,' Pansy whispered. She took a deep breath and looked at Harry, then at Ron and Hermione, with a hard gleam in her eyes. 

'Fine,' she said. 'Thanks, Potter.' And she stalked away. At that moment Blaise and Daphne walked up.

'You can't say anything about Malfoy?' Blaise asked.

'I just said that, didn't I?' said Harry, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. 'Anyway, I don't see why you're so concerned.' He cast a cool glance at Daphne, who flushed to the roots of her hair.

Harry turned to Ron. 'Let's go,' he muttered, and he started off down the corridor, leaving Ron and Hermione watching after him dumbly for a moment, trying to figure out just what was going on.

'Harry, wait!' Daphne said suddenly, and she hurried after Harry.

Blaise watched her go for a moment, and then followed.

'What was that all about?' Ron asked.

'I don't know,' said Hermione. 'Let's just ask Harry later, okay?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Transfiguration that day involved more Glamour Spells, this time involving hair colour. Ron meant to turn Harry's hair as red as his own but instead turned it green, and Harry turned Ron's blue. They were given extra homework.

And then there was History of Magic, which hadn't even taken place last week because nobody could locate where Professor Binns had gone. Ron and Harry had been hopeful that perhaps, finally, Binns had gotten tired of teaching, or perhaps Peeves had found a way to deal with him, but unfortunately McGonagall announced the Professor Binns had simply been visiting a dead relative over the summer holiday and had lost track of the time. And apparently he'd also forgotten to tell anyone that he was going on holiday in the first place. So the late afternoon was taken up with History of Magic. Ron managed to discern that the lesson was about the Demon Devastation of 1874 before he decided to take a nap, which was frequently interrupted with Hermione elbowing him angrily and hissing at him to take his own notes. He finally gave her his best sad puppy look and she relented and let him sleep. Well, he was exhausted. Meditating took a lot out of him.

Later that night, Harry told him and Hermione about what had happened with Daphne. She'd apologized, apparently, and had asked to see him again, but Harry had said he was too busy.

'So you're not going to see her again?' said Ron, a bit surprised.

Harry let out a sigh. 'I like her, but...I don't know if I can get past what she did,' he said. 

'She's just scared,' Ron offered. 'Look what happened to her brother.'

'Everyone's scared, Ron,' said Hermione forcefully. 'That doesn't mean people should go into hiding.'

Ron bit back a retort; his emotions were still very much at the surface, but he wasn't about to get into another row with Hermione, not when they'd so recently patched things up. 

'Maybe you're right,' he said instead, and she smiled.

'Thank you,' she said, and then she left to go to the library, pecking him softly on the cheek.

'Good one, mate, I could tell that hurt,' said Harry, after she'd gone.

'Better that than a row,' said Ron.

As the week progressed Ron settled into his very busy routine. Keeping busy helped immensely, he found, because it left him little time to brood over everything he was dealing with. In the mornings he would wake up and write in his dream diary. He found himself having the same dream, the one of Godric Gryffindor wearing his, Ron's, clothes and pointing out the silver sword that lay on the ground. Every time, Ron would pick it up and experience the worst, gripping sort of pain up his arm that seemed to squeeze his very heart; he'd turn and see Harry coming toward him and then he'd wake up. For the life of him Ron couldn't figure out what the dream was supposed to mean. And then he had the dream of Harry's mother, or what looked like Harry's mother, standing in front of the bassinet. Except that the woman's eyes kept changing from green to brown. 

After writing down his dreams, Ron would meditate. The visions were still mostly terrible, but he hadn't had any that related to him or his friends, and he hadn't seen the one of him, Hermione and the red-haired baby. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about this.

Probably both.

Harry told them he'd only managed to find time to read two or three of his parents' letters; they were, he said, quite short on practical information, but didn't elaborate further. Ron could only assume this meant the letters were long on declarations of love and other mushy things. Hermione, meanwhile, announced that she was frustratingly stumped on the various pieces of coded parchment. 

Then there was Voldemort. Or rather, the noted lack of Voldemort. There was nothing new to be found in _The Daily Prophet_ regarding Death Eater attacks; no news of Lucius Malfoy; there was only rumour and speculation. Harry's scar was tingling all the time now, as it had in fifth year, but he wasn't having any visions.

Ron was so caught up in his many activities that he forgot about Hermione's vow to brew him some potions that might help him cope with the many awful visions he was seeing every day. It was only when she pulled Harry and Ron aside before Potions that he remembered she planned to steal some ingredients.

It was time, then, for another diversion. It was easy enough to achieve. They were working on Anti-Swelling Potions; Snape was sitting at his desk, grading essays and only occasionally casting his beady dark eyes about the room.

Ron purposely took a seat near Crabbe and set up his cauldron. Harry was just behind Crabbe. Everyone was concentrating quite hard on their assignments today--one couldn't successfully complete any N.E.W.T. potion without doing so. Ron only hoped he didn't screw his up too badly.

He paused long enough in the midst of brewing his potion to write something on a piece of parchment. He glanced surreptitiously up at Snape as he folded the parchment into a small square before dropping it near Crabbe's foot.

Crabbe noticed the piece of parchment and bent down slowly to pick it up, and Harry acted; he dumped a flask full of dragon blood into Crabbe's potion. The potion bubbled heavily for a moment but didn't otherwise react. Harry quickly sat back down and went back to work. He glanced at Ron, who glanced at Hermione; she nodded at both of them. Crabbe opened the piece of parchment and gave a light snort; Ron looked up and grinned at him cheekily. Crabbe began to crack his knuckles threateningly, and Ron rolled his eyes and went back to his work; he did make sure, however, to keep a very close eye on his own cauldron.

As the double period wound down, Ron finished his potion--he was sure he'd gotten it right--and took a flask of it up to Snape. Harry followed suit, but as he climbed off his stool, he tripped quite dramatically and collided into Crabbe, who fell forward, crashing into his cauldron and sending it toppling right onto Goyle, who was splashed everywhere with Anti-Swelling Potion. 

'Potter!' Snape bellowed, and he jumped up from his desk and started toward Goyle. Hermione leapt up and ran for the store rooms.

Goyle spluttered and suddenly began to yell as his clothes began to shrink. Along with his head, which, by the time Snape reached his side, was smaller than a Bludger. 

Ron wasn't watching that, though--his eyes were on the door to Snape's storerooms.

_Come on, come on, Hermione!_

The next moment she appeared and nodded to him.

'Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter,' Snape hissed. 'Clean this mess up and be glad you don't have detention.'

Snape turned just as Hermione sat on her stool; she reached down to pick up her bag, looking cool and collected, and surreptitiously dumped whatever stuff she'd stolen from Snape's storerooms into the bag.

Crabbe, meanwhile, was given the task of taking Goyle to the hospital wing; by the time Goyle left, his clothes had shrunk so much that they had torn; he moaned in agony as his trousers squeezed him in delicate areas (the boys in the classroom let out a collective wince). Goyle's skull had shrunk to the size of a Snitch.

'Can we never do that again, Hermione?' Harry asked quietly, as they left the dungeons. 'It's too bloody nerve-wracking.'

'I agree,' said Ron. 'Although messing with Crabbe and Goyle is always a laugh.'

'What'd your note say?' Harry asked. 'The one you dropped by his foot?'

'"Vincent Crabbe is a big, dumb twat",' Ron said at once.

'Ron!' Hermione said indignantly. 'Honestly.'

'Nice work, Harry,' said Seamus, who came up from behind him and patted him on the back. 'Goyle's head now matches the size of his brain.'

Dean chuckled. 'Bet his balls--' Hermione gave him a scathing look--'er, his privates are really sore right about now. Good one, Harry.'

'And you didn't even get detention,' said Neville, looking a bit awe-struck. 'You only lost ten points.'

'Snape's going soft,' said Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'How was your week, Mr. Weasley?' Firenze asked. He was pacing back and forth across the 'forest' floor of the Divination classroom; Ron was seated cross-legged on the ground in front of a magical fire.

'Wonderful,' said Ron dryly.

'You have avoided...extracurricular activities?' 

'Yeah,' said Ron glumly. 'Have I ever.'

'I trust your meditations have been revealing,' said Firenze, his palomino tail swishing. 'Might I have a look at your diary?'

Ron gulped. 'Some of the...some of the stuff in there is really private, you know,' he said. 'Dumbledore promised I wouldn't have to--'

'If I am to properly train you, Mr. Weasley, it is vital that I see your every dream in detail,' said Firenze.

Ron's face was hot. 'Please, sir...do you really need to see...you know...my dreamsaboutmygirlfriend...' He trailed off, his voice going to a mumble.

'Ah,' said Firenze. 'I wasn't aware you recorded...those particular dreams.'

'Dumbledore told me to write down everything,' Ron muttered.

'In that case, perhaps you could tear do a simple Concealing Charm on the material you wish to keep private,' Firenze suggested.

Ron flushed even further.

_Why didn't I think of that? _

'Right,' he said, and he pulled the dream diary from his bag. He took out his wand and flipped through the pages, pausing to perform Concealing Charms on every page that was taken up with a sexual dream. He then handed it to the centaur; Firenze opened it and his eyes scanned the words so fast it looked as if he wasn't really reading anything.

'Interesting,' he said at last. 'You've experienced a few recurring dreams, I see. That is significant.'

'How so?' Ron asked.

'A recurring dream typically means there is a recurring issue or problem in someone's life,' said Firenze. 'For example, a person who regularly procrastinates in his studies might have a recurring dream of sitting an exam that he forgot to study for. Or perhaps one might dream of an argument one had with a friend that resulted in the end of that friendship. A recurring dream often signifies a subconscious desire on the part of him that dreamed it to correct the problem. Once a person corrects the problem, the dream may stop. A recurring dream could also be a remembrance of a traumatic event in one's life. I see here that your early entries indicate a recurring dream of a man called--'

'Dolohov,' said Ron dully.

'But the dream has not appeared in some time, I note,' Firenze went on. 'That is a positive sign.'

'Finally some good news,' Ron muttered under his breath. If Firenze heard him, he gave no indication, but instead went on speaking.

'In the case of your recent dreams, however,' he said, 'something else may be at work. With Seers, recurring dreams are often a signal.'

'A signal?' Ron repeated. 'Of what? The future?'

'Perhaps,' said Firenze. 'Or perhaps your mind is trying to give a you a clue, to help you solve a riddle that you might encounter down the road. The recurring theme of the sword seems to be an attempt by your subconscious mind to solve a puzzle. The recurring theme of the woman with the red hair might also be a clue.'

'Maybe,' said Ron doubtfully. 'The dreams seem so...random.'

'Have you ever considered that the two might be connected in some way?' Firenze suggested.

'No,' Ron admitted. 'Wait, yeah, I mean, I have. Because Harry's in both of them. But...that's it...'

'Your female friend,' Firenze interrupted. 'Hermione Granger, is it?'

Ron blushed. 'Yeah.'

'Yes, I know her name, she caused...quite a stir among my former herd a while back,' he said.

'She didn't mean to insult anyone,' said Ron quickly.

'Of course she didn't,' said Firenze. 'Human beings often cause the worst hurts when acting with the best of intentions. But,' he added, when Ron started to protest, 'in fairness to her, my people are perhaps...too proud for their own good.'

_Well, there's a first, a centaur admitting he's wrong about something._

'Why do you ask about Hermione?' Ron asked.

'I notice...she appears in a recent vision,' said Firenze.

Ron flushed again. 'Yeah, right.' Oops, forgot to conceal that one.

'It is...rather a positive vision, wouldn't you say?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, looking down at his hands. Neither one said anything for a moment, and then he looked up. 

'Sir, what does it mean?' he asked. 'Is that...my future?'

'Yes,' said Firenze. 'And no. It is one of many possible futures.'

'So, the future isn't set, then,' said Ron. 

'Yes and no,' said Firenze again. 'The stars, the planets, fate...things are written that cannot be undone. But those are only the outcomes; there is nothing set about the many possible journeys, the many stops along the way. And the outcomes, those are bigger than you or I, they affect us all. The outcomes are the result of a thousand, a million choices and actions that, when taken together, fall into place.'

Ron stared at him. 'I don't understand.'

'You will come to understand,' said Firenze. 'Here is your book.'

Ron nodded and took the book; he looked at it for a moment and then looked up at Firenze.

'Sir,' he said, 'does that mean...I'll end up with Hermione?'

'Is that what you want?' Firenze asked.

Ron swallowed. 'I don't know. I mean...' 

He faltered; he wasn't sure he wanted to discuss something so personal with Firenze, not when he hadn't even talked about it with Harry. And yet Ron was aching to make some sense of something that he'd seen. So many of his dreams and visions seemed almost pointless. If he could just have an answer to one of them...

'I haven't thought about...that,' he said finally. 'Marriage and...and kids and stuff. I'm only seventeen. And...Voldemort is out there...the future just seems so far away. I can't imagine being married to anyone. But I can't imagine not being with Hermione, either.'

Firenze smiled. 'You have your answer, then,' he said. 

Ron looked up at him, and he realized he was only more confused. The look on his face must have registered with Firenze, who smiled again.

'You will figure it out,' he said. 'Now come, it is time for you to meditate.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and Hermione were not at dinner; Ron had arrived just in time to see Harry leave with Ginny and Colin and Dennis Creevey; Harry told Ron that Hermione was in the library again just as he headed out. None of the other older Gryffindors were in the Great Hall when Ron sat down to help himself to some food, so he wound up eating with Lizzie Towler, who talked his ear off about subjects that he forgot the moment he finished his dinner; then again, she didn't seem to want or need him to say much of anything, which suited him just fine.

Ron went to his room shortly after dinner. He was tired and irritable from his session with Firenze; the visions that had filled his mind had hit him hard and fast, like Bludgers. Ron realized that it was the fire that made it worse, that damned scented fire. Firenze had told him to burn the herbs, and he'd forgotten, and a part of him wondered if he hadn't subconsciously decided not to for the very reason that the scented fire made the visions that much more numerous, more horrible, more vivid. Ron had not travelled in the world all that much; he'd only been to Egypt and roundabout in England, but his visions were showing him a vast, strange world full of miserable, lonely, and in many cases, violent or evil people.

It was still early, but he was tired, and he decided he might as well turn in; he didn't have the energy to study, anyway. He pulled off his robes and uniform and put on pyjama pants and a t-shirt; he washed his face and brushed his teeth and collapsed onto his bed, making sure that his dream diary was on his nightstand, when there was a knock at the door.

'Yeah?' he called.

'It's me,' came Hermione's voice.

He got up and opened the door, and she entered his room without preamble. Not that he would have stopped her.

'Hi,' she said, looking up at him. She was, as usual, holding a stack of books and her school bag. Her eyes were bloodshot and bright from exhaustion. Her skin was pale, her hair was messy, and Ron suddenly noticed that her face seemed thinner.

'You skipped dinner,' he said.

'I wasn't hungry,' said Hermione. 'I was in the library working on Harry's stuff; I think I'm close to figuring it out. Oh! And I added some new things to my list, although I'm not sure about what they mean yet, but maybe once I've cracked those codes--'

'Hermione, you have to eat,' said Ron. 'And sleep. You can't go wearing yourself out, for me or for Harry.'

'Are you lecturing me?' said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips.

'Yes,' said Ron at once. 'I'm serious, 'Mione. I appreciate your help, and so does Harry, but you have to take care of yourself.'

She smiled at him tiredly. 'You're right,' she admitted. 'I just...I get on a roll and I forget about everything else.' She set her books down on his bed, and then began to dig through her school bag.

Ron watched as she extracted two flasks and a small bowl. She crossed to his desk and set the flasks and the bowl down onto the surface, and then pulled her wand from her robe pocket and tapped the bowl. It grew several inches larger.

'What's all this?' Ron asked.

'This,' she said, lifting one flask, that contained a dull, muddy green potion, 'is a Libido Suppressing Potion.'

Ron let out a choked laugh. 'You're joking.'

'No, I'm not,' said Hermione. 'Two teaspoonfuls of this, every six hours, for the next week should make things a lot easier for you.'

Ron eyed the potion sceptically. 'Er, that stuff doesn't have any...lasting effects does it? I mean, once I stop taking it it'll wear off, right?'

_That's all I need, to take that stuff and never be able to get it up again._

'Of course,' said Hermione, smiling slyly. 'Just don't go over the recommended dosage.'

'I wouldn't,' said Ron. 'It looks foul. Do I want to know what's in it?'

'No,' said Hermione. 'And you might have to hold your nose when you take it.'

'Maybe I should just deal with the sexual frustration,' said Ron.

'As you like,' she said breezily, setting the flask down.

'What's that other stuff?' Ron asked, indicating the bowl and the second flask. 'Do I have to drink that potion, too?'

Hermione picked up the second flask; the liquid inside was pearly and silver and shimmered.

'No,' she said, and she uncorked the flask and poured the liquid slowly into the bowl.

'Hermione, what--'

'This is your Pensieve,' she said, unable to hide the note of triumph in her voice.

'My...my what?'

'Your Pensieve,' she said. 'You know what it is--'

'Yeah, I do,' he said. 'Where'd you get it?'

'I made it,' she said. 'Well, not the bowl--I sort of...stole a bowl from Grimmauld Place, not that anyone would miss it. I started on the potion over the summer. You have to let the ginkgo leaves dry for twenty days--'

'Wait, wait,' said Ron. 'You've been working on this since the holiday?'

'Yes,' she said.

'But...when?' said Ron, incredulous. 'I didn't see you working on it--'

'I worked on it alone, whenever you and Harry were playing chess,' she said. 'I wrote to Dumbledore over the summer and asked him how to do it. He told me that technically only fully qualified wizards are allowed to have Pensieves but he did give his to Ginny and he agreed that it might be helpful for you to have one--'

'You wrote to Dumbledore?' said Ron, confounded. 'When?'

'That day you had the vision of Lucius Malfoy's trial,' she said. 'Remember? I wrote him about Harry's stuff? Well, I included a mention of you. He sent me a separate note saying he'd send some ingredients along, but that he had to send them to your mum because they were restricted only to wizards and witches who are of age. A few days later your mum gave me an envelope with some of the ingredients in it. Dumbledore told her he'd sent it because I had an extra credit assignment, but I don't know if she believed that or not. Anyway, I couldn't complete the potion until I got here and could get access to Snape's storerooms, though. Oh, and...I sort of nicked a few things from the greenhouses, too, but don't say anything.'

Ron gaped at her.

'You...you went to all that trouble for me?' he asked.

'It wasn't too much trouble,' she said, blushing. 'I thought the Pensieve could help you. You know how it works, right? You can put all your excess thoughts in it and retrieve them whenever you want--'

'I know how it works,' said Ron. 'I...I can't believe you did this.'

'I told you, it wasn't too much trouble,' she said. 'Only, you have to make sure no one knows about it. Dumbledore told me the spell for extracting thoughts, I wrote it down for you, it's quite simple, actually. And try not to spill the bowl, because I probably won't be able to make any more of the potion. You can just put an Anti-Spill Charm on it when you're done using it each day--'

'You're incredible,' he said, taking her hands. 

She blushed even deeper and looked down. 'Ron...'

'No, I mean it,' he said fervently, tipping her chin up so that her eyes met his. 'You're the best, Hermione, the most amazing, most brilliant--'

'Ron, you're embarrassing me,' she said, looking away again, but she was smiling.

'Thank you,' he said, more touched by her gift, by the effort that went into it all, than he could possibly imagine. 'This is...thank you.'

She looked up at him with soft brown eyes. 'You're welcome.'

He pulled her into a hug and she sighed as she leaned her head against his chest. His fingers moved into her hair, smoothing the tangled curls, and they held each other for a while in silence. Ron hadn't felt this relaxed in what fell like forever.

At last Hermione looked up at him and smiled.

'I'm really exhausted,' she said.

'Me, too,' said Ron, still holding onto her. 

'You should get some sleep,' she said.

'You, too,' said Ron. 'And no more skipping meals.'

She laughed softly. 'All right. I won't.'

'How am I supposed to repay you for...for all this?' he asked.

She smiled mischievously. 'Just get me something good for my birthday.'

'Your birthday?' Ron said, pretending to be confused. 'Is that soon?'

She swatted him on the arm. 'Very funny,' she said.

And then he remembered something. 'If I'm not mistaken, your birthday is on the same day that I get to stop being celibate.'

'Ah,' she said. 'Well, I think I know what I want, then.'

_Oh, shit. _

He looked at her and he couldn't help it, he had to kiss her. So he did, softly at first, then pressing his lips to hers harder, parting her mouth with his own, pressing his tongue inside...

_Hello! Weasley! You're not supposed to be kissing, remember?_

_I can't help it, she's so amazing, she tastes so good..._

_And there goes Mr. Shaft. Down, boy!_

He broke off; they were both panting. 

_I'm in hell. That's all there is to it._

'Merlin,' he breathed.

'Do you want the potion?' Hermione asked.

'Yeah,' said Ron fervently. 'I'll take it.'

______________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: I borrowed the '_Examino'_ spell from Shezzly's story _Beyond What Came Before_. **


	24. Chapter Twenty Four: Hermione's Birthday

_Chapter Twenty-Four: Hermione's Birthday_

The week passed faster than Ron had realized, not that he was complaining. The faster the week went, the sooner he could come out of his self-imposed celibacy and Quidditch exile.

Ron started using the Pensieve almost at once. It took him a few tries to get the Memory Extraction Spell down, and the attempts resulted in him pulling out several clumps of his hair, but he quickly caught on (and restored the missing hair to his scalp, covering up a small bald spot he'd created). 

It was a strange sensation, extracting memories. It didn't hurt, exactly, but Ron felt each memory he pulled actually exiting his brain, dragging out of his skull like a heavy, wet string on the floor. And yet the memories floated lightly into the silvery fluid in the Pensieve, causing the liquid to ripple.

Discomfort aside, Ron felt instant relief as a result of the Pensieve, and said a silent thanks to Hermione every time he used it. He was careful with it, always remembering to cast the Anti-Spilling Charm on it, and he treated it with a kind of reverence he typically only reserved for his broom and his chess set. Ron's meditations were becoming easier to deal with, thanks in part the Pensieve, but he also sensed something else happening to him as the end of his second week drew near: he felt stronger, somehow, more solid. The visions were always troubling, but he was less and less exhausted at the end of each meditation session, which was a huge help. Unfortunately, none of the visions--or dreams, which he was still faithfully recording in his journal, right alongside the visions--were of any significance to him, Harry, Hermione or the wizarding world Ron knew. There had been no more images of Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy or Helene Rosier or anyone else.

Ron had also not told Hermione, or anyone else, of his vision about the red-haired baby. Several times he'd been tempted to tell her, but he found that he couldn't, and a part of him didn't even want to. He wasn't sure how she'd react, for one thing, and in any case, he couldn't help but like having that vision all to himself, considering how public so many of his other visions had to be.

Ron also took the anti-libido potion. Any concerns he had about overdoing the dosage were done away with: not only did the potion taste thoroughly disgusting--thereby discouraging him from wanting to take it at all--but Hermione had charmed the bottle of potion to measure out only perfect doses into his spoon. The potion helped quite a bit with the worst of his sexual frustration (not being able to wank in order to relieve himself of it) but he was a little unnerved by the fact that he could spend so much time around Hermione doing Head Boy and Girl duties and in study and he wasn't feeling the usual urges to snog her senseless or yank off her clothes. By Wednesday, when Hermione kissed him good-night quickly on the lips and he felt none of the usual stirrings whatsoever, he decided he'd go off the potion the next day. He'd rather deal with a day of frustration and anticipation than keep taking it.

Thursday morning came and Ron woke up as usual. He'd dreamt of several things--the sword, failing a Potions exam, kissing Hermione, playing Quidditch with no clothes on (he didn't bother trying to figure out what that one meant). He wrote everything down before he got out of bed to meditate.

He took up his usual position on the floor: cross-legged, with his hands resting on his knees, palms up. He closed his eyes, and a vision came at once...

_'You really thought you could hide, didn't you?' said a voice. It was a male voice, rough and brittle and heavily accented, foreign-sounding._

_'Please...it wasn't my fault...I told them nothing...' said a second voice. Another man, and he, too, had a foreign accent, but it was different. Harder, more clipped. This man was crying. He was lying on the ground, in the dirt, and he was looking up. His eyes were swollen and leaking tears, and blood. He was hugging his knees into his chest. Though his face was a mask of cuts and bruises, though his voice was hoarse and wheezing from the pain, the man looked familiar, somehow. His clothes were torn and he was filthy. He was in a room of some kind, a dark room with thin slits of sickly light leaking in._

_'You lie,' said the first man, who wore black robes and whose face was covered with a hood. 'You've already been seen talking to the Weasley brat.'_

_'Only to mislead him!' the injured man begged. 'I lied to him, everything I told him was a lie--'_

'CRUCIO!' _screamed the first man, and the man on the ground was enveloped in the Curse, writhing and screaming and clawing at the ground..._

Ron gasped and gritted his teeth; the vision was so real, so close...he could almost feel the curse on his own body, he knew what it felt like, that pain. His mind, however, seized on the mention of his own surname. When had this man spoken to a Weasley? 

_The man kept screaming as the Curse ripped through him._

_'_Assez,'_ said a third voice. A female voice, also familiar; she was talking to the hooded man in an unfamiliar language. _'Vous ne voulez pas le tuer, Rodolphus. Pas encore.'[1]

_The woman stepped forward; she, too, wore black robes and a black hood, and her face was in shadow._

_'Igor,' she said, her voice low and silky and smoothly British, 'we know you're lying. The Dark Lord knows. It was a test, you see, and you failed.'_

_'No...' Igor moaned. 'I swear...'_

_'He told you about an attack on __Sofia__ to test you,' the woman went on, almost cooing. 'And you went and told Weasley all about it, and they sent their Aurors there just today to prevent it. Fortunately, the Dark Lord lied to you. We'll be attacking __Varna__ instead. __Sofia__ might be the capital but...there are satisfactory targets in __Varna__, I think.  It's just a shame we weren't able to take Weasley with you. Maybe next time.'_

_'Please...' Igor begged._

_'_Helene,_' said the hooded man called Rodolphus. '_Que notre seigneur veut-il fait avec lui? Indépendamment de l'évident.'[2]

'Igor sera un message de notre seigneur, Rodolphus,_' said the woman. _'Vous êtes donné le congé pour le rendre aussi douloureux et évident un message que vous souhaitez.'[3]

_'What are you saying?' Igor cried. 'Tell me!'_

_The woman looked down at Igor, and removed her hood. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe chignon, and her beautiful face was curled in a chilling smile._

_'_Au revoir,_ Igor,' she whispered. The hooded man called Rodolphus raised his wand. There was a flash of light, a ripping sound, a scream..._

When Ron opened his eyes, he was lying on his side and his whole body was trembling and covered with sweat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron was still in his pyjamas and dressing gown when he tore out of his room; he didn't stop by Hermione's room to tell her what he'd seen. He didn't go to the common room to tell Harry. He didn't listen to the Aurors or to Professor Flitwick, who yelled at him to stop running. He leapt over a candelabra that Peeves had knocked over. There was only one thing on Ron's mind.

_Get to Dumbledore's office..._

He rounded the corner and came to the entrance of the former Headmaster's office.

'Blood...flavoured...lollipop,' he gasped.

The door creaked open with a screech, and Ron jumped onto the stairs, letting them carry him upward.

Five seconds later he burst through Dumbledore's door, not even bothering to knock.

'Sir!' Ron yelled, hurtling toward Dumbledore's desk; he barely registered the Professor McGonagall was standing across from it and that the two of them looked to be in the midst of a conversation.

'Mr. Weasley, what is the meaning of this?' said McGonagall angrily. 'How dare you just barge in here like--'

'I had a vision,' Ron blurted, not caring if McGonagall knew. 'I saw something!'

'Slow down, Mr. Weasley,' said Dumbledore, and he stood up from his chair. Ron noticed that this took longer than usual, and it was then that he saw the sickly, ashen cast to the old man's skin, the dullness of his eyes. Was Dumbledore sick?

'What did you see?' he asked, bringing Ron back to himself.'

'Right,' said Ron, still trying to catch his breath. 'I was meditating, just now...and...I saw...I saw Death Eaters. They were talking to someone...no, they were torturing him...they were speaking some foreign language...and they mentioned the name Weasley...I don't know if it's happened or if it's in the future--'

'What on earth?' said McGonagall.

'Ron, take a deep breath,' said Dumbledore. Ron obeyed. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he wondered that the room didn't shake with it.

'Now,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Start from the beginning. What did you see?'

Ron nodded and took another breath. 'There was a man,' he said. 'He was lying on the ground, and he was injured really badly. There was...there was blood all over his face and leaking out of his eyes. He was...he was crying.' 

Ron took another deep breath, working past the lump in his throat. Talking about what he'd just seen, the suffering, the cruelty...

'It's all right, Mr. Weasley,' said Dumbledore. 'Go on.'

'There were Death Eaters,' said Ron. 'Two of them. A man and a woman. They were talking to the man, and to each other--'

'What did they say to the man?'

'They said they knew he was lying,' said Ron. 'They said...they said they saw him talking to Weasley.'

At this Dumbledore's posture went rigid, and McGonagall bit back a gasp.

'Did you learn the man's name?' Dumbledore asked. 'The man being tortured?'

'They called him Igor,' said Ron. 'Why?'

'Albus,' McGonagall breathed.

'I know, Minerva,' said Dumbledore. 

Ron stared at them. 'Hello, what's going on?' he asked. 'Why is a bloke named Igor talking to one of my family members?'

Dumbledore gave him a long look. 'Finish your story, Mr. Weasley, and then we will talk.'

Ron swallowed. A part of him wanted to rebel. He didn't want to wait and finish his story. He wanted to know now why there was a guy named Igor who was being tortured had been talking to a Weasley. Which Weasley? His father? One of his brothers?

'Mr. Weasley, time may be running out,' said Dumbledore. 'Please. You mentioned two Death Eaters.'

'Right,' said Ron, and then he remembered something. 'The woman...she was Helene Rosier. I saw her, she took off her hood. And she said something. Something about...an attack.'

'Where?' said Dumbledore urgently.

'Sofia,' said Ron. 'No, that's not it...shit, I can't think...'

'Bulgaria,' McGonagall whispered.

Ron ignored her, wracking his brain for the name of the other city. 'Vendor...Veela...no, that's not it, it started with a V! Why can't I think of it?' he cried.

'Veliko Tarnovo?' Dumbledore said. 'Varna?'

'Varna!' Ron said. 'That's it! She said Voldemort told Igor that he was going to attack Sofia but that was a trick, a test, to see if Igor would tell anyone. But they weren't planning to attack Sofia at all, they said they were going for Varna.'

'Were?' said McGonagall. 'This can't have already--'

'No,' said Dumbledore. 'We would have heard it. I believe Mr. Weasley is seeing future events.'

'Really?' said Ron hopefully, but then he frowned. 'But they were speaking in the past tense.'

'That does not mean anything, per se,' said Dumbledore. 'Did you see where Igor was?'

Ron groaned. 'A room, I dunno where it was.'

'Did Rosier mention when they were going to attack Varna?' Dumbledore asked.

'No,' said Ron.

'You said the two Death Eaters were speaking a different language?' McGonagall asked.

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Don't ask me what it was. She kept calling the other Death Eater...Rudolph. No, Rodolphus.'

McGongall and Dumbledore exchanged hurried glances.

'You're certain the woman was Miss Rosier?' said Dumbledore.

'Yeah,' said Ron.

'The man she was speaking to was Rodolphus Lestrange,' said Dumbledore. 'You're unable to remember anything they said to one another?'

Ron wracked his brain, and came up with one word. 'Miss Rosier said something to Igor, it was...are voo-wor, or something...'

Dumbledore smiled. 'French, they were spreaking French,' he said. 'French is the first language of the Lestrange family, and there is extensive French ancestry within the Rosier family as well.'

French made about as much sense as anything else to Ron.

'I don't know what else they said but...whatever it was sounded bad, because they finished talking and Rodolphus pointed his wand at Igor and...and there was a curse, I dunno what it was but he screamed...it was really bad...'

Ron broke off and bit his lip. He was breathing hard, he was shaking.

'Take another deep breath, Ron,' said Dumbledore. 'Minerva, send Severus to Amelia right now with the details of Mr. Weasley's vision, but keep Mr. Weasley's involvement out of it. Make sure she sends the details to Charlie and make sure he takes Karkaroff to the safe house.'

'Charlie?' Ron repeated. 'My brother Charlie?'

'Anything else, Albus?' McGonagall asked, ignoring Ron.

'That's all,' said Dumbledore, and his voice suddenly sounded very, very tired. 'We will discuss...the other matters another time.'

'Very well,' said McGonagall, and she smiled at Dumbledore, but her eyes were sad. 'Do take care, Albus. Weasley.'

She started out of the room; just as she reached the door, she turned.

'Oh yes,' she said. 'I'm afraid I'll have to take five points, Mr. Weasley, for swearing in front of myself and Professor Dumbledore.'

'But, Professor--' Ron started to protest.

'And award ten points,' she went on, 'for bringing this matter to our attention.'

Ron stared after her as she swept from the room, in a swirl of dark blue robes.

'Do you really think it'll help?' he asked, after a long moment. 'What I told you?'

'It might,' said Dumbledore. 'It remains to be seen how much foresight you have. But you were right to come to me right away.'

'You think you'll be able to stop the attack and...and save Igor?' Ron asked.

'That is my hope,' said Dumbledore.

'What does Charlie have to do with this?' Ron asked.

Dumbledore gazed up at Ron. 'I should not tell you. Not only for your brother's sake but for your own.'

'I can keep a secret,' said Ron defensively. He could. He'd kept them before. 

'I have no doubt you can keep a secret from your friends if you feel the need,' said Dumbledore gently. 'It is keeping secrets from enemies that is difficult.'

'But--'

'I will tell you, Mr. Weasley, but only because you here at Hogwarts, and the wards and protections that have been added and continue to be added every day are so powerful that you are safer here than anywhere else,' said Dumbledore wearily. 'I do not expect this school, or you, to fall into the wrong hands.'

Ron nodded. Dumbledore took a deep, rattling breath, and Ron noticed how dry the Headmaster's lips were, how thin and frail he looked. In just two weeks, he'd deteriorated.

'Igor is Igor Karkaroff,' said Dumbledore. 'You may remember him as the former Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute. He vanished when Voldemort returned two years ago, and was recently found, after extensive searching, by the Bulgarian Ministry and forced to become an informant. We discussed him at our last meeting, if you recall.'

'I do,' said Ron. 'But you said he went missing.'

'He did,' said Dumbledore. 'And Charlie came into the picture. He knows people all over Eastern Europe, he speaks several languages. He was able to locate Karkaroff in short order. In just three days, in fact, from the last time we spoke.'

'What happened?'

'I cannot go into the specifics,' said Dumbledore. 'Suffice it to say that Charlie convinced Igor to resume acting as an informant, in exchange for certain protections. Their next meeting is to occur, if I'm not mistaken, in two days' time. Perhaps it is then that Igor is to tell Charlie of the false news about an attack in Sofia. Without specific timelines it's difficult to know.'

'So you might not be able to...to save Igor?' Ron said, swallowing.

'We might not,' said Dumbledore. 'But we should at least be able to prevent the attack in Varna from going forward.'

'And...and Charlie's okay,' said Ron slowly. 'He'll be okay.'

Dumbledore paused, and then he came slowly round his desk.

'Your brother is engaged in very dangerous work, Ron,' he said. 'Very dangerous work. But we are protecting him as best we can. I do not want you to dwell on Charlie, do you understand? And say nothing of his involvement, or of Igor Karkaroff, to Harry or Hermione or anyone else. The fewer people who know of this, the better.'

'But sir,' Ron protested, 'they wouldn't say anything.'

'I know they wouldn't,' said Dumbledore. 'That is not the point. The control of the flow of information is more vital now than ever. I am asking you to keep Igor Karkaroff's name to yourself. At least for now.' He lifted his hand up and Ron saw that the hand was thin and gnarled, and it was shaking. Dumbledore rested his trembling hand on Ron's shoulder.

'Will you do that for me?' Dumbledore asked. 

'Yes, sir,' said Ron, and he swallowed, watching the former Headmaster keenly for a long moment as Dumbledore nodded and turned to return to his desk chair. Ron noticed the old man's walk, which was shuffling and hesitant. It took him some time to reach his chair, and when he sat down, it was agonizingly slow.

'Sir...' said Ron slowly. 'Are you...are you ill?'

Dumbledore looked up and smiled sadly.

'I am well as can be expected,' he said. 

Ron opened his mouth to speak, and then he understood what Dumbledore was really saying.

'I would appreciate,' Dumbledore said slowly, 'you not mentioning my...current condition to Harry. I don't want him to worry.'

'But, sir--' Ron began.

'It will pass,' said Dumbledore. 'It is just a touch of influenza, I think. Unfortunately when you are my age, mild illnesses always appear to be worse than they are.'

Ron nodded, but he knew the old Headmaster was lying. 

'Ron?' said Dumbledore. 'Perhaps you should be thinking of getting dressed for lessons.' He smiled slowly.

'Right,' said Ron, and suddenly he noticed for the first time that he was, in fact, still in his pyjamas and dressing gown and slippers. His hair was sticking up and his face was roughened with stubble. He felt a bit ridiculous, and now he was going to have to walk back to his room in this state.

'I'll just...go then, sir,' said Ron. 'Thanks for listening.'

'I'm sure the information you told us will be helpful,' said Dumbledore. 'Thank you.'

Ron nodded and started out of the office. At the door he turned.

'Sir,' he said. 'You'll...you'll be all right?'

'I'll be fine,' said Dumbledore. 'Off you go.'

Ron nodded and left, but as he headed back to his room, ignoring the stares and sniggers of fully-dressed students who watched him walking about the corridors in his bedclothes, he knew Albus Dumbledore was anything but fine. Somewhere deep inside him, Ron knew the Headmaster was dying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron headed down to breakfast feeling tired and a bit irritable. At least it was Thursday, one day before Hermione's birthday and the end of his two sexless, Quidditch-free weeks. Tomorrow might not erase his horrible visions, the secrets he had to keep, his sessions with Firenze, or the nightmare that had become his daily schedule of lessons and Head Boy duties, but at least he'd have his girlfriend and Quidditch back.

About the only thing that had gone right that morning was Hermione's gift; it had arrived via owl as expected. Ron now only had to worry about whether she'd like it or not. She was maddeningly hard to shop for, anyway, and it didn't help that Ron wasn't rolling in Galleons to buy her something really nice. He'd bought her a simple silver necklace with a small locket in the shape of a book, and he'd had the back engraved. 

Lessons had been brutal that week; they were working on Muscle Pulling Curses in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which were quite excruciatingly painful to have to go through ('Is Hopkirk mad? She's going to put someone in St. Mungo's at the rate we're going! Honestly, practicing these things of classmates!' Hermione hissed). Hopkirk also announced that D.A. meetings would commence next week; Neville groaned and looked miserable about that. In Potions they had moved on to Suturing Draughts, which helped close gaping wounds. In Herbology they worked with Acid-Eating Ferns, whose leaves were mixed with crushed slugs and their slime and applied thickly to acid burns on the skin ('I'd rather have the burns,' Seamus muttered). In Transfiguration they'd moved on in their Glamour Spell unit to Bone and Cartilage Restructuring Spells, which felt about as painful as the effects of drinking Polyjuice Potion ('At least we don't have to taste anything,' Harry pointed out, grimacing as his nose grew back to normal when Ron lifted the spell he'd used on him). In Charms they were working on advanced levitation spells involving levitating increasingly bigger and heavier objects. Ron was able to levitate all the other seventh year Gryffindor boys, but the charm was so difficult to control and maintain that he managed to drop Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville unceremoniously onto the magically cushioned floor, and Ron's wand-arm was sore for two days. The only lesson that offered relief at the moment was Care of Magical Creatures, and that was only because the Pgymy Spiketail eggs hadn't hatched yet. But that didn't stop Professor Grubbly-Plank from giving them a unit on the many insect parasites that often plagued the Spiketails. By the end of the Wednesday lesson half the class had arms covered in bites and welts from having handled Skin Burrowing Aphids.

Ginny said she was doing well with her Empath training, and indeed, she looked happier than Ron had seen her in a while. Harry reported nothing unusual in his scar, but for the regular tingling. Once again, nothing was happening with Voldemort. 

At least, not yet.

Then there was Draco Malfoy, or rather, the lack of Draco Malfoy. He'd returned to school just this Tuesday morning, in time for Potions, looking ill and tired and quite the worse for wear, but he'd been silent. Pansy Parkinson fretted over him and he allowed her over-fawning attentions, but Nott, Crabbe and Goyle continued to glower at him, and Ron noticed after their Potions lesson that Malfoy walked gingerly and that two Aurors were flanking him, quite obviously acting as guards. The same two Aurors were now standing a few feet away from Draco as he sat quietly at the Slytherin table, listlessly eating his breakfast. His only companion was Pansy, who ate nothing and kept casting concerned glances at him.

Ron felt the gnawing of pity in his brain again and forced his mind off Draco Malfoy and onto his upcoming day. Harry, Hermione and Ginny came in soon after and joined Ron at the Gryffindor table.

'Hi,' said Hermione. 'I went to your room to fetch you and you weren't there.'

Ron looked at Hermione and swallowed his bit of toast. 'Yeah, well, something happened this morning,' he said slowly, already bracing himself to tell his friends about his vision.

'What?' Hermione asked at once. 'Did you have a--'

'Yeah,' said Ron quickly. 'A bad one.' He leaned forward, and Harry, Hermione and Ginny followed suit. 

'It was about Malfoy's lawyer,' said Ron. 'What's her name Rosier? And another Death Eater. Rodolphus Lestrange.'

'Bellatrix's husband?' Hermione asked. 'He's out and about?'

'Must be,' said Ron. 'I don't remember him from the Riddle House, though. I couldn't see his face in--'here Ron lowered his voice--'my vision, though, so I can't be sure.'

'I remember his name from that tapestry in...in Grimmauld Place' said Harry, also lowering his voice. 'What'd you see, Ron?'

Ron told them. He told them every detail he could, leaving out the bits involving Charlie and Igor Karkaroff.

He just finished his story when the hooting and screeching of owls pierced the Great Hall; one swooped low and dropped a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ in Hermione's lap. Ron stiffened as she tore it open and her eyes rapidly scanned the pages for any news.

'Nothing,' she said almost at once. 'Nothing about...what you saw, Ron.'

'Good,' said Ron. 'I think.'

'You don't remember what those Death Eaters said?' Hermione asked.

'I told you, they were speaking French,' said Ron glumly. 'I got the gist of it, though, and it was bad.'

'The gist isn't good enough,' said Hermione, shaking her head. 'They might have said something really important.' She leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. 'Did you save the memories in your Pensieve?' 

'Not yet,' said Ron.

'Well, do it at lunch,' Hermione ordered. 'And if you like I can take a look at it and try and translate the French for you. I'm fairly good at it by now.'

'Good idea,' said Ron, feeling a little better about the whole thing already.

Next instant he heard the familiar high-pitched hooting of Pigwidgeon, who was flying about excitedly overhead, carrying some letters. He dropped down and landed on Ron's head, hard.

'Ow!' Ron protested. 'Stupid feathery git...'

He snatched Pigwidgeon off his head as the little owl hooted happily and stuck out his tiny leg. Ron glared at the owl and pulled the letters free. He checked the postmark.

'Bulgaria,' he said out loud. 

'What?' said Ginny. 

'There's one for you, too,' said Ron, thoroughly confused.

'Who do we know in Bulgaria?' Ginny asked, and then her face lit up when she saw the name on the back of the envelope. 'Charlie,' she said, smiling. 'Of course, I forgot.'

'Cool,' said Ron, grinning. Charlie had written to them, that was a good sign. There would be nothing incriminating in the letters, of course, but at least Charlie was alive and well and safe.

_For the moment._

_Don't think about that_.

'What does he say?' Hermione asked.

'Weather's crap in Sofia,' said Ginny, reading her letter as Ron's eyes scanned his own. 

'He's in Sofia,' said Hermione. 'That's good, isn't it? He's safe there, isn't he?'

'Looks that way,' said Ron, reading over his letter. 

'Says the dragons aren't as good as they are in Romania,' Ginny went on. 'Misses everyone, says to say hi to Harry and Hermione. Says he hates the food in Bulgaria but that the vodka's not bad and the women are good-looking and...oh...says he's really jealous you guys are working with Pygmy Spiketails in Care of Magical Creatures.'

'Mine says he wants me to chip off a bit of the tail,' said Ron, 'when the thing's fully grown and send the bit to him.'

'You can't do that!' said Hermione, horrified. 'It's against the law unless you are a certified handler and have a license from the Ministry--'

'Charlie's kidding, Hermione,' said Ginny dryly.

'Oh,' said Hermione. 'Of course he is.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day moved quickly. Defense was thankfully entirely devoted to reading this time, but the reading was grisly, as it was all about Bone-Snapping Curses and various deadly spells that could liquefy human soft tissues on contact, leaving the victim a bloody pile of bones and melting organs. Transfiguration was more Bone Restructuring, this time focusing on cheekbones and chins. Ron had put the memories of his vision into his Pensieve, as Hermione had instructed, but in the end she announced she wouldn't have time to look at it until the weekend, because she was busy with figuring out the coded messages in Harry's parents' vault. As such, her spare time was spent either in her room or the library.

That night Ron and Hermione had patrol duties; Ron couldn't stop thinking about the following night, when he'd have Hermione all to himself at last, and as the swelling in his trousers went from pleasant to painful he rather wished he'd thought to take that anti-libido potion. When he crawled into bed later that night he was still in pain. The bottle of potion beckoned him, and he scowled. He didn't like the potion at all. He didn't like that it made him feel sexless. He rather _liked_ knowing he could get horny--it made him feel alive, like a man, like a human being. The frustration wasn't fun but at least it was real. At least it, too, felt like something.

He tried to sleep but Naked Hermione kept intruding on his thoughts. His erection was agony and finally he gave in, not to the potion but to his hand. 

_The hell with __Firenze__. _

Ron hadn't gone two weeks without an orgasm since he'd discovered wanking at the age of thirteen. It was unnatural to go so long without, as far as he was concerned. One day wouldn't make a difference. His mind filled with images of Hermione as his hand slipped inside his pyjama pants.

The relief was intense and fast and messy. He sighed and did a Cleaning Charm, then fell back onto his pillows again.

_Much better. Thank Merlin. A bloke isn't meant _not_ to get of on a regular basis. _

As he drifted off to sleep Ron felt the slightest twinge of guilt. It faded the moment he closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next day, Ron awoke not remembering a thing of what he dreamed, and he guessed it had something to do with wanking. The guilt returned; he hoped he hadn't dreamed of anything important.

He meditated, and found that it was a bit harder today to get focused.

_I shouldn't have wanked. Dammit._

_It's not just that. It's Hermione's birthday, I'm going to get to go to Quidditch practices, I get to have sex..._

_Stop thinking about sex and concentrate! You're supposed to be meditating!_

Needless to say, it took Ron several tries to clear his mind. But then the visions came and they were as clear as ever, except that today there was nothing remotely familiar about any of the people in them. The visions were fast, more like flashes. Clear, but quick as lightning. Some men doing construction on a road somewhere. Two women gossiping in what looked like an office. A teenage girl on a fellytone. A man arguing with another man as they stood in front of their cars, that looked as though they had collided. More visions of wars being fought, somewhere...

And then it was over, and Ron blinked and shook his head, and got ready for class.

At breakfast, Ron wished Hermione a Happy Birthday and gave her a quick birthday kiss, whispering in her ear that there would be a lot more of that later. She giggled and Harry and Ginny looked at each other and made retching noises.

Potions was a bit less miserable than usual. They worked on Coagulating Concoction, which was only slightly less complex than the potions that had come before, but more difficult overall in that it was a lot more volatile. Both Neville and Crabbe's potions boiled over and slopped onto the floor, instantly hardening into a sticky, clear, almost plastic-like substance. Snape took ten points from Gryffindor and shocked everyone by taking ten points from Slytherin. The Gryffindors were still muttering about that when they left the class. Neville apologized profusely for losing the points, but nobody seemed to care; they were too happy to finally see Slytherin get some equal justice.

'It was worth it just to hear him finally take points from his own house,' Hermione whispered.

Ron then remembered that Snape had been sent to deliver word about Ron's vision to Amelia Bones. Nothing had been reported in _The Daily Prophet_ again this morning, which made Ron hopeful. 

In Herbology they finished with the Acid-Eating Ferns; in Charms they began to work on very uncomfortable Body Reshaping Spells. Ron made Harry as fat as Dudley Dursley used to be, while Harry shrunk Ron to roughly Dennis Creevey's height and weight, but neither were able to reverse their spells and McGonagall had to intervene. They got extra homework and Hermione--who completed her spell perfectly as usual--only smiled and shook her head. Ron, for his part, felt sore from having his body shrunken and stretched.

He went to his session with Firenze, who figured out at once that Ron had broken his No Sex Whatsoever rule. Ron meant to lie but instead, to his horror, he found himself confessing and apologising profusely. Something about Firenze's eyes made it impossible to lie to him. In the end, Firenze looked mildly amused and shook his head, and by the end of the session, he was so pleased at Ron's progress that he forgave Ron for, as he put it, 'the sexual infraction.'

Ron's face was still burning with embarrassment when he dropped his books off in his room and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner.

It was at dinner that Ginny pulled Ron aside and whispered that she and Harry had thrown together an impromptu surprise party. Naturally, Dobby was going to decorate and provide the food and butterbeer. Ron bit back a sigh--he'd rather hoped he could get Hermione alone right after dinner and have her all to himself--but he went along with the party idea. Hermione was, after all, turning seventeen--she was legally an adult now. It was a big deal in the wizarding world. He figured if he could survive two weeks without his girlfriend, he could certainly last a few more hours. And considering the secrets he was keeping, not telling Hermione about a surprise party hardly seemed difficult in the least.

He ate heartily at dinner and tried not to get too aroused by the fact that Hermione was sitting very close to him and putting her hand on his knee almost constantly, but it was impossible. And then Ron made the mistake of putting his hand on her knee and her skin was so soft and smooth and she smelled so good. His hand started to go beneath her skirt and Hermione bit her lip and pulled his hand away with hers.

'Sorry,' he muttered.

'It's okay,' she said, smiling. They ignored the curious looks of Harry and Ginny.

It was only a few minutes later, though, that the game started up again; Hermione's hand went first, finding his knee and moving upward, inside his leg. She stopped just shy of _there _but it didn't matter, because he felt like he could split his bloody trousers apart at the moment. His hand found her knee and this time she didn't stop him when he went beneath her robes, her skirt, traveling up the silky surface of her inner thigh. He was close, closer...he felt cotton knickers against his fingers. Hermione sucked in her breath.

'What the hell are you doing?' Ginny said sharply. Ron and Hermione yanked their hands away.

'Nothing,' said Ron.

'Nothing,' said Hermione.

Harry and Ginny exchanged knowing looks and rolled their eyes.

Ron's ears went pink, but then he looked at Hermione, who licked her lips.

_Bloody hell._

'We have to go,' Ron said, to no one in particular, and he grabbed Hermione by the hand and pulled her up. Her eyes widened for a moment but then they were both scrambling from behind the bench and picking up their books.

As they hurried from the Great Hall Ron heard Harry mutter something that sounded like 'Don't hurt yourselves.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was probably the longest trip from the Great Hall to his room ever. He wanted to run, he wished he could just Apparate there, but you couldn't Apparate in Hogwarts and there were too many people around for them to run without raising major questions. Hermione, too, insisted that they walk separately, so as not to alert anyone to their intentions.

Ron increased his pace as far as he dared, hoping he looked suitably businesslike instead of like he was dying to rip off his girlfriend's clothes. It was a good few minutes before he finally reached his room; he went inside, closed the door behind him, and counted the seconds until he heard the knock at his door.

He didn't even ask who it was before he yanked open his door; he took all of a microsecond to register that it was, indeed, Hermione standing there, before he yanked her inside and sealed his door shut. They didn't even make it to the bed.

It was impossible to say who made the first move, only that there was a desperation to it; they practically attacked one another, and it was a frenzy of lips and hands and tongues and muffled words, and they didn't even bother to remove all their clothes, just the things that were necessary. She was pressed between him and the wall next to his door; she performed a Contraceptive Charm as he moved between her legs. He lifted her up and she held onto him for dear life as he pushed inside her and it was like dying and being born all at once. And it didn't matter that this position was exhausting and that he had to hold onto her so hard and that he couldn't touch her body as he usually loved to do. All that mattered was that he was inside her, that incredible connection that he couldn't believe he'd voluntarily given up for two weeks.

And yet as it went on Ron felt his legs weaken and he stumbled and they somehow made there way to his bed, still connected, and fell upon it in a tangle of limbs, and her elbow bumped his lip painfully but he didn't care, and they found their rhythm again, only this time she was able to move with him and he heard her gasp and felt her tighten beneath him, and her release brought on his, and then it was all over but their panting, their pounding hearts.

'Happy birthday,' Ron gasped.

Hermione giggled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Ron, do we have to go to the common room tonight?' Hermione asked. 'I'd really just rather be alone with you.'

'Hermione, Harry and Ginny wanted to give you their gifts,' said Ron, hoping he sounded stern. He would much rather have stayed in his room with her, of course, but Harry and Ginny had gone to the trouble of this surprise party. He felt in his school robes again for the small black velvet box, which he'd had in his pocket all day. 

'All right,' Hermione said, pouting just slightly.

Ron grinned and gestured to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

_'Et lux aeterna,'_ Hermione said to the Fat Lady.

'Of course!' said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open.

Ron watched Hermione crawl through the portrait hole for a moment before following her through. He came into the common room to find it...empty.

'Well?' said Hermione. 'Where are they?'

'SURPRISE!' 

Hermione gave a squeak as students suddenly leapt up from behind sofas and chairs and from behind curtains and tapestries. Seamus, Lavender and Parvati blew on loud noisemakers; Colin Creevey snapped a photo with his camera. Another sixth year boy was in the corner, ladling out cups of some kind of punch. Lizzie Towler and a group of third year girls were throwing streamers. Dean Thomas pointed his wand to the ceiling and suddenly there was flashing, blinking stars everywhere. Harry pulled something up from the coffee table, waved his wand at it, and suddenly there was a banner in the air--made, no doubt, by Dobby--that said 'HAPPEE BURTHDAE HARMEWONY'.

'Happy Birthday, Hermione!' Ginny yelled.

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. Ginny moved to hug her, followed by Harry. Dean was about to hug Hermione when suddenly she burst into tears.

For a moment there was absolute silence in the common room but for Hermione's choked sobs.

'Wha--' Dean began.

'Hermione, don't cry!' Harry and Ron said. She gave another loud sob and waved her hands in front of her face.

'Oh, no,' said Ginny. 'Hermione, we're sorry, we didn't mean to--'

'This is...' Hermione blubbered, 'the N-NICEST thing anyone's...ever d-done for me!' 

'Huh?' said Dean and Seamus.

'I've never had a surprise birthday party before!' Hermione wailed. 'Th-thank you so much!'

Ron let out a sigh of relief and he and Harry laughed.

'She'll be fine,' Ron called. 'Resume celebrations.' Almost at once the noise started up again, and Ron put his arm round Hermione's shoulder and led her further into the room. She was still crying as she made the rounds, hugging everyone as she went, even some first years who were already dressed in their pyjamas and dressing gowns. She returned to Ron's side and smiled up at him, her eyes puffy and her nose red. 

'Hang on, love,' he said, kissing her on the cheek, as he fetched her a cocktail napkin. She took it and blew her nose heartily.

'You planned this?' she asked.

'This was Harry and Ginny's doing,' said Ron. 'I had...other stuff in mind.' 

'What sort of stuff?' she asked.

'Well, we kind of took care of a small part of it already,' said Ron, grinning. 

'Just a small part of it?' she asked, taking his hand. 'What else is there?'

'Well, there's this,' he said, pulling the black box from his robe pocket. 

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the box, but then she pushed his hand down. 'Give it to me later. Let's just hang out here for a while.'

'Not too long, though, right?' he said, putting the box back in his pocket.

'Not too long,' said Hermione, and they joined the party in earnest. There were dozens and dozens of bottles of butterbeer, but Hermione opted for punch. The common room was already turning into a mess, with confetti and streamers and noise makers everywhere, not to mention the crumbs of food that were dropping between students fingers' as they ate the many sweets that Dobby had brought. But Hermione didn't seem to care; she was, Ron saw, quite literally basking in the attention she was getting. He grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and went over to Harry, who was engaged in animated chatter with Neville and Ginny.

'Cheers,' said Ron, clinking his bottle against Harry's, then Neville's. Ginny was drinking punch.

'Thanks for this,' Ron added. 'She looks like she's having a good time.'

'Yeah, well,' said Harry wryly, 'Ginny and I weren't sure you two would even show up.'

'Ha ha,' said Ron, swatting Harry on the back of the head.

Ron glanced again at Hermione from across the room; she took another glass of punch and smiled at him before resuming a conversation with Natalie MacDonald.

For the next hour and a half Ron and Hermione circulated; Ron would have preferred to be alone with her but it was nice to see her socializing so freely instead of engaging in her usual solitude in the library. At ten McGonagall showed up long enough to order the younger students to bed; the fourth years and below grumbled as they headed up the stairs, but then McGonagall left, and the party resumed, smaller in numbers but no less exuberant. Ron downed a few more butterbeers and took a glass of punch and felt a pleasant warmth spreading in his body.

He meant to leave with Hermione then, but found himself drawn into a vigorous Quidditch discussion with Seamus, Dean and Harry. Half an hour later Ron was definitely ready to go. The only people up were the seventh years and Ginny. He looked around for Hermione and found her talking, quite happily, with Parvati and Lavender. They were giggling and looked to be gossiping together.

The mere fact of seeing Hermione engaged in something like gossip with Lavender and Parvati gave Ron pause, but then he saw Hermione sway where she stood and hiccup quite loudly. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were unfocused.

'Oh shit,' Ron muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'It wash a good party...' Hermione slurred, as she leaned against Ron, who was half dragging, half carrying her back to his room. 'Everyone wash sho nishe...'

'Don't talk, love,' Ron hissed, shifting under the Invisibility Cloak.

Hermione's response was to hiccup loudly and start to giggle. Ron shushed her desperately and continued his awkward lumbering toward his room. Hermione was dead weight against him, and her stumbling gait was hardly helping them make quick progress. Then there was the added burden of having to crouch beneath the cloak, which had long been to small to cover Ron if he stood upright.

Trying not to imagine all the horrors that would come if he got caught dragging his very drunk girlfriend back to his room, Ron kept his eyes peeled for Peeves. Hermione was still hiccupping and in the quiet of the corridors the sound echoed like a drum. Ron stopped for a moment, took out his wand, and cast a Silencing Charm on her. It didn't stop the hiccupping but at least it made her go quiet.

As Ron turned the corner to his room he cursed Seamus Finnigan silently for the tenth time. It was Seamus who had spiked the punch; he'd been quite blithe about the whole thing. Hermione had had four cups of the stuff, and for her, tha was an incredible amount of alcohol to drink. Ron had squelched the urge to first punch Seamus and then launch into a scathing lecture as to why it was stupid beyond reason to spike punch at a party that was being attended by first years, and instead gathered Hermione up and told the remaining party-goers that he would give any and all of them fifty detentions if they dared make fun of Hermione the next day, or mention her drunkenness to anyone. And in a moment that the twins--if they ever learned of it--would never let Ron live down, he gave Seamus a detention and took twenty points.

Seamus had had the grace to look guilty and apologized; Harry and Ginny both swore they knew nothing about the punch. In the end, everyone agreed to Ron's demands.

And now here was Ron, at the door to his room, under a stifling Invisibility Cloak (Harry had readily let Ron borrow it), holding up his girlfriend, who was pissed out of her mind and was mumbling things that he couldn't hear, thanks to that Silencing Charm.

So much for his romantic plans for her birthday.

He muttered the password to his door and went inside as it clicked open. His bed was still rumpled from their earlier activities, and Ron scowled to think that he wouldn't be getting any more of that tonight. Not with Hermione in this condition.

He yanked off the Invisibility Cloak and let it drop, not bothering to fold it.

'Ronnie...' Hermione murmured. The Silencing Charm was wearing off.

'I'm here, love,' he said, and he picked her up and carried her to the bed and set her down on it, and then sat down beside her. She flopped back onto the mattress and looked up. She was smiling what she probably thought was a very alluring smile, except that her hair was stuck to her face and her eyes were out of focus, and the smile only made her look drunker. She lifted herself up unsteadily onto her elbows. 

'Ronnie...' she purred, and then she giggled again. At least the hiccupping had stopped. 'Aren't you...going to give me my birthday preshent?'

Ron looked at her and couldn't help but smile. She was, at least, an amusing drunk. He really ought to just do a Sobering Charm on her but he didn't know how, which was pathetic, really, considering how many times he'd seen his brothers get trolleyed on firewhisky.

'You want your present now?' he asked. 'Okay.' He reached into his pocket for the black velvet box and pulled it out.

'No, not that!' said Hermione, batting his hand away. He quickly put the black box on his desk. She sat up sloppily and flung herself at him, throwing her arms round his neck. 'Kish me...'

''Mione, wait--'

His protest was silenced as she kissed him. He was half expecting the kiss to be as sloppy as her behaviour but he cursed inwardly when he noticed that for being so drunk she still managed to remember how to use her mouth.

_Dammit, I can't be getting turned on! She's drunk and we are _not_ going to shag while she's in this condition!_

She broke away and giggled.

'Mmm...' she said, and she let out a breath, filling his nostrils with the odour of heavily spiked punch. 'Do you know what I want?' she asked slowly.

'To go to sleep?' said Ron, smiling. He started to push her down gently onto the bed.

'No!' she said, pouting. 'I want...you to...give me a good _rogering_!...Ickle Ronniekinsh...'

She flung herself at him again, kissing him enthusiastically. He tried not to kiss her back, he really did, but even if she was three sheets to the wind she still kissed brilliantly. Then he felt her hand on his crotch.

She pulled back and giggled. 'Ishhat for me?' she said. 'Isshat my preshent?'

_Oh, hell._

''Mione,' said Ron, his voice cracking. 'Maybe you should just rest.'

Her response was to kiss him again. He moaned inwardly and clenched his fists but he let her kiss him...

She pulled back suddenly, and Ron saw that she looked very green.

_Uh, oh..._

'I shink I'm gonna be shick...' she groaned. 

'Oh, shit...' Ron cried.

He grabbed her and yanked her into the bathroom; he managed to hold her hair out of the way as she collapsed over the toilet and vomited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Hermione finally passed out, with her arms wrapped around the toilet bowl and her face pressed against the toilet seat, she had spent a half hour throwing up. Ron shook his head as he pulled her against him and wiped her face with a cool, damp washcloth; he peeled back the sweaty curls that had stuck to her face.

'You cannot hold your liquor,' he murmured aloud, and he sighed again and brushed a kiss across her forehead. She gave a little moan and shifted, and he picked her up gently in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom, where he set her carefully down on the bed. He pondered how to approach the following morning. Typically she had risen early and crept back to her own room, but seeing the way she was out cold now, Ron doubted he'd be able to get her up early, and there was no question of him taking her back to her room in this condition; he couldn't make it past the magical barriers on her door. He'd simply have to risk letting her sleep here all night and hope that, tomorrow being Saturday, nobody--well, nobody outside the Gryffindor sixth and seventh years, anyway--would notice anything.

With that decision made, Ron set about gently undressing her; by the time he pulled off her bra and she wore only a pair of simple white cotton knickers, he took a deep breath and cursed Seamus again. Hermione was so completely unconscious she didn't make a sound, except for a light snoring, through the entire process.

Ron wasted no time in looking at Hermione in almost no clothes; he grabbed the closest t-shirt he could find--his favorite, oldest Chudley Cannons one--and pulled it over her head. He set her back down on the bed, lifted her legs up so he could free the covers from beneath them, and then pulled the covers up over her. She gave a sigh and turned on her side, clutching the pillow.

Ron then set about undressing and brushing his teeth; when he climbed into bed he was exhausted, and yet as he settled in next to Hermione and watched the rise and fall of her shoulders in his old orange t-shirt, he almost felt like crying.

_Damn you, Seamus!_

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**French translations:**

**1. 'Enough. You do not want to kill him, Rodolphus. Not yet.'**

**2. 'Helene. What does our lord want done with him? Apart from the obvious.'**

**3. 'Igor will be a message for our lord, Rodolphus. You are given leave, also, to make the message as painful and evident as you wish.'**

**(Note to the French experts reading this: I used WorldLingo to help me with some of the translations; they are close, but not exact and any mistakes are both mine and WorldLingo's)**

  


* * *

[1] 'Enough. You do not want to kill him, Rodolphus. Not yet.'

[2] 'Helene, what does our lord want done with him? Apart from the obvious.'

[3] 'Igor will be a message to our lord, Rodolphus. You are given leave, also, to make the message as painful and as evident as you wish.'


	25. Chapter Twenty Five: Letters and Meeting...

_Chapter Twenty-Five: Letters and Meetings_

_12 December 1978___

_Dear James,_

_I got your letter. If you are a sap for writing me more than once a day, I suppose I am sap for reading your lettesr a dozen times already. _

_I'm glad to hear that Auror training continues to be manageable. Mad-Eye filled me in on some of the details of the training--in rather more vivid detail than I would have liked--and I only hope you're being careful. Is it wrong for me to be glad that the other Marauders aren't there to inspire you to get into trouble? _

_Work for me is...work. I wish I had the freedom to tell you about it but I can't. Well, I could but then I would have to kill you. The best I can say is that we are making progress in our research, and that we've narrowed down our prospects._

_In lighter news my mother is taking me to pick up my wedding dress at the weekend. This whole wedding planning business is madness, I tell you. Be glad you're the man in this relationship. I don't mind some of the attention but if I have to talk to one more maiden aunt of mine about flowers or place settings or buttercream versus fondant, I'm going to scream. And to answer your question from your first letter of the 9th, yes, we do have to invite __Vernon__ and Petunia. I know, it's horrible, but given that Petunia would rather let a herd of muddy pigs into her house than have anything to do with me, it is a safe bet she and her fat troll of a husband won't be gracing the festivities with their presence._

_I miss you, and yes, I am being safe. I suppose you will ask me this in every letter you write and I will tell you so in every letter I write. I hate that we have to be careful now, though. I hate the way people walk so fast and look over their shoulders. I suppose I work so hard because I just want this to be over, and working takes my mind off the fact that you're not here with me. I tell myself it's only another two weeks until we get to see each other, but it still seems far away. You do plan on kicking Sirius out of your flat when you get home, though, I presume. And if not, you had better, because the things we are going to do should not be observed by an audience._

_I love you,_

_Lily_

_P.S. Give Frank and Alice my love._

Harry read the letter again. He'd finally found some time this week to pore through his parents' correspondence, but so far the letters had told him very little, but that his parents clearly loved one another, were planning a wedding, didn't like Petunia and Vernon, and were very fond of the Longbottoms.

On this last point, Harry felt a familiar pang in his chest. Frank and Alice Longbottom had trained with James Potter; the Longbottoms had become Aurors. What had they been like, before that horrible night when the Lestranges and Barty Crouch, Jr. had tortured them? Had James finished his training? Harry didn't know--he hadn't gotten that far in the stack of letters. And it was a huge stack; his parents wrote each other constantly. But for all the communications, the letters were frustratingly mundane.

Lily made frequent, veiled references to her work, but they were so vague as to be incomprehensible. Harry still didn't know what it was his mother actually _did._ He knew she'd been in the Order, of course, but was there something else?

And once again Harry's thoughts were dragged back to those codes. He knew Hermione had been working on them; in fact, she'd been working so hard in general that he was starting to get a bit worried for her. She was burning the candle at both ends, with her studies and her research and her Head Girl duties. It was a testament to her toughness and character that she wasn't cracking up the way she had in third year, but the tiredness in her eyes, the pale colour of her skin were still worrying to Harry, and Ron had spent the better part of the week reminding Hermione to eat.

Despite this, Harry couldn't help but feel impatient for Hermione to crack those codes already. It was unfair of him, he knew, but after reading through more than a dozen of his parents' letters and learning nothing of importance, his frustration was near the breaking point.

It didn't help that he hadn't learned a thing about Voldemort's plans. He'd tried Legilimency every night that week, and it was all for naught; Harry reached out with his mind and collided with a blank wall. Either Voldemort was blocking him completely or Harry was doing something wrong, and he suspected it was the latter. In the past, he had always been able to make contact for at least a few seconds; Voldemort had never been able to keep him locked out completely. But now...

Harry groaned and dragged himself out of bed. It was Saturday, the morning after Hermione's birthday party, and a fine day outside, at least. Harry took a quick shower, shaved sloppily, dressed, and headed down to the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione were not at breakfast, which surprised none of the older Gryffindors. Hermione had consumed a fair share of punch at her party and Harry guessed that--not being one to imbibe alcohol--she was probably holed up either in her room or Ron's, puking or lying in bed with a crushing headache. Ron, it appeared, was acting as her caretaker.

Harry ate breakfast with Ginny, Colin Creevey and a few other Gryffindors, all of whom joked about Hermione's drunkenness from the night before. Harry noticed that Ginny was none the worse for wear for having had a glass and a half of punch the night before.

'Unlike Hermione I know when to say when,' she muttered, grinning.

The joking stopped the moment Seamus joined them; he still looked highly disgruntled at having received a detention.

'Hey,' he said, nodding at Harry, as he and Dean Thomas sat down. 'Well, the Head Couple's not here.'

'Ron's taking care of her,' said Dean, smirking.

'I'll bet he is,' Seamus grumbled. 'Like he really cares about the first years. The only reason he got so shirty was because she got drunk.'

'And if Hermione hadn't gotten drunk,' Ginny pointed out, 'and found out you spiked the punch, you would have lost fifty points, she would have told McGonagall, and you would have served a week's worth of detentions.'

'Good point,' said Seamus.

After breakfast, Harry returned to the common room. It was quiet this morning; it was already well into the morning and most of the students had taken to the outdoors for what was likely the last truly pleasant weekend of the year. Harry headed upstairs to fetch his books; perhaps he could go down to the lake with Ginny and get in some studying.

He headed into the dormitory and found Neville there. He was stacking some books on his desk, only he seemed so nervous that he kept dropping the heavy tomes onto the stone floor.

'Neville, you okay?' Harry asked.

'Merlin!' Neville gasped, and he leapt back. 'You gave me a start.'

'Sorry,' said Harry, holding up his hands. 'What's up? Why are you so jumpy?'

'It's Hopkirk,' said Neville fretfully. 'I've got a meeting with her this morning to go over the curriculum for the D.A. meetings.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and he considered something. 'Do you...want me to go with you? I'm sure I could help out. I don't have Quidditch practice until half past two.'

'Thanks,' said Neville, 'but Hopkirk told me specifically to come alone. Said Dumbledore wants me to jump right into it.'

Harry nodded, but he felt uneasy, and the grimace on Neville's face didn't help. Harry didn't blame him for being nervous; it was bad enough being in the same room with Professor Hopkirk during a Defense lesson. It could only be worse sharing a room with her all by oneself.

'Well,' said Harry, 'I, er, I've got a few notes from last year, if you want. Bill--Professor Weasley--asked me to put some together. I've got them in my trunk, if you want them.'

'Yeah,' said Neville gratefully. 'That would be really helpful. I was supposed to come all prepared with ideas but my schedule's been too busy--'

He broke off and flushed, looking as though he'd said something he hadn't meant to.

'You and Luna?' Harry prodded gently, smiling.

'No!' said Neville at once, blushing. 'Well, okay, yeah, but that's not all. I...I don't know if I should say...'

'Okay,' said Harry, shrugging, but then Neville went on anyway; clearly, he felt the need to unburden his soul.

'I'm working on a project,' he said.

'What sort of project?' Harry asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

'It's a secret,' said Neville. 'But...well, it's in the early stages but I'm running some tests and it's going well so far.'

'Tests for what?' Harry asked.

'A memory retrieving potion,' said Neville, in a low voice.

Harry's eyes widened. 'You're...you're working with Snape on this?'

'No!' said Neville, looking horrified. 'No, with Sprout. Snape, are you kidding? But Sprout's helping me get certain ingredients, see.'

Harry watched Neville for a moment.

'Neville,' he said slowly, 'is this...to do with your parents?'

Neville looked up sharply for a moment, and then nodded. 'I don't know if it'll make a difference. They've been like that for...for a long time. It might be too late.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry at once. 'I shouldn't have--'

'It's okay,' said Neville. 'I'm pretty used to it by now. I have a top-notch collection of gum wrappers and scraps of paper but...anyway. I figure even if it can't help my mum and dad it can help other people, right? What with...what with this war going on, there's bound to be people...getting hurt with that curse. And I figure it might help me down the road, when I apply for medi-wizard training.'

'I didn't know you were interested in that,' said Harry, impressed.

'Yeah, well, I probably won't get it,' he said, shrugging. 'You need really good Potions marks and Merlin knows mine stink. But...I thought I'd give it a whirl, anyway.'

There was an awkward silence.

'I should go,' said Neville. 'Do you have those notes?'

'Right,' said Harry, and he quickly opened his trunk and rifled through it, finding an old stack of parchment; he flipped through the many pages and found what he was looking for.

'Here,' he said, handing the pages to Neville. 'Good luck. Don't let Hopkirk weird you out.'

'Too late for that,' said Neville, grinning. 'Listen, Harry, don't tell anyone about--'

'I won't,' said Harry.

'Thanks,' he said.

'You, too,' said Harry.

'For what?' Neville asked.

Harry pointed to his scar. 'You know.'

'Right,' said Neville. 'Well, have a good practice.'

And with that, Neville left the dormitory.

Harry headed down to the Quidditch pitch at two o'clock. When he got there Ginny, Parvati and Lizzie were already there and changed; Harry greeted them briefly, noticing the bright smile Parvati gave him, and headed into the boys' changing rooms.

'Hey,' said a voice, and Harry looked up.

'Ron,' said Harry. 'You made it.'

'Of course I made it,' said Ron. 'Where else did you think I'd be?'

'Oh, I dunno, maybe with Hermione,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'How's she doing?'

'She's not hungover anymore,' said Ron, and Harry noticed the corners of his mouth turning up.

'Christ, Ron,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'I don't think I want to know what you did to cure her, okay?'

Ron held up his hands. 'Hey, you're the one with his mind in the gutter, not me.' He smiled again and raised his eyebrows. 'I will say that this morning totally made up for her getting pissed last night, though.'

'I get it,' said Harry. 'Now would you quit thinking about shagging and get your mind on Quidditch?'

'Already on it, mate,' said Ron. 'Dean knows I'm back in?'

'Yeah, I told him he's sitting out this one. I figure we can give the alternates every fourth practice, include them in on strategy, of course.'

'Of course.'

'Hey,' said Seamus, as he entered the changing rooms and immediately started pulling on his Quidditch gear. 'How's Hermione?'

'She's fine,' said Ron coolly. 'I'd steer clear of her if I were you, though. For at least the next twenty-four hours.'

'Right,' said Seamus.

The practice commenced and all told, things went well. Ron's flying was a bit stiff, but Harry expected that; what mattered was that he was blocking nearly every goal that flew his way. The sun came out in force and made the practice sweaty work, which made Harry's glasses slip down his nose with annoying frequency--he made a mental note to ask Hermione about a Sticking Charm. Colin hit one wild Bludger that nearly unseated Lizzie, but she handled herself well and simply rolled out of the way.

The one thing that eluded Harry, however, was a clear strategy for the upcoming match next month. The Chasers all meshed well; Ginny was the superior overall flyer but Parvati matched her for passing and Lizzie for speed. But all three girls, however tough, were nonetheless small, and therefore more vulnerable. Harry knew he should be able to come up with some idea to maximize their strengths and minimize their risk of injury, but for the life of him he couldn't think of anything. He added to his list of mental notes to ask talk about the issue with Ron.

Dinner was quiet; Hermione made a brief appearance and made a point of looking particularly dignified. Seamus and Dean bit their lips and focused quite steadily on eating, but nobody said a word about her condition the previous night.

She stayed only long enough to wolf down some dinner, talk small talk with Harry, Ron and Ginny, and fly out of the Great Hall again, announcing as she went that she was going to the library. Harry and Ron exchanged looks and shook their heads.

Later in the evening Hermione returned to the common room; Harry and Ron were playing wizard chess and Ginny was in a corner talking with Colin Creevey. Most of the students were in bed.

'Hey,' said Harry, as Hermione flopped down onto the sofa. She looked very disgruntled.

'These damned codes!' she said angrily.

'Language, love,' Ron teased, but she threw him a nasty look and he held up his hands in apology.

'I take it...you haven't solved them,' said Harry gently.

'No!' said Hermione snappishly. 'It's right there, in front of my face, I know it. I'm just missing something. Something that's probably embarrassingly obvious.'

'Hermione, it's okay,' said Harry. 'You don't have to flog yourself over it.'

'Well, it's frustrating!' she said irritably.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks and smiled; Hermione truly did hate not having all the answers.

'I might as well get my homework done,' she said, pulling several books from her school bag.

'Hermione, it's Saturday,' said Ron. 'Take a break.'

Hermione cleared her throat primly and opened her Potions book.

'I took quite a break earlier in the day, Ron,' she said pointedly, her eyes skipping over the text. 'If you'll recall.'

Harry sniggered and Ron's ears went pink.

The weekend was over before Harry even realized it. He'd left his homework late again and found himself spending most of Sunday working on it. When Monday rolled round he was tired and a bit cranky and made yet another vow to himself not to leave homework until the last minute.

He went to breakfast and the first thing he did was to pour himself a large mug of coffee. Ron and Hermione appeared and sat down, respectively, next to him and across from him. Ginny joined them a moment later, looking tired and drawn.

'It's the Empath training,' she explained in a low voice. 'The Pensieve helps but Mrs. Tonks is really working me.'

Ron scowled. 'Maybe she should back off a bit,' he said.

'No, it's okay,' said Ginny, pouring some coffee of her own. 'I need the work, the sooner I can get this under control the better.' She glanced at Harry and smiled at him, a bit sadly, and he smiled back.

Harry dug into his porridge when a rush of wings announced the morning post. A moment later the latest issue of _The Daily Prophet_ plopped unceremoniously into Hermione's lap. She paid the delivery owl and looked down at the front page, and gasped.

'Look!' she said, and she passed the paper to Ron; he and Harry stared at the headline.

_'BREAKING NEWS: ATTACK IN __VARNA__ THWARTED: THREE DEATH EATERS ARRESTED, ONE KILLED.'_

'Whoa,' said Ron and Harry together.

They read the article together, with Ron reading aloud in a muffled voice.

'_Breaking news: A Death Eater attack on the Bulgarian city of __Varna__ has been thwarted, officials in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic reported today. _

_'At approximately 5:00 this morning Death Eaters attempted an attack on two key government buildings in Varna, but were met dozens of members of the Bulgarian Secret Magical Police. There was a violent skirmish at the Bulgarian Magical Treasury, which resulted in the death of one Policeman and serious injuries for two others; their names are being kept confidential. One Death Eater was killed in the attack, and he was identified by an informant to the Secret Police as one Katarina Dolohov; Miss Dolohov is the sister of Antonin Dolohov, also a Death Eater, who was killed this past summer in another battle with Aurors here in Britain. A second attack was attempted outside the Department of Defence; there was a brief battle but there were no serious injuries, and the Police managed to apprehend three Death Eaters before the rest could Disapparate. The three Death Eaters who were apprehended are identified as Walden Macnair, Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint.'_

'Macnair,' said Ron. 'I thought he went to Azkaban.'

'No, Avery went to Azkaban,' said Harry. 'Macnair got out before he could get caught.'

'Marcus Flint?' said Hermione. 'Wasn't he--'

'Quidditch captain for Slytherin,' said Harry and Ron together, and Ron shook his head.

'Have to say,' he said, 'I never figured Flint for the Death Eater type. A prat, to be sure, but too stupid to go that far. Didn't he repeat a year?'

'If Crabbe and Goyle can be Death Eaters--' Harry began in a low voice.

'We don't know that they are,' said Hermione quickly.

'Their fathers are,' said Ron, 'so you can bet they're training their boys up.'

'Point is,' said Harry, 'intelligence isn't a prerequisite for being a part of that club.'

'Keep reading,' said Hermione, nodding at the paper.

'Right,' said Ron, and he continued.

_'Bulgarian officials are negotiating with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the British Ministry of Magic to extradite the three captured Death Eaters--all citizens of the United Kingdom--back to Britain after they have faced trial in Bulgaria. Messrs Macnair, Pucey and Flint are all wanted in Britain on charges of assault, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and extortion. All three Death Eaters are currently being held at a maximum security prison in Blageovgrad. They have asked for solicitors and have refused to answer any questions._

_'The Bulgarian Minister, Ivan Svetlov, confirmed as well that a similar Death Eater attack that had been planned for the capital city Sofia was in fact a ruse to distract from the real attacks on Varna. The Daily Prophet has learned that a single anonymous tip by an unknown person or persons was behind the Bulgarian ministry's sudden change of plans to mobilize the Secret Police out of the capital and into __Varna__. Under repeated questioning, Minister Svetlov refused to comment as to the source of the tip he had received, except to say that the source was well known to him and infinitely reliable.'_

Ron stopped reading and set the paper down. He was breathing a bit heavily and was staring down at his hands.

'Ron, are you okay?' said Hermione, reaching across the table to take his hand.

'Fine,' he said weakly. 'I'm okay.'

'Wow,' said Harry, looking at Ron and feeling impressed. 'You were right, Ron.'

'I guess I was,' Ron said, his face still pale, and he took a swig of coffee.

'Weird,' Harry said suddenly, as something occurred to him.

'What?' said Ron.

'I just realized,' said Harry. 'I didn't feel anything. From Voldemort. He's got to be angry about this. Really angry. But I didn't feel anything.'

'What do you think that means, Harry?' said Hermione.

'I dunno,' said Harry, and he let out a breath. 'I've been trying Legilimency but I can't get anything. It's like going into a black hole every time I try.' He looked at Ginny.

'I haven't had any dreams,' she said. 'They stopped when I started using the Pensieve.'

Nobody said anything for a moment.

'Hard to know,' said Harry.

'What's hard to know?'

'If Voldemort's silence is good or bad this time,' said Harry.

As with the first two weeks of term, the third sped by. Their defense lesson was taken up entirely with Shield Charms. Professor Hopkirk had a few students demonstrate some Shield Charms and pronounced them thoroughly unsatisfactory.

'Your Charms are pathetically weak,' she said. 'At best they'll repel a Stunner, but anything stronger and you'll go down.'

And so they spent the whole of the lesson working on strengthening their Shield Charms; Harry, for his part, already had a powerful Shield Charm, having used one to save Susan's life from Voldemort. When Hopkirk came by to observe his charm, she called a halt to the lesson and directed their attention at Harry, demanding that he demonstrate. She threw a Bone-Breaking Curse at him and he blocked it.

'That, class, is what a real Shield Charm should so,' she said. 'Nicely done, Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor.'

Hermione was furious, however.

'Throwing a Bone-Breaking Curse at a student?!' she fumed, all the way to Transfiguration.

That lesson proved to be no less difficult, but it was made entertaining by the fact that McGonagall announced--very stiffly--that they would be practicing Gender Changing spells. The response to this news was a combination of murmuring and muffled laughter, and McGonagall looked as though she had expected this.

'Excellent,' Seamus muttered under his breath. 'I've always wondered what it's like to have tits.'

Harry sniggered.

'Not everyone will be working the spells today,' said McGonagall. 'It is an extremely complex procedure that requires patience and perfect technique. This type of glamour goes beyond mere surface change. There are hormonal changes that occur as well as basic structural changes, and a full gender change through a spell is dangerous. If done incorrectly, permanent damage to certain vital organs will result.'

At this, an audible gulp could be heard among the male students.

'Suffice it to say that safety and accuracy are crucial,' said McGonagall. 'The first part of the lesson will be wand technique only. The second half will be practical application. As amusing as this lesson typically is to teenagers I must insist that you engage in your spell work with the utmost seriousness, to minimize the risk of injury.'

She paused and looked round the room.

'One more thing,' she said. 'Every year there is at least one student who finds it amusing to engage in inappropriate behaviour involving his or her temporary body parts,' said McGonagall, her lips pursed in disapproval. 'If I see any such lewdness in this class by anyone, he or she will receive a week's detentions and lose house points.'

Ron and Harry exchanged nervous glances, but then the class began to work on wand technique and incantations. It was all very complicated and more than once Hermione stepped in and corrected them. Then it was time to work the spells themselves.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, grimacing.

'Ready to be a girl?' Ron said.

'No,' said Harry.

They went through the spells carefully. It hurt, all of it, and Harry didn't dare look in a mirror to see what he looked like in a female body. It was bizarre and frightening having nothing between his legs, and whatever McGonagall had said about lewdness, Harry had to resist the urge to grab his crotch. Having breasts, too, was strange, but that wasn't altogether bad. In fact, it was quite enticing. His hands itched to touch them.

'Yer actually quite pretty, Potter,' Seamus said, sniggering. 'Weasley, on the other hand...yikes.'

'Shut up,' said Ron.

'Shut up,' Harry hissed, his voice oddly higher. 'Shit, Ron, change me back now. This is too weird.'

Ron complied, and Harry was thankfully himself again, and entirely in one piece This time he did grab his crotch. McGonagall didn't notice.

_All there.__ That was too weird_.

'Now hurry and do me,' Ron snapped. 'Shut up, Seamus,' he added, as Harry waved his wand and performed the many counterspells.

'Thank Merlin,' Ron muttered, his voice back to normal, and he too, put his hand over his crotch. 'I don't ever want to do that again--GAHHH!'

He jumped back and nearly bumped into Harry to see Hermione come forward; her hair was short, her body was decidedly male and she had the beginnings of facial hair as well as hairy legs, which showed beneath her skirt.

'What?' she asked, her voice low and gruff. She was grinning.

'God, change yourself back!' Ron cried, covering his eyes. 'Unless you want me to have nightmares.'

'Oh, honestly,' said Hermione. 'Neville, can you?' A minute later Hermione was herself again, and she tapped Ron on the arm; he was still covering his eyes with his hand.

'You can look now,' she said in her normal voice.

Ron opened his eyes and let out a breath. 'Thank god. That was way too bizarre,' he said.

'Mr. Finnigan! I warned you! Detention for a week!'

'It's Dean's fault,' Seamus muttered as they left the classroom; he was rubbing at his flat, very male chest ruefully. 'He had to go and give me tits the size of Quaffles. What was I supposed to do?'

'I said I was sorry, mate,' said Dean, but he didn't look that sorry. 'Those were some nice ones, though.'

Hermione gave a disgusted snort, and for once Lavender seemed to agree with her.

'Oh come on,' said Dean jovially.

'Is it too much to ask for you not to talk about girl's body parts like they're playthings?' said Hermione irritably.

Harry noticed Ron was being conspicuously silent. Harry quickly decided to change the subject.

'Even you have to admit it was funny, Hermione,' he said, 'when Goyle couldn't change Crabbe all the way back.'

'Crabbe the Hermaphrodite,' said Ron, laughing.

'Ron,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes, but she did smile.

'Somebody should have told Crabbe to go fuck himself,' said Dean, laughing.

'I think he could literally do it,' said Neville, grinning.

'Really!' said Hermione, throwing up her hands.

Tuesday came and their Potions lesson involved brewing Memory Retrieval Potion. Harry thought at once of Neville's secret project, but Hermione murmured that this particular potion--widely regarded to be the best and strongest available and the only one that didn't produce unpleasant side effects, like convulsions and hair loss--had limited applications. It was another exceedingly difficult potion to make and it smelled so foul that Snape had to cast a Ventilation Charm on the dungeons to keep everyone from either passing out or vomiting.

Charms involved more levitation work, and Herbology was spent working with Flaming Ficuses, dangerous plants whose leaves flared up unexpectedly but whose stems were useful in treating glaucoma. Wednesday's Care of Magical Creatures was another wholly boring exercise of building new nests for the eggs, which had grown about a half inch in size.

Wednesday night arrived with the announcement of the first D.A. meeting of the term. Neville spent the whole day looking a bit queasy and very nervous. His meeting with Professor Hopkirk had been, in his own words, 'the weirdest and scariest meeting with a teacher I've ever had.' Considering how terrified Neville had once been of Snape that was saying something.

At seven o'clock, the fifth year students and above headed back to the Room Great Hall in the company of a small regiment of Aurors. Their presence had once again become so normal to Harry that he rarely noticed them anymore. He felt a bit guilty about this and often told himself he really should try and get to know them--after all, he was planning a career as an Auror, and these Aurors were risking their lives to guard the school--but something always came up to distract Harry from his goal, and in any case, the demeanor of the Aurors suggested they preferred to be left alone to do their jobs.

The Great Hall was emptied of tables and chairs, and the stone floor had been replaced with thick matting, to act as a cushion. Aurors were dotted here and there throughout the room, and in the far corner stood an unfamiliar wizard wearing what looked like sickly-green coloured pyjamas with a large 'H' emblazoned on the front of his shirt. Over his clothes he work dark green robes.

'Guess we're going to be falling down a lot,' Seamus muttered.

'Your attention!' came a booming, authoritative voice. Everyone stopped chattering and looked up to find Professor Hopkirk standing on the daïs in front of the Head Table. She was wearing all black again, but instead of robes she wore an outfit that reminded Harry of the sort of thing a covert operations soldier in the Muggle army might wear. Her shirt was love-sleeved and had a high turtle neck; over the shirt was a vest with various pockets. Her trousers also had numerous pockets--one of which held her wand--and were tight fitting, leaving little to the imagination. On her feet were heavy black leather boots that laced up. Her strawberry hair was pulled back in a severe bun.

Neville stood several feet away from her, looking at her nervously and appearing as though he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

'Welcome to the first D.A. meeting of the year,' Hopkirk said smoothly. 'Everyone remove your school robes, please.'

Harry exchanged looks with Ron and shrugged, and in the next moment there was the sound of robe clasps opening and heavy fabric swishing as robes came off. Hermione folded hers neatly as Harry and Ron balled theirs up; she gave them a look and shook her head. Very quickly, everyone in the room had removed their robes and stood in their school uniforms.

'From now on, all of you will come to meetings in your weekend clothing,' Hopkirk ordered. 'I expect during the course of our training that a little blood might occur. We don't want to soil your uniforms, now do we?'

Hermione bristled and Harry could swear he heard the whole room gulp collectively.

'Now,' said Professor Hopkirk sharply. 'There is one main objective this evening. To cast a perfect Shield Charm each and every single time your opponent attacks. Speed, accuracy and strength are what I want from all of you. A strong Shield Charm can repel many of the nastiest forms of Dark Magic, including the Killing Curse.'

And suddenly, before Harry even really knew what was happening, Professor Hopkirk drew her wand and whirled on Neville; it was so fast that Hopkirk looked like nothing more than a blur of strawberry blonde hair and black clothes.

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

A scream rose up from the room and Harry watched the scene as if it were in slow motion, the green light of the curse racing towards Neville. But Neville was already moving.

_'Protego!'_ he shouted, and a golden glow shot from his wand and collided with the green light of Hopkirk's curse and exploded, sending sparks of green and gold light bursting into the air. In the next instant, there was another collective scream as Hopkirk's beam of green light rebounded and flew into the back wall of the Great Hall with a loud crash, leaving behind a smoking black hole in the stone surface. An acrid smell rose from the smoke left behind by the explosion.

For the next several seconds, there was a silence, so complete that Harry could have heard a pin drop, and yet so loud it seemed to be screaming in his ears. The entire room was staring alternately at Professor Hopkirk--who looked as though nothing untoward had happened, as though she hadn't just thrown a Killing Curse at a student--and at Neville, who was panting and still holding his wand up; his eyes were furious and terrified at the same time, and his face was ashen.

The Aurors in the room were all standing stock still, as well; clearly, they had expected something like this to happen, as none of them had struck at Professor Hopkirk for using a Killing Curse.

'Professor,' came a horrified voice. It was Hermione. 'You...you...'

'Yes, Miss Granger?' Professor Hopkirk asked.

'A Killing Curse?' Hermione exploded. 'At a student? Are you mad?'

Now everyone was staring at Hermione, who hadn't mouthed off to a teacher since the Umbridge days--and even then, Hermione had never lost her temper.

'I assure you, Miss Granger, I'm quite sane,' Professor Hopkirk said coolly. Hermione stared at her in unchecked fury as Hopkirk walked gracefully over to Neville.

'Good show, Mr. Longbottom,' she said silkily. 'Very good show. As you can see, Neville deflected the Killing Curse.' She smiled and it was an altogether chilling effect. 'And you all thought that was impossible.'

'It _is_ impossible!' Hermione yelled.

'Hermione,' Harry warned, but she was ignoring him.

'I'm sorry,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'Did you miss something, Miss Granger? You see, from where I stood, Mr. Longbottom quite clearly deflected the curse I threw at him. I'm guessing everyone else in this room would say the same.'

'There's no spell or charm that can deflect a Killing Curse!' Hermione protested.

'Hermione, let it go,' said Ron.

'Are you doubting what you just witnessed with your own eyes, Miss Granger?' said Hopkirk, her own eyes widening. 'Clearly there is a way to block the Killing Curse, and Mr. Longbottom just demonstrated it.'

'But...no,' said Hermione, shaking her head. 'No, it's impossible, there's no documented case of any shield charm ever deflecting the Killing Curse. You must have...you must have thrown a different curse or something.'

'I assure you I didn't,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'But you are right, Miss Granger, that there are no documented cases of anyone deflecting the Killing Curse, because up until now, no one has. There hasn't been a Shield Charm developed that was strong enough to deflect the Killing Curse. Now there is. And I promise you, you won't find any references to it in any books. But I'm delighted to see that it works. Mr. Longbottom here is our test subject, you see, and it's quite encouraging to note--'

'You can't do this!' Hermione burst out, and she started forward.

'Hermione, don't,' Ron hissed, but there was no stopping her as she stormed right up to the dais and to Professor Hopkirk.

'You can't throw Killing Curses at students!' Hermione raved. 'You could have killed him! This is wrong and you know it, Dumbledore can't approve of this! I'm...I'm reporting you to the Ministry!'

'Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, shaking her head. 'Mr. Longbottom is fine. He accomplished what he was supposed to do. In real-world situation he would have saved his own life.'

'Hermione, it's okay,' said Neville.

'No, it's not okay, Neville!' Hermione cried. 'She almost killed you--'

'Enough!' Professor Hopkirk bellowed, and her voice seemed to fill the room. A collective gasp now went up as Hopkirk's icy eyes became so pale it was almost as if she had no irises at all. Her face, normally alabaster-white, became flushed with fury.

Hermione went silent and her eyes widened in genuine fear.

'I will not have my teaching methods questioned by you, Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, advancing on Hermione; Hopkirk looked incredibly tall and imposing and Hermione shrank back; Harry saw Ron take a step forward.

'Ron,' Harry warned, gripping Ron's arm. Ron stopped, but his eyes were fixed on Hermione. Everyone else, however, stared at Hopkirk in awe and fright as she continued to walk, to glide toward Hermione menacingly.

'Do you really think a Death Eater would take the time to ask you whether your Shield Charm was powerful enough to block his Killing Curse?' Hopkirk said, in a cold, dangerous voice. 'You, Miss Granger, you of all people have seen what they do. They use the Cruciatus Curse on Muggle-born children for the fun of it. They torture their victims until their victims are begging them to kill them and have done with it. They rape and murder because they like to do it. They care nothing for rules and regulations and playing fair. And you, you have faced Death Eaters and have seen what they're capable of, you have the gall to question how I prepare my students to face that enemy?'

'I was only--' Hermione protested weakly.

'Report me to the Ministry, Miss Granger, I dare you. Go to Professor Dumbledore. They'll all tell you the same thing. We cannot afford to follow the rules anymore.'

By now Hermione's eyes were filled with tears and her lip was trembling.

'You have a choice, Miss Granger,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'You do not have to like me but you will either learn from me or get out. There are no half-measures in my class. Though I take the safety of my students seriously this is not playtime. We are here to defend our lives, to defend the lives of others. If you are not prepared to do this, to do whatever it takes, I suggest you leave.'

At this, Hermione straightened up and looked Hopkirk squarely in the eye. A single tear escaped down her cheek but her lip stopped trembling and she cleared her throat.

'I'll stay,' she said, in a clear strong voice, and for a moment the air crackled with electricity as she stared at Hopkirk, and Hopkirk stared right back.

Suddenly Hopkirk's mouth curled into a smile.

'A wise decision,' she said sinuously. She gave a nod and Hermione turned on her heel and walked off the dais and back to Harry and Ron; it was only when she got closer that Harry saw that she was trembling.

'Hermione,' Ron whispered, and he tried to pull her into an embrace.

She pushed away. 'I'm okay,' she said, and her mouth went into a hard line and her brown eyes flashed dangerously. 'I'm fine.'

Ginny put a hand on her arm, and Harry watched as Hermione's face loosened slightly; Ginny smiled painfully for a moment.

'You didn't have to do that, Ginny,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, I did,' said Ginny, pulling her hand away.

And suddenly the room became filled with the sounds of murmurs again.

'Fancy that about Neville,' whispered Colin. 'I never knew he was so quick with a wand.'

'He must have been practicing,' said Dennis.

'Now,' said Professor Hopkirk loudly, 'before Miss Granger's outburst you all managed to witness Mr. Longbottom very effectively deflect my Killing Curse. He was alert, he was fast, and he was accurate. It is this kind of skill that is needed in true defence. Of course, deflecting the Killing Curse has a drawback--the curse will ricochet off the charm, instead of being absorbed and destroyed by it, which means the curse risks hitting an innocent when it bounces off the charm. Something to think about. The only other way to escape the Killing Curse, I'm afraid, is to duck. Now, in deference to Ministry rules I will not be teaching anyone how to use a Killing Curse, nor will we be demonstrating the anti-Killing Shield Charm any further this evening. However, I'm sure you'll all consider my demonstration with Mr. Longbottom to be instructive. Pair up.'

For a moment nobody moved.

'Are you all deaf?' Hopkirk snapped. 'Pair up!'

At once there was a wave of movement. Ron and Hermione paired up, as did Colin and Ginny. Harry was disappointed at not having Ginny for a partner--though he never liked the idea of throwing curses at her--and began to cast about for a partner of his own when Parvati appeared.

'You and me, Harry?' she asked, tossing her black plait over her shoulder.

'Sure,' said Harry.

'Attention!' Hopkirk called. 'The curses we'll be using are the Muscle Pulling curse, the Bone-Breaking curse and the Asphyxiation Curse. If all of you have your Shield Charms up to snuff, everyone should leave here without a scratch. If You will go back and forth with your partner, alternating between curse and defence, for twenty minutes. If anyone is hurt, you will stop dueling immediately. Despite what certain people think, I do care about ensuring your safety.' She gave a cool glance at Hermione.

'You will alert me to any injuries with red sparks from your wand. We have a fully qualified medi-wizard here'--Hopkirk indicated the wizard in the dark green robes--'to deal with any injuries.'

Hermione gave a nasty sound, like a cat hissing, but she took her position across from Ron.

'Remember,' said Hopkirk smoothly, casting a glance at Hermione, 'no half measures.'

Harry and Parvati took their own positions.

'You first or me?' Parvati asked.

'Er, you first,' said Harry. 'For the curse, I mean.'

'Okay,' said Parvati nervously. 'I'm sorry in advance if I break your leg or something.' She smiled winningly at him.

'I don't intend to let you get that far,' said Harry, grinning.

'You may begin,' Hopkirk called.

_'Confractum femoris!'_ Parvati cried, throwing a leg-breaking curse at Harry.

_'Protego!'_Harry yelled, blocking the curse in a shower of sparks. _'Lacero bracchium!'___

_'Protego!'_ Parvati shrieked, and she blocked the curse, just barely, but she wasted not a moment before throwing another curse. _'Examino!'_

_'Protego!'___

And on it went. Parvati held her own quite well, to Harry's pleasant surprise, and by the time Professor Hopkirk called 'Stop!' both had managed to block all the other's curses.

'Good show, Parvati,' said Harry, wiping sweat from his forehead.

'You too,' she said, dabbing at her own forehead with her sleeve. She smiled again, but then Harry saw a red glow coming from somewhere in the middle of the room.

'I said stop!' Hopkirk yelled, and suddenly Harry heard the sound of shuffling and the beginnings of shouting, and he turned, along with the rest of the students, to see Hopkirk racing to the center of the room; an Auror was close behind. And suddenly Hopkirk and the Auror--a young wizard with black hair--were pulling the furiously struggling form of Draco Malfoy back.

'What the...' Ron muttered, as he, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Parvati all clumped together to see what was going on.

'Malfoy, that's enough!' Hopkirk snarled, gripping his wand arm with surprising strength and using her legs to lift him back, but Draco had the advantage in upper body strength and shook her off; the young Auror, however, held on and it was only when he pointed his wand at Draco's chest that Draco stopped struggling. By now all the Slytherin students were gathered together, watching the spectacle and exchanging looks with each other.

Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment and then looked down to see Theodore Nott lying flat on his back; his leg was bent at a hideously unnatural angle, blood was seeping from his nose and mouth and he was coughing and holding his left wrist. The room again was silent but for the sounds of Nott's coughing and moaning, and Hopkirk and Draco's voices.

'What do you think you're doing?' Hopkirk demanded furiously, as Draco ran a hand through his hair; other than the sweat on his face and the disheveled state of his hair, he looked none the worse for wear. Indeed, he had not a scratch on him.

'Dueling,' said Draco icily.

'You were told specifically to stop if you injured your partner,' said Hopkirk furiously. 'He sent up red sparks.'

'I didn't see,' said Draco coldly.

Hopkirk gave a disbelieving snort. 'Then did you miss the fact, Mr. Malfoy, that Mr. Nott already had a broken leg and a sprained wrist? That he has multiple injuries?'

'No,' said Draco evenly, meeting her cold blue eyes with his stony grey ones. 'I didn't miss that fact. I suppose he needs to work on the speed and accuracy of his Shield Charm.'

By now the medi-wizard was working on Nott, dabbing at the damage to his face with a viscous looking salve.

'I do not tolerate rule-breaking, Mr. Malfoy,' said Hopkirk, her voice low and dangerous. 'Multiple injuries to this student mean you were breaking the rules.'

'Oh well,' said Draco.

Professor Hopkirk straightened to her full height. 'Detention, Mr. Malfoy,' she said. 'Starting tonight. My office at ten. I'll make your excuses for missing curfew to Professor Snape.'

'Fine,' said Draco defiantly.

'Get out,' said Hopkirk viciously. She nodded to the Auror standing next to her. 'See that he goes straight to his dormitory.'

Draco sneered at Hopkirk before he stormed out of the Great Hall. Pansy started to go after him.

'Miss Parkinson, unless you want to risk losing house points I suggest you stay right where you are,' said Hopkirk. She went back up to the daïs; nobody spoke, and Harry couldn't remember a D.A. meeting ever being so tense or nerve-wracking. Hopkirk turned and faced the students.

'I meant what I said,' she said coldly. 'There will be no rule-breaking in these meetings. No settling of scores, no schoolyard fighting. We have a common enemy, and it is not anyone in this room. Never forget that.'

The meeting ended a half-hour later; they went back to dueling again and by the end of it Harry was exhausted, but neither he nor Parvati had managed to get a curse past the other.

'I had fun working with you, Harry,' said Parvati, as they filed out of the Great Hall. 'Well, maybe "fun" isn't quite the right word...'

'I know what you mean,' said Harry. 'You were good.'

She gave him an openly flirtatious smile. 'So were you,' she said, and she bit her lip and put her fingertips on his arm. 'I wonder what else you're good at.'

_Bloody hell.___

Harry felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed.

'I'm looking forward to Hogsmeade,' she said.

'Me, too,' said Harry, and he meant it. Or at least he was pretty sure he did; it was hard to be sure of anything when she looked at him with those sparkling dark eyes of hers, that were almost black.

'Oi, Harry,' Ron called.

'I'll see you later, Harry,' said Parvati, and she brushed her fingertips over his arm and jogged up to walk with Lavender.

'What's up?' Ron asked, catching up with Harry.

'Nothing,' said Harry quickly.

'Are you and Parvati--' Ron began softly.

'No,' said Harry quickly. 'I mean...we're sort going to Hogsmeade together but...'

Ron sniggered. 'You move fast,' he said. 'First Daphne, now Parvati...you're turning into a right slag.'

'Shut up,' Harry muttered, punching Ron lightly in the arm.

'Well,' said Hermione, and her voice was tight. 'That was by far the most outrageous--'

'Hermione,' said Ron, 'don't start. You'll just work yourself up again.'

'But Hopkirk's dreadful!' Hermione protested, in a voice loud enough to suggest she didn't care who heard her. 'And I don't care what she says, there's no way to deflect the Killing Curse, people have been trying to come up with a spell for centuries to deflect and nobody's done it. And maybe we are...at war but that doesn't mean she can--'

'Hermione,' said Ron, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing it. She started to say something else but she must have caught something in Ron's gaze, because she sighed and nodded; he put his arm round her shoulder and drew her close as they headed toward Gryffindor tower.

'You have to admit, though,' said Harry darkly. 'Hopkirk has a point.'


	26. Chapter Twenty Six: Ciphers

Chapter Twenty-Six: Ciphers 

The talk of Hogwarts that week was of almost nothing but the D.A. meeting. A few of the Ravenclaws started a betting pool to see who would win in a duel between Professor Hopkirk and Hermione; the pool quickly died when Hermione promised detentions to anyone caught betting on it, and Hopkirk announced in Defense lesson on Thursday that she had no intention of ever dueling with a student in any setting. She seemed not to be counting her very brief skirmish with Neville as an actual duel.

The other subject, of course, was Draco Malfoy. Theodore Nott spent four days in the hospital wing recovering from his injuries; Malfoy had managed to use six nasty curses on him before the other boy was able to send up red sparks from his wand. Malfoy, for his part, was almost never seen at mealtimes anymore, and Harry could only imagine what his detention with Professor Hopkirk might entail. But the school was buzzing with the news of the dissension going on in the Slytherin House. Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass seemed particularly annoyed with all the chatter; they had been trying so hard to put a positive spin on their house, but it appeared that the newfound rivalry between Malfoy and his old cronies was simply too juicy to ignore.

Harry and Daphne had reached a kind of understanding; he knew he'd never date her again but he found that he couldn't help but like her company all the same. They found time to chat casually on occasion, and as the days passed, Harry stopped thinking about how strange it was to be friends with a Slytherin. Ron and Hermione also appeared to like Daphne well enough. Blaise Zabini was a bit more aloof and harder to read, but according to Hermione, he was making quite an effort in their prefect meetings--which were, according to Ron, far too frequent and boring to be believed--to be helpful and supportive.

In the meantime, lessons went on. Ron and Hermione announced that they and the prefects had planned a ball for Halloween. Harry held Quidditch practices three nights a week; they were meant to play Slytherin, but with the hostility amongst Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott--who came out of hospital over the weekend--Harry had to wonder just what sort of match it would turn into.

'Maybe Crabbe and Goyle'll try and knock Malfoy off his broom instead,' Ron suggested.

Ron and Harry had worked out a new strategy for the Chasers, which involved them flying in a kind of figure eight formation; it cut down on the speed of flight, but the three Chasers were so quick on their brooms, and so small, they were able to maneuver the formation easily and pass more frequently, thus creating more confusion.

In the interim, Ron continued to work with Firenze; he'd had visions, but none had been like the one he'd had about the attack in Bulgaria. The visions were mostly of people he'd never seen before. Ginny continued to work with Mrs. Tonks, whom Harry hadn't seen since the night he'd met her. Harry and Ginny fell back into their easy companionship, which pleased him a great deal, but she was still maintaining a bit of distance between them. Hermione stopped trying to crack what she had dubbed 'the Potter Conundrum'--the codes on the many pieces of parchment. This frustrated Harry a bit, but she thought that perhaps she needed to step away from it for a little while.

Instead, she said, she thought she'd get back to her research on 'blood issues' to see if there was anything to be found that might weaken Voldemort.

Harry moved through his parents' letters; he was now in the period just before their wedding, and though the letters were often funny and quite romantic, they told him nothing practical.

It was the Wednesday before Hogsmeade visit when another wrinkle was added to Harry's already wrinkled life.

It happened at dinner. Luna Lovegood joined their table and sat next to Neville. She wore her huge radish earrings, but for some reason nobody was sniggering about them anymore. She and Neville quickly got lost in each other for a while, but when pudding arrived, and Harry was just going to ask about this Halloween ball, Luna broke in and said, 'So, Harry, are we going to work on wandless magic or not?'

Harry nearly spat out his treacle tart.

'Sorry?' he said, confused.

'You don't remember,' said Luna, shaking her head. She glanced at Neville. 'He doesn't remember,' she said to him.

'Remember what?' Harry asked, wishing Luna would get to the point.

'The meeting,' said Luna. 'With Dumbledore. He asked that I work with you on wandless magic.'

Harry remembered, and he felt a slight sinking in his stomach. He liked Luna well enough and didn't mind working with her, but the thought of the extra workload, on top of all he was dealing with, didn't appeal to him.

'Oh, right,' he managed. 'Sure.'

'Tonight, after dinner?' Luna suggested.

'Can't,' said Harry. 'Quidditch practice.'

'Tomorrow after dinner, in Professor McGonagall's classroom?'

Harry hesitated, but then nodded. 'Tomorrow, after dinner.'

'Very well,' said Luna. 'I'm going to the library now. Shall I see you soon, Neville?'

'Yeah,' said Neville, smiling at her with an unmistakably romantic gleam in his eyes. She bent and kissed him on the cheek and walked away, her radish earrings swinging.

Next day brought more challenges. In Defense, Professor Hopkirk announced that it was past time for them to start learning how to throw off the Imperius Curse.

Hermione glared at the professor but said nothing; after that first D.A. meeting, in which she'd blown up at Hopkirk, Hermione had become rather quiet about the Defense professor. Harry assumed that Ron had managed to calm her down, and that Hermione herself had realized that although Hopkirk was an abhorrent individual, her lessons were nonetheless cruelly necessary. Still, Harry couldn't help noticing that in recent days, Hermione had seemed quite tense. Ron might be keeping her calm for now, but Harry wondered when the blow up would occur.

'I'll need a volunteer,' said Professor Hopkirk sleekly. She turned her eyes on a group of Ravenclaws. 'Ah. Mr. Boot, how about you?'

Terry Boot flushed and said, 'Er, okay.'

'Come up here,' said Hopkirk, gesturing with her left hand, in which she held her wand.

Terry swallowed and walked to the center of the room, just in front of the raised dais upon which Hopkirk's desk stood. Professor Hopkirk smiled at Terry and licked her lips; Harry shuddered and was grateful beyond belief that it wasn't him up there.

'Are you nervous, Mr. Boot?' Professor Hopkirk asked.

'Yeah,' said Terry.

'Your honesty is refreshing,' she said. 'I'm going to place the Imperius Curse upon you, after which I am going to order you do certain things. You are going resist my commands. Understood?'

Terry said nothing; he simply nodded. He looked utterly terrified, and yet he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the Professor. Harry felt the familiar sticky heat and closed his eyes for a moment; it was disgusting to feel aroused by her, and yet there was no way to avoid it.

Before Harry had a chance to reflect further on this, he heard Hopkirk's voice ring out with a curse.

'_Imperio__!_' A jet of light struck Terry in the chest, and at once, his face went slack and his shoulders slumped; his limbs appeared to be almost dead weight, and Harry wondered how he was even standing up. Professor Hopkirk took a step toward Terry and spoke.

'Tell me your name,' she ordered.

'T-Terry,' Terry said, and his voice sounded thick, almost like he'd had a bit too much to drink.

'No!' Hopkirk snapped. 'You give in too easily.'

Terry blinked and let out a breath; the entire classroom was silent, watching the proceedings with wide eyes.

'Resist, Mr. Boot,' said Hopkirk, her pale eyes going even brighter, even icier. She licked her lips again.

'Tell me your name,' she said again, her voice a low growl.

Terry opened his mouth to speak, but he blinked again, and his eyes cleared for a moment, and suddenly his body began to tremble and his forehead broke out into a sweat.

'Tell me your name,' Hopkirk repeated, slowly, drawing out each syllable like some sickening caress.

Terry groaned and looked at Hopkirk in the eye.

'N-No!' he barked, and suddenly there was a rush of energy in the room as the curse lifted off him. The whole room gasped as one and Terry stumbled. He was sweating and panting from the exertion of throwing off the curse.

Hopkirk looked at him appraisingly for a moment, and then smiled.

'Not bad, Mr. Boot, ten points to Ravenclaw,' she said, as he looked up at her with a mixture of contempt and admiration. 'A fair start, anyway,' she added. 'Who's next? Ah, of course. Miss Granger.'

'Hermione,' Ron and Harry whispered together, but she brushed Ron's hand from her arm and stepped forward.

'Well,' said Professor Hopkirk, as Hermione took a position in the center of the room, 'are you ready?'

'Yes,' said Hermione coldly, her eyes boring into Hopkirk's. Hopkirk's pink upper lip curled into a sinister smile and she pointed her wand at Hermione's chest.

Almost casually, the professor said, '_Imperio__._'

The spell struck Hermione hard and she staggered for a moment, and Harry wondered if Hopkirk was somehow using a stronger version of the curse; he wouldn't put it past her.

'Tell me your name,' said Hopkirk.

Hermione, whose body was limp and face slack, looked stupidly at the Professor for a moment, but almost at once, Harry could see her resisting; she clenched her fists.

'Tell me your name,' Hopkirk repeated, raising her voice.

Still, Hermione was silent; she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and her lip trembled, as though she wanted to speak, and yet she held back. She wasn't throwing off the curse yet, but she was resisting all the same.

Ron watched it all with his face screwed up in concern; his hands were worrying the front of his robes.

Professor Hopkirk's smile became wider. 'I believe I need a change of tactics for you, Miss Granger,' she said. 'Very well.' She paused. 'Kneel down. And lick my shoe.'

'That's not--' Ron began furiously.

'Silence, Mr. Weasley!' Hopkirk hissed, throwing him a glare, and for the briefest moment, Harry and Ron saw it: her eyes changed. For a flash of a second her ice blue eyes burned red, and a rush of heat, followed by a wave of cold, raced past them.

'What the fuck...' Harry muttered under his breath.

'Hermione...' Ron whispered, watching as she stood in front of Professor Hopkirk.

Hermione was shaking now, almost violently.

'Kneel, Miss Granger!' Professor Hopkirk said forcefully. 'Kneel and lick my shoe.'

Hermione gave a kind of squeak in her throat and her knees started to bend.

'Don't!' Ron burst out, without thinking, but this time, Hopkirk ignored him. Hermione stopped halfway down, her legs shaking with the effort of standing with her knees bent.

'Kneel, Miss Granger!' Professor Hopkirk yelled, her voice booming throughout the room.

Hermione's eyes began to leak tears, and there was sweat pouring down her face. Her knees buckled again, just slightly, but suddenly she let out a yell that seemed to start deep within her belly and cried, 'NO!'

The curse didn't lift off her so much as explode; the force of the expelled curse sent a ripple through the room. Hermione let out a huge breath and collapsed to her knees; Ron was on his feet and helping her up in the next instant.

'Hermione,' Ron whispered urgently, but his voice echoed through the room in the awed silence. 'Are you okay?'

'Fine,' Hermione gasped, and she clung to Ron but looked up defiantly at Professor Hopkirk. Hopkirk regarded her with a cool and admiring gaze.

'Well done, Miss Granger,' she said. 'Twenty points to Gryffindor.'

Five more students were subjected to the Imperius Curse; Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst both threw off the curse, but only after several tries. Neville threw it off after one abortive first attempt. Seamus wasn't able to throw it off at all, and cost Gryffindor half the points that Hermione had earned them, but the points were earned right back, and twenty more besides, when Harry went up and was able to throw off the curse almost as soon as Professor Hopkirk threw it.

'All of you should be at Potter's level within three weeks,' said Hopkirk, and she assigned them an essay on the physiological and psychological properties of the Imperius Curse, as well as a reading portion on Blood Clotting Curses, a nefarious type of blood clotting charm that, instead of helping to heal a wound, caused whole pints worth of blood within a person's body to coagulate and kill. But through the whole of the lesson, from the moment Hermione sat down after her own turn with Hopkirk and the Imperius Curse, Harry knew Ron was seething, and it was hard to tell if he was angrier at Hopkirk for putting Hermione through what could have been something horribly humiliating, or Hermione for so deliberately baiting Professor Hopkirk.

'What the hell were you doing?' Ron hissed at Hermione, the moment the lesson ended and they were out in the corridors. They had stopped walking even before they started. Harry bit his lip and lingered nearby, ready to step in if the row got too bad.

'I was throwing off the Imperius Curse, Ron, what did it look like?' said Hermione impatiently.

'Dammit, Hermione!' Ron said angrily. 'What are you trying to prove, anyway? What if she had succeeded and you'd...you'd licked her bloody shoe?'

'She didn't succeed!' said Hermione hotly. 'I won, Ron. I threw off the curse. I beat her!'

'Is that was this is about?' Ron asked, shaking his head. 'Putting one over on her?'

'You were right, Ron,' said Hermione fiercely. 'And you, Harry. You were both right. And she was right. Okay? There, I admit it.'

'Hermione, what does that have to do with--' Harry began.

'I am not going to be intimidated by that...that sadistic bitch,' Hermione said furiously, though she had the wherewithal to keep her voice down. 'If she thinks she's going to scare me anymore....' Her voice trailed off for a moment, and suddenly she started to walk, very briskly, so briskly that even Ron, with his long legs, had to rush to keep up.

'Thinks she's so perfect,' Hermione was muttering furiously. 'Thinks she knows everything about defense just because she went to Durmstrang. I've fought Death Eaters! Has the gall to think I don't care about whether students can protect themselves...why else am I Head Girl? Thinks there's actually a spell that can deflect the Killing Curse--'

'Well, there is,' said Harry.

'Harry!' said Hermione angrily. 'That's ridiculous, of course there isn't!'

'How do you explain Neville, then?' said Ron.

'A fluke, obviously!' said Hermione. 'Some...unknown magical fluke of some kind.'

'Hermione, I deflected a Killing Curse, too,' said Harry, grabbing her by the arm to stop her from walking.

'What?' said Hermione, stopping in her tracks.

'At the Riddle House,' said Harry. 'Voldemort threw a Killing Curse at Susan. I used a Shield Charm and...the curse bounced off it.'

'I don't...did you tell me this?' said Hermione.

'I don't remember,' said Harry.

'I don't either,' said Hermione, and she groaned and put her head in her hands. 'Dammit...no, it's okay,' she said quickly, when Ron put a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll just add that to the list but...well, Harry, you did cause the Killing Curse to rebound onto Voldemort when you were a baby; you have the protection of your mum's blood. Maybe that's why you were able to deflect it.'

'I'd believe that if I hadn't seen Neville do it, too,' said Harry.

'Maybe Hopkirk invented that anti-Killing Shield Charm,' Ron suggested. 'Maybe that's why we've never heard of it. She could have been working on it before she came to work here--'

'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ron,' said Hermione wearily. 'She's intelligent, but she's not that brilliant. It takes years and years and a tremendous amount of skill to actually invent a charm.'

'Just a suggestion,' said Ron, a bit defensively.

Hermione sighed and gave him an apologetic look. 'I'm sorry,' she said at once, and she put a hand on his cheek. 'I shouldn't bite your head off. I'm just...I feel like I need a holiday.' She sighed again and rubbed at her eyes.

'Hermione...' said Ron slowly. 'You have to take care of yourself--'

'I know,' said Hermione quickly, smiling up at him. 'You know, I think I'll have a nap before Transfiguration. Can you save me a bit of lunch, Ron?'

'Okay,' said Ron, looking at her with concern. She ignored the look, but she kissed him quickly on the lips and turned down the corridor, heading in the direction of her room.

'What's going with her, Ron?' Harry asked.

'She's been like this since the first D.A. meeting,' said Ron. 'Every spare minute she has, she spends in the library.'

'That's new?' said Harry dryly, but his smirk faded when he saw the look on Ron's face.

'This is different,' said Ron. 'Remember in third year, how she was a mess because of that Time Turner? It's like that, only I know she's not using a Time Turner this year. She's just...running herself ragged, and I keep telling her to slow down, but she won't listen...' Ron's voice trailed off and he let out a sigh, and Harry realized that he was genuinely worried.

'I take it your...usual methods of getting her to relax aren't working?' said Harry gently, grinning. Ron laughed half-heartedly and grinned weakly.

'Nope,' he said, shrugging. 'Well, she hasn't really made any time for that since...since her birthday.'

'That was a week and a half ago,' said Harry.

'Yeah,' said Ron glumly. 'And just so you know, my meditating is top notch at the moment.'

Harry had little time to dwell on Hermione once Transfiguration began. She came back and looked a bit refreshed from her nap, at least, and in a better mood; she gave Harry a quick smile and then gave another to Ron that was entirely different, the kind of smile a girl gives only to her boyfriend. Ron smiled back, and at least for the moment, things seemed to be better.

That changed the moment Professor McGonagall charged into the room. That day's lesson was devoted to Aging Spells.

The lesson went on without any major incident. Harry paired up with Neville and had a laugh over seventy-year-old Neville's bald pate and seventy-year-old Harry's prominent pot belly. Ron and Hermione took turns on each other as well.

Ron worked the spell on Hermione first, after a few abortive attempts. When the spell worked Hermione changed; her smooth skin began to wrinkle; her eyes drooped slightly; her hips widened a bit, and her brown, bushy hair became grey, bushy hair.

'Wow,' said Ron, admiring the effect, as Hermione folded her arms over her chest.

'What?' said Hermione.

'You look really good for an old woman,' said Ron, his eyes wide.

'Really?' said Hermione doubtfully, and she reached up a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand to smooth down her frizzy hair; the effort was futile.

'Yeah,' said Ron, smiling. 'Our grandkids are going to brag about how pretty their gran is...' His voice trailed off and his ears went pink, and Hermione let out a little squeak.

'Grandkids?' said Harry, looking from one to the other. Ron and Hermione suddenly both looked horribly embarrassed.

'Yeah,' Ron said finally, laughing sheepishly. 'You know...hypothetically speaking.'

'Of course,' said Hermione, biting her lip. 'Er...your turn, Ron.'

She performed the Aging Spell on him, and Ron became old before their very eyes. He became thinner again--almost as he had been when he was fifteen--and his shoulders stooped; his brilliant red hair went white and covered his head in a thick halo.

'I've still got my hair,' said Ron, sounding very pleased about this as he ran his hand through the white strands. 'I thought I'd go bald like Dad.'

'You look very distinguished,' said Hermione, almost shyly. The two of them were looking at each other as though they had just started going out. Harry wondered about Ron's comment regarding grandkids, whether it was something purely off-hand or...

_No way. He can't be thinking of...of that _now_. He's only seventeen._

Harry blinked and strove to break the tension. He noticed Ron's almost concave stomach and frowned.

'How come you don't have a belly?' Harry grumbled, poking at his own fleshy, swollen middle.

'It's my incredibly fast embolism,' said Ron.

'Metabolism,' Hermione corrected. 'Does anyone else's back really hurt?'

'Mine does,' said Parvati, whose black hair was salt-and-pepper grey and whose eyes were crinkled, but she was still quite beautiful.

'What I want to know is,' said Seamus, whose head was mostly covered in silver hair except for a small bald patch in back, 'is whether I'll still be able to get it up.'

'Seamus, really, can't you think of anything else?' said Old Lavender, whose slender body was almost painfully thin, and whose hands were slightly gnarled from what appeared to be arthritis. 'Ow,' she said, flexing her knuckles. 'My joints hurt.'

'Hang on...' Ron muttered, as he scratched his ear. 'Do I have hair in my _ear_?'

Harry, Ron and Hermione left the lesson fully back to their normal, seventeen year old selves.

'Interesting lesson,' said Hermione; her tone of voice suggesting she was aiming for an absent tone, but her eyes darted to Ron quickly, and then forward.

'Yeah,' said Ron.

Harry looked at them again and shook his head; then he noticed Ron and Hermione fall back slightly. They were looking at each other as though nobody else was around.

'Er, hello?' said Harry. 'Ron?'

Ron looked up and strode over to Harry, pulling him aside.

'Do you mind grabbing us a bit of food at dinner?' Ron asked.

'Skipping it, are you?' said Harry, amused, as Hermione pursed her lips and went slightly pink in the cheeks.

Ron looked back at Hermione for a moment, who was looking at him with a slightly awed expression on her face.

'Yeah,' he said.

'That was better, Harry,' said Luna, as she looked up at him from her position on the floor.

'Are you okay?' he asked, holding out his hand to her to help her up.

'Fine,' said Luna breezily. 'The Cushioning Charm is working. You're quite good at wandless magic, you know.'

'I guess,' said Harry doubtfully, as she took his hand and let him help her from the floor.

They'd been working solidly for the past half hour; Luna was putting him through his paces. Twice she'd demonstrated her own skill at the Defensive Charge, sending him hurtling clear across the room. Harry's own skill was far weaker; thus far the best he'd been able to do was simply to knock her down.

'You don't sound convinced,' said Luna perceptively.

'I dunno,' said Harry. 'I just...it'd be nice to be able to toss someone across a room.'

Luna smiled beatifically. 'Yes, well, it's all very well and good but you only really need to knock your opponent down in order to gain an advantage, and you're able to do that now.'

Harry shrugged, and they continued for another half hour. By the end of it, Harry was sweaty and tired and they were both disheveled, but he had finally managed to throw Luna a few feet away with the Defensive Charge. They parted ways--Luna gave him an oddly formal handshake--at just past eight o'clock.

Harry returned to the dormitory, took a quick shower, and headed down to the common room to study. There were only a few third years sitting over in a corner, working on homework, but he found Ron there, setting up his books on the coffee table and sitting on the sofa.

'Hey,' said Harry, putting his own books down heavily on the coffee table. 'Where's Hermione?'

'Library,' said Ron, pulling out a piece of parchment.

'Again?' said Harry. 'Didn't you two, er...you know?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, shrugging.

'Is everything okay, Ron?' Harry asked.

'I guess,' said Ron, in a low voice. 'I mean...we were...you know, and it was really amazing and...then it was over and I thought she might want to...you know, stay a while, only she jumped up and said "Of course!" and got dressed and told me she was going to the library and practically ran out of my room.'

'And that's weird,' said Harry, though he was not asking a question.

'Well, yes and no,' said Ron. 'I mean, you know how she is, she gets some brilliant idea and she's always running off to the library without explaining herself. Only this time it was right after...you know. I mean, what if she was thinking about...whatever brilliant idea she was thinking about instead of...what we were doing? That can't be good, can it?'

Harry started laughing.

'What?'

'Never mind,' said Harry, shaking his head.

'No, tell me,' said Ron insistently. 'What did you--'

'Harry!'

Hermione's voice startled both boys and they turned round to see her standing there, with her hair completely wild and her eyes flashing. She was panting and looked as if she'd been sprinting through the corridors of the castle.

'What?' said Ron and Harry together.

She crossed over to them, glancing briefly at the third-years. They were looking at Hermione with interest, but when she gave them a hard look they all quickly turned their attention back to their homework.

'What?' said Harry.

'I solved them,' she said. 'I broke the codes.'

They entered Ron's room and Ron sealed the door shut behind them.

'Tell me,' said Harry at once, staring at Hermione as he sat down on Ron's desk chair, and Ron sat next on the bed.

'Okay,' said Hermione, taking a deep breath. Harry couldn't remember the last time she looked this thrilled about something; her brown eyes were sparkling and her hair was crackling with energy. For a brief moment, he suddenly understood why Ron was so taken with her. She did look pretty--beautiful, even--when she was in the throes of joy over some new discovery. It struck Harry as funny that he'd never seen it before, and he smiled in spite of himself.

'The reason it took so long is I was going about it all wrong,' Hermione said, and she began to pace as she spoke very fast. 'When you try to break down codes you have to look for patterns. It's like learning a whole different language, really. Only I was working the wrong way around, I figured the codes had to be really, really complex if your mum was doing some sort of secret work for the Ministry. So I picked out the most complex code configurations I could come up with and looked up all these different code types--Muggle and magic--and I kept trying to find a match, and it was so frustrating because I'd be looking at one of the coded messages and it would work up to a point, but then I'd hit some huge snag and have to start all over again. It never occurred to me that the codes might actually be a lot simpler, which is silly, of course, I mean, all I had to do was apply the principal of Occam's Razor--'

'The what razor?' said Harry.

'Hermione,' said Ron, holding up his hands, 'slow down, love, and speak English.'

'Right,' said Hermione. 'So, Occam's Razor...well, never mind about that. So then I started looking at simple codes, older codes. And remember how I said I was taking a break from looking at the codes, because I was overloading myself? Well, it wasn't really working for me, because even though I wasn't actively working on the codes, I couldn't stop thinking about them and it was driving me mad--that's why I've been in such a foul mood lately--well, that's not the only reason, that Hopkirk woman is--'

'Hermione,' said Harry and Ron together.

'Right,' she said, not missing a beat. 'So my strategy to not work on the codes wasn't working, because I kept thinking about it, except tonight when--'

She broke off for a moment, her cheeks going pink. 'When I came back here to...be alone with Ron and...and afterwards it just hit me like a ton of bricks. Julius Caesar.'

Ron and Harry stared at her, and then at each other, and back at her.

'What?' they both said finally.

'Julius Caesar!' said Hermione. 'The codes. They were invented by Julius Caesar.'

'Oh, I knew that,' said Ron, smirking at her fondly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and reached into her school bag. She pulled out a piece of parchment.

'That's not all of it,' she said. 'The codes have a magical protection on them that's really quite brilliant. As near as I can guess, the Concealment Charm on it has some kind of sensor that determines whether a person reading it has good or bad intentions. It took me some time to get past the charm, but when I did, the messages re-arranged themselves, only they were still in code.'

She shoved the piece of parchment at Harry.

'Look at that,' she said. 'Tell me what you see.'

Harry looked at her for a moment, and then at the parchment. He was completely baffled, and had no clue what he was supposed to be looking at. The parchment read:

T R A E O E _A_ _A_ P C

O K C R N L _N_ D A L

G R K E T E _G_ O M O

B E P D A V _U_ N G S

L S O C I E _E_ T E E

O U S E N L _N_ G T R

O L I L T S _L_ I T L

D T T L R O _A_ V I I

W S I S A F _M_ E N L

O B V C C _S_ _I_ U G Y

'I see letters,' said Harry. 'I don't...'

'Look again, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Look harder. Do you notice anything strange?'

'Yeah, the letters make no sense, they don't form words,' said Harry impatiently.

'No,' said Hermione. 'Look, count the letters on the first line from left to right.'

By now Ron was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at the parchment. Harry gave Hermione a confused look, but then began to count the letters across the top of the page.

'Ten,' he said.

'Count the next row,' Hermione said sharply, and Harry did.

'Ten again,' said Harry. 'So?'

'Now count the letters from top to bottom, starting on the left side,' said Hermione.

He counted the far-left letters in each row, going down in a column.

'Ten,' he said.

'A perfect square,' said Hermione. 'It's a perfect square cipher box. Caesar would write secret messages but they always had a perfect square number of letters in them: sixteen, twenty-five, sixty-four. This message has a hundred letters. Ten times ten.'

'Okay,' said Harry slowly, looking over the message. 'I see that, but I don't see a message that makes any sense.'

'That's because you're reading it from left to right,' said Hermione. 'Look at the letters again, top to bottom, starting at far left. Read downward.'

Harry and Ron both obeyed, Harry reading out loud.

'T, O, G, B, L, O, O, D, W, O...' said Harry, and he paused. 'Wait a minute.'

He read the letters down again.

'Read the next column,' said Hermione.

'R, K, R, E, S, U, L, T, S, B...' Harry's voice trailed. 'Holy shit.'

'You see it?' she said breathlessly.

Harry kept reading; his heart was pounding, and suddenly the message on the page became clear as day. He started to read aloud.

'"To G",' he read slowly. '"Bloodwork results back. Positive. Red cells contain trace levels of"...what--'

'_Sanguen__ lamia_,' said Hermione. 'I'll tell you what it means in a second. Go on.'

'"_Sanguen__ lamia_",' Harry repeated, continuing. 'Don't give up. Am getting closer.' He sat back in the chair and read the final word in the message, his stomach swooping. 'Lily.'

Ron looked completely flummoxed. 'What's it mean?' he asked.

Hermione was focused on Harry. 'Your mother wrote that message. The recipient of that message must have blood tests done; maybe your mum ran them. The test result shows that this person "G", or perhaps someone related to G...has vampire blood. _Sanguen_ _lamia_ is vampire blood.'

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione, and for a moment there was silence as she allowed the information to sink in.

'Why...' Harry said, struggling to speak, 'why would my mum be doing blood tests? Does that...have anything to do with Voldemort?'

'I don't know, Harry,' she said. 'But for whatever reason, your mum did some blood tests, and she's telling this person not to give up, that she's getting closer to something, though I don't know what it was.'

'Who's "G"?' said Harry.

'There is one possibility, assuming those test results were for G and not some relative or friend of G's,' said Hermione. 'Professor Griselda Hopkirk.'

This time the silence went on for a full minute.

'You think my mum was running blood tests on Hopkirk?'

'I don't know,' Hermione admitted. 'Look, I've only just had time to figure out the first two messages at the moment. Maybe when we go through the rest of them it'll turn out to be nothing, but...I have this feeling, Harry. About Hopkirk. And no, it's not because I can't stand her,' she added, when Ron opened his mouth to say something.

'What feeling?' Harry asked.

'Remember what Dumbledore said?' said Hermione. 'How he hired Hopkirk to help you? Why her, specifically? Surely there are other people as skilled in defense as she is. Surely Dumbledore could have found someone as good as she is.'

'I dunno,' said Harry. 'Hopkirk's scary as all hell, but she really knows her stuff.'

'But her methods, Harry,' said Hermione. 'I know the circumstances are...are really dangerous right now and rules have to be bent but still...'

She trailed off and began to pace again, fretfully.

'What's wrong, love?' Ron asked.

'I reported her,' said Hermione. 'Hopkirk, I mean. To Professor McGonagall.'

Harry and Ron sucked in their breaths.

'Hermione--' Ron began.

'Nothing happened,' said Hermione. 'Don't you see? Hopkirk threw a Killing Curse at Neville and nothing happened. When I told McGonagall about it she said she would speak to Hopkirk, but there was no way she could sack her or even suspend her. She said it was vital that Hopkirk stay. I tried to get her to tell me why, but she said it was none of my business. McGonagall _never _would have said that about just anyone.'

Hermione took a breath. 'I think Dumbledore hired her because she knew your mum. I think...your mum was working with Hopkirk on something. Something big. Something to defeat Voldemort, once and for all.'

Again, Harry gawped at Hermione; Ron's mouth was hanging open.

'You got all this,' said Harry, 'from one vague message my mum wrote to somebody she called "G"?'

'No,' said Hermione, and she picked up another piece of parchment. 'Look at this one.'

Harry did.

T U S E N L L E

O N S L C A E D

L A B L O R T E

T S L S N G E D

E U O D T E S G

S C O I A S T R

T C D E C C N I

R E C O T A E S

After a few minutes of reading, in which Harry's eyes began to hurt, he read the message aloud.

'"To L, test run success. Blood cells die on contact. Large scale test needed, Gris".'

'Short for Griselda?' said Hermione.

'Have you translated the rest of these?' Harry asked.

'Not yet,' she said tiredly. 'Just those two. And not all of them are the perfect square configuration, either. Some use the Caesar Shift alphabet--'

'The what?' said Ron.

'It's where D stands in for A, E for B...the letters shift three over,' said Hermione. 'So in a Caesar Shift alphabet, "FDW" actually spells "cat".'

'Wow,' said Ron, looking at her in awe. 'That's...you're amazing, Hermione.'

She smiled and said, 'Anyway, before we get to translating them all, I need to just go back and make sure which ones use the perfect square and which use the alphabet shift, and some might even use both, which is quite a headache. I could be wrong, of course. Maybe this "G" person isn't Hopkirk at all, or maybe "G" is Hopkirk but the blood test results are for a friend or relative of hers.'

'The codes,' said Harry. 'It's so simple. If it were really that secret why wouldn't my mum use something more complex?'

'They're Muggle codes, Harry,' said Hermione. 'And don't forget the Concealment spell on them. Your mum must have figured it was a safe system to use; who would suspect a Muggle code?'

Harry looked up at her; he felt like his brain was alternately frozen and burning up.

'How soon?' he asked. 'I mean...don't kill yourself, but...how soon can you figure out...what's what?'

'Middle of the week, next week,' she said. 'We've got the weekend off, Ron and me, I mean, so no patrols tomorrow night. Although...there's Hogsmeade tomorrow.'

'Don't skip that,' said Harry. 'I'm sorry, I must sound really demanding or something.'

'It's okay,' said Hermione.

'I guess...we shouldn't say anything to Hopkirk or anyone else until we know for sure what's what,' said Harry. 'If it's true she has vampire blood--'

'If there's only trace amounts in her red cell count,' said Hermione, 'that could account for the vampire-like traits she has, but still explain why she's able to eat food and go outside during the day. I saw her walking across the grounds to the greenhouses the other day and she wasn't bothered too much by the sun.'

'But that doesn't explain all of it?' said Ron. 'All of...her?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione. 'I'd put researching her off because I didn't think it had any bearing, but now...I'm definitely going back to that.'

'Later,' said Harry firmly. 'I mean it, Hermione. Don't kill yourself. Ron's right, you need to take care of yourself.'

She nodded sheepishly. 'I do feel better now, since I solved those codes, anyway.'

Harry smirked. 'Is that the only reason?'

'Harry,' Ron groaned.

'No,' said Hermione, lifting her chin, and suddenly she crossed to Ron and sat down in his lap. She put her arms round his neck and when she spoke her voice was as prim as Professor McGonagall's. 'As a matter of fact, I've come to realize that shagging greatly improves my mental focus. I've been thinking we have to shag more often, Ron. Perhaps we should go back to the schedule we were keeping our first week back.'

Ron made a sound halfway between a choked cough and a laugh.

'Okay,' he said, trying very hard not to look delighted by the prospect.

'That is, if it won't interfere with your Seer training,' said Hermione.

'No,' said Ron at once.

Harry snorted. He wasn't surprised that Hermione would find some intellectual benefit to having sex, but then this just further proved Harry's theory--long forgotten until now--that girls were different from blokes in the sex department. He remembered when he and Susan were together, how he would struggle not to fall asleep afterwards, and she would be alert and awake.

_Well, there's a first. You just thought about Susan without feeling like your guts were twisting inside. Almost feeling...nothing. Progress..._

Hermione gave Ron a quick peck on the lips and a smile to Harry before she walked, with great dignity, out of Ron's room.

'You okay, Ron?' said Harry.

He turned to Harry. 'My girlfriend wants to shag me more often because it helps her to think better,' said Ron. 'I dunno whether to be thrilled or feel used.'

He paused, and he and Harry exchanged a long look.

'Thrilled,' they both said.

**A/N: The codes used for this chapter do in fact exist, and were indeed invented by Julius Caesar. I got the idea for using these types of codes from reading the novel _Digital Fortress_, by Dan Brown.**

**Occam's**** Razor**** is also a real principle. It basically states that one should not make more assumptions than the minimum needed. In other words, the simplest answer is often the right answer.**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven: Andromeda Tonks

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Andromeda Tonks 

Ron's excitement at going to Hogsmeade for the first time this term was tempered greatly by his Head Boy duties.

For one thing, he had hoped to sleep in a bit this morning; he and Hermione had engaged in some rather prolonged shagging the night before, and it had worn him out. Hermione had crept out of his room just before dawn, or at least he thought that was when she'd left. He'd been so completely asleep that he hadn't heard her leave.

But at half past seven, there came a pounding on his door.

'Ron!' Hermione called. 'Wake up!'

Ron groaned and opened his eyes. He'd been having a nice dream about flying on a Firebolt.

_If she's waking me up this early it had better be for another shag. Although I don't know if I even have the energy._

He crawled out of bed--not bothering to put on a dressing gown--and opened the door.

'Hermione, it's Saturday,' Ron grumbled.

'Yes, and it's Hogsmeade day and you're Head Boy,' said Hermione briskly, shoving past Ron and entering his room. 'You have responsibilities, remember?'

Ron grimaced. 'I do now,' he said.

She gave him a look and ruffled his hair, which was already standing on end.

'It's not that bad,' she said. 'But hurry and get ready. We need to meet with the prefects in an hour to go over a few things.'

'I have to meditate,' he said, a bit grumpily. 'And write down my dreams.'

'So, get going,' said Hermione. 'I'll meet you down in the Great Hall, we'll eat breakfast and then meet the prefects in the Transfiguration classroom.'

'Yes, sir,' said Ron, giving Hermione a flourishing salute.

'Ha ha,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes, but she leaned up and brushed his lips with her own. 'Cheeky git,' she said, smiling.

He grinned and pulled her close, his hands on her waist, and kissed her properly.

'Ron, you have morning breath,' Hermione said, after they came up for air.

'Like you care,' said Ron, kissing her again. Judging by the way she pressed up against him and threaded her hands into his messy hair, she didn't.

'I don't,' she managed, after a few minutes, but when he moved to kiss her a third time, she put a hand against his chest and pushed him away.

'No,' she said, giggling. 'Go take a shower and get dressed.'

'I love it when you boss me around,' said Ron, giving her his trademark lopsided grin.

'Ron...' she said warningly.

'Care to join me?' he asked. 'You could scrub my back.'

'No!' said Hermione, laughing. 'Now get going!'

Ron showered quickly, shaved carelessly (nicking his chin again), and dressed in a hurry. He quickly scrawled down the memories of his few dreams in his dream journal, chastising himself for not having written them down the moment Hermione left his room. The most he could recall was the dream about flying on the Firebolt, and seeing Gryffindor's sword again.

He then sat down to meditate; he checked his watch and realized he was cutting it fine; he'd meant to light a magical fire and burn some of the herbs Firenze had given him, but there was no time. He made a mental note to use the fire during his evening meditation before closing his eyes and relaxing his mind.

The visions came again: two men--Muggles, by the look of them--fighting outside a pub somewhere. A man and a woman--also Muggles--standing by a strange looking plastic container that had inside it a tiny baby, too tiny to be real. The baby was pink and appeared to be hooked up to a series of strange machines, and the couple--who must be the baby's parents, watched over the infant with worried expressions on their faces. A boy, holding the limp form of a large dog in his lap; the boy was crying and the dog appeared to be dead.

After fifteen minutes, Ron quit; the meditations weren't as exhausting as they had been in the beginning of his training, but they still tired him out. His usual routine of late was to spend a good hour in the mornings meditating, with breaks in between, but upon checking his watch again, he realized he couldn't get away with his usual routine this morning. He grimaced and told himself he'd have to make it up tonight.

He met Hermione in the Great Hall for breakfast; she was already sitting down and chatting with Ginny, who looked tired, but satisfied about something.

'It's been going really well,' Ginny was saying, in a low voice. 'I like Mrs. Tonks a lot, even if she does work me hard. The problem is now I have to find a guinea pig.'

'A what?' Ron asked, taking a seat next to Hermione and pouring himself a large mug of coffee.

'Guinea pig,' said Hermione. 'Test subject.'

'Harry volunteered,' said Ginny, blushing slightly.

'Harry?' said Ron and Hermione together.

'Yes,' said Ginny, her cheeks going pinker. 'I mean, he knows about me and he's trustworthy but...I said no. And Mrs. Tonks agreed with me. He's got enough to deal with.'

'I'll say,' said Ron. 'Where is he, anyway?'

'He's got his date with Parvati,' said Ginny, and she scowled slightly. 'Probably spiffing himself up for that.'

'Right,' said Ron, grinning. 'That ought to be interesting.'

Ginny said nothing, but began to cut into her bacon a bit viciously.

The meeting with the prefects took all of five minutes; Hermione handed out lists of students' names attending the Hogsmeade outing; the lists were broken down by houses. It was, she said, the prefects' responsibility to keep track of their housemates at various points during the day, and to report to her and to Ron at the end of the day to confirm that all their housemates were accounted for.

Ron noticed right away, as he and Hermione watched the students file out past Mr. Filch, that security was tighter. Aurors were patrolling outside the gates of Hogsmeade and, no doubt, within the village as well. All the students were required to carry their wands, not that Ron needed to be told to do this. He never went anywhere without his wand these days; it was too dangerous to do otherwise.

Finally, Harry--whom Ron hadn't seen all morning--passed by, and next to him was Parvati. They weren't talking much, Ron noticed, just exchanging awkward glances and smiling. Now and again Parvati would touch Harry on the arm flirtatiously and toss her long black hair, which she'd worn loose today instead of in her usual thick plait.

Ginny passed by soon after, with Colin Creevey. They spent a fair amount of time together, Ron noticed, but then, they had struck up a close friendship last year. Ron could hardly disapprove. Colin was a bit...energetic but Ginny always seemed to have a good time around him, and Colin treated her with respect. That, in the end, was all that mattered.

Ron hadn't really planned on doing anything in particular in Hogsmeade that day, so he allowed Hermione to take over. They had lunch at The Three Broomsticks with Ginny and Colin. Ginny then announced she and Colin were going to Honeydukes; Ron wanted to go as well--he needed a new supply of Chocolate Frogs--but Hermione said they needed to pick out costumes for the Halloween.

'Costumes?' Ron said, horrified. 'I'm not wearing a costume!'

'Ron, it's going to be a costume ball!' said Hermione. 'Remember? We discussed this at the prefects' meeting last week. We even picked out a theme, "Historical Figures in Muggle and Magical British History"--'

'I was there, I remember!' said Ron. 'I didn't think that meant _I'd_ have to dress up!'

'Well, of course you have to dress up!' said Hermione irritably. 'You're Head Boy, you can't show up at a Halloween ball without a costume!'

'Hermione!' Ron whined.

'Ron!' Hermione shot back, imitating his tone of voice.

'Can't I just wear my Cannons stuff?' he asked petulantly, as Hermione took his hand and started to lead him down a narrow, shop-lined road just off the High Street.

'No,' said Hermione. 'You have to dress as a historical figure, Ron.'

'The Cannons are a historical team,' said Ron grumpily.

'For what, losing?' said Hermione.

'Ouch,' said Ron. 'That hurts, 'Mione.'

'Look,' said Hermione, as they came to a stop in front of Prewitt's Party Wear for Festive Occasions, 'just leave it to me. I've already picked out our costumes.'

'You have?' said Ron.

'I thought it would be fun to go as a famous couple,' she said, beaming.

'Really?' he said doubtfully. 'Look, can't you just go as a Shakespoo character—'

'Shake_speare_, Ron!'

'--and I'll just go in my Quidditch uniform, or something? I can pretend to be a famous Quidditch player. Or how about a chess piece? Yeah, you could be a queen and me a king or a knight--'

'Ron,' said Hermione, and her voice became decidedly pleading. 'Please, just do this with me? It'll be fun.'

She was gazing up at him with big brown eyes and smiling hopefully.

_Bloody hell.___

She didn't give him that look very often, but she knew it wore him down every time.

'Okay, fine,' Ron relented. 'But I'm not wearing tights.'

'Ron, for heaven's sake,' Hermione snapped, 'don't be such a baby. It's not like you're wearing tights!'

'No, I'm wearing a skirt, that's even better!' Ron retorted sarcastically, staring at himself in horror in the mirror.

A skirt. A bloody _skirt_. And some weird jacket with a sash and baubles and a ridiculous hat, and white socks that came to his knees, with dark blue tassels, and black shoes that were a size too small. What was Hermione thinking?

_I look like an idiot! _

Mrs. Prewitt, the owner, was kneeling behind Ron and said nothing as she took some measurements and began to pin things into place; her lips, however, were curled into a smile.

'It's a kilt, Ron,' Hermione said, 'and you look dashing in it.'

'Oh, yeah, right,' said Ron. 'This is horrible, Hermione. I mean, you're brilliant in most respects but this--'

'Ron, trust me,' said Hermione insistently. 'You're dressing up as Lord Bothwell. He was as manly a Scot as they came, big and strong--'

'And who is this Lord Buttwell?'

'Bothwell,' Hermione corrected, rolling her eyes. 'Honestly. You're wearing the costume of a Scots nobleman. It's very regal--'

'And it's a skirt,' Ron croaked. 'And this hat...my god. Do you have any idea how humiliating it'll be for me to show up at the ball in this get-up? When the Slytherins see me in this it'll make my fifth year Quidditch stuff look like a bloody picnic.'

'Ron, don't swear,' Hermione said, sounding irritated. Just then, two fifth year Hufflepuffs entered the shop.

'Be with you in a moment, dears!' Mrs. Prewitt behind Ron called.

Ron wanted to dive under the pile of cloaks in the nearby corner as the two girls stared at him.

'They're looking at me,' he hissed to Hermione. 'They're going to start laughing. You watch.'

And the two girls did, only it wasn't the sort of laughing Ron was expecting. They were pointing at him, (and) giggling and blushing, and Ron was certain he wasn't hearing things properly when one of the girls whispered, 'He looks dreamy, doesn't he?'

'They're barmy,' said Ron petulantly, but he kept his voice down. 'I look foolish.'

'Trust me, dear,' said Mrs. Prewitt, as she got up from pinning the hem of the kilt. 'The girls go mad seeing young men in kilts. Especially tall, strapping ones like you.' She patted him on the cheek and bustled over to the two Hufflepuff girls, who were gazing in admiration at Ron in between bursts of giggles. In the next moment, two more fifth year Hufflepuff girls entered the shop, saw Ron, and joined their friends in fits of giggles. He swore he overheard one of them sigh and say, 'Hermione Granger is _so_ lucky.'

'See?' said Hermione smugly. Ron's ears were so red he wondered if they might explode. This was almost as bad as being caught in the nude by Moaning Myrtle.

_Okay, not quite as bad as that. But still..._

'Hermione,' he begged.

She gave him a look. It was her I'm Not Backing Down look. He sighed in frustration.

'Fine,' he said. 'But you owe me one.'

'Okay,' said Hermione, shrugging, but she gave him that smile of hers that told Ron exactly what sort of remuneration she had in mind, and of course, it was the kind he'd like best.

_Bribing me with sex.__ Honestly. _

_Like that's a bad thing?_

_No._

Ron smirked and looked at his reflection in the mirror, trying to find a positive way to spin his appearance.

_Well, at least my legs aren't too skinny anymore. And the colors don't clash with my hair. And I suppose the jacket thing makes my shoulders look a bit broader. It fits okay, I guess. And..._

_Fuck. Harry's going to take the mickey out of me like there's no tomorrow._

_And the Slytherins...___

'I mean it, Hermione,' said Ron. 'You owe me, big time. Don't tell Harry I let you talk me into this. And I'm not wearing this hat,'--he yanked the hat off his head--'and don't you even think about making me carry bagpipes.'

'So Bothwell and Mary were having an affair, and Bothwell arranged to have Mary's husband murdered, only the Scottish nobles didn't like that so they rebelled, and Mary's armies surrendered to the rebels in exchange for letting Bothwell get away, and then Mary wound up being taken prisoner by her cousin Elizabeth and eventually got beheaded, and Bothwell ended up in a Danish prison and went nutters and died?'

'That's the gist of it,' said Hermione cheerfully, carrying her costume over her arm. Ron was carrying his costume as well; it was packaged within a dark leather garment bag. He planned to shove the offending clothing deep within the recesses of his closet. Maybe Hermione would forget about the ball. Maybe he could get conveniently sick on the night of the ball. Maybe Hermione would relent and let him wear his Cannons t-shirt.

_Maybe hell will freeze over._

'And you want us to dress up as these people?' said Ron. 'That's morbid, Hermione.'

'It's tragically romantic,' Hermione corrected. 'Mary basically gave up her kingdom for Bothwell.'

'And her head,' said Ron, shaking his own.

Ron and Hermione returned to Hogwarts ahead of the rest of the students, at Hermione's insistence; she wanted her and Ron to be there, in order to do a headcount of all the students as they came back. Ron tossed his costume into his closet with a scowl and made a mental note to ask Hermione to perform a Memory Charm on him after the ball was over.

Ron and Hermione took up positions on either side of Mr. Filch, who scowled at them. Not five minutes later, students began to trickle back, with Aurors flanking them here and there. The prefects looked slightly harried, but Hermione began to check off every student as they came back with her usual efficiency. Ron looked down his own list and began checking off names; Hermione gave him a scolding look each time he stopped a student to ask what his or her name was. He knew she had a point, and he made another mental note to learn every student's name over the course of the next week.

Ron's attention was drawn away from his checklist when he saw Harry enter the entrance hall. The black-haired boy's face was pale and his eyes were slightly dazed and wide.

'Harry?' said Ron. 'Are you okay?'

'I'll tell you later,' he croaked, and he hurried past without another word. It was only then that Ron noticed Parvati wasn't with him. She turned up a few minutes later, however, with swollen, reddened eyes.

_Uh oh..._

'Hi, Parvati,' said Hermione cheerfully, hardly even looking up from her list as she checked off Parvati's name.

Parvati made an ugly snort that dissolved into tears; she gave a sob, then threw a furious look at Ron, and ran off.

Ron and Hermione looked at one another and shrugged.

Ron and Hermione returned to the common room in search of Harry, and they found him in the corner, pacing back and forth.

'Harry?' said Hermione tentatively.

He whirled round, not having seen them enter, and strode right up to Ron.

'I need to talk to you,' he said. 'Now.'

'Of course,' said Hermione, 'sit down--'

'I mean, just Ron,' said Harry.

'Oh,' said Hermione, looking disappointed and a little hurt.

Ron bit his lip. 'Are you sure--can't Hermione--'

'Guy stuff,' said Harry insistently, and he looked pleadingly at Hermione. 'I'm sorry.'

Hermione sighed and nodded. 'All right, I understand.'

'Are you sure?' Ron and Harry both asked.

'Go on,' said Hermione, smiling and shaking her head. 'Go talk boy things.'

Ron and Harry entered Ron's room; Harry strode over to the desk, sat down in Ron's chair, got up, paced, sat down again, got up and paced once more.

'Harry, you're making me dizzy,' said Ron, sitting down on his unmade bed. 'What's up?'

'Parvati,' said Harry.

'Yeah,' said Ron slowly. 'I saw her when she came back. She...well, she didn't look too happy.'

'It's not my fault!' Harry yelled desperately, and he got up and started pacing again, and babbling. 'I didn't know...I thought we were just going to have a nice afternoon! We went to Honeydukes and Zonko's and everything was fine and then she said she wanted to get a coffee and I said "why not the Three Broomsticks?" and she said she liked that stupid Puddifoot's place and it all went downhill from there--'

'Madam Puddifoot's?' said Ron. 'Why didn't you tell her no?'

'I don't know!' said Harry. 'I haven't been on date in ages, I don't remember how this stuff works!'

'Harry, you went on a date with Daphne a few weeks ago,' Ron said.

'So?' said Harry. 'That was different, we stayed on the grounds and we were totally alone.'

'Right,' said Ron, trying not to chuckle. 'So, Madam Puddifoot's?'

'Yeah,' said Harry miserably. He sat down heavily in Ron's chair. 'I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell her why we shouldn't go there but...but then I remembered reading somewhere--or maybe Hermione told me--that you're not supposed to talk about exes when you're on a first date. Not that Cho really counts as a true ex or anything. So I went along with Parvati and...Merlin, that place is ridiculous, all those fat cherubs and the confetti--in the shape of jack'o'lanterns, no less. And the damn coffee isn't even that good!'

'What happened, Harry?' Ron asked.

'She came on to me,' said Harry. 'Parvati. Started...playing footsie with me right there in the tea shoppe. And I mean real footsie. She took her damn shoe off and everything and...oh god.'

He buried his face in his hands.

'Did she, er...you know?' Ron asked.

'Yes!' said Harry, his head snapping up. 'In the damn tea shoppe, Ron! What was she thinking?'

'This is just a guess,' said Ron, 'but probably she wanted to turn you on a bit.'

'Well, it worked!' said Harry. 'There I am in the tackiest tea shoppe in the United Kingdom about to split my fucking trousers open.'

'Did you tell her to stop?' Ron asked.

'Yes!' said Harry. 'Only she got all offended and left. I chased after her--with my hands in front of my crotch, thank you very much-- and told her I was sorry and I think I said something pathetic like...like I don't do public displays of affection.'

'Did that work?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I mean, she said she understood and she apologized for being so forward, and I said I didn't mind that so much, just not in a public place. _That_ was a mistake.'

'Why?' Ron asked.

'Well, then she said she wanted to be alone with me somewhere,' said Harry. 'And...okay, I was fine with that. I mean, a snog with Parvati should be fun right?'

'I wouldn't know,' said Ron, shrugging.

'Well, I thought it would be,' said Harry. 'So she starts to lead me off somewhere and we turn this corner and I recognize this little alleyway that leads to this old abandoned building.'

'Sounds romantic,' said Ron, screwing up his face.

'Oh, it was,' said Harry. 'It was the place I first kissed Susan.'

Ron gave a low whistle.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Well, there I was again with the whole bloody ex dilemma. I mean, Susan is a real ex, and surely Parvati doesn't want to snog me in a place that has...connotations for me and my ex, right?'

'I would imagine not,' said Ron.

'Only what if Parvati got offended by me talking about my ex?' said Harry, getting up and pacing again. 'I decided I should say something anyway because I really didn't fancy ending up snogging in that place. Only I didn't get a chance because the minute we got inside Parvati jumped me.'

'Whoa,' said Ron.

'You could say that,' said Harry. 'She was all over me, she was _climbing_ me, Ron. I don't think I could have stopped her if I wanted to!'

'And that was bad?'

'No,' Harry admitted. 'I mean...I'm not used to a girl being so assertive on the first date but...but--'

'Once you got into it you figured what the hell,' Ron said, smirking.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'And it was really good. I mean, I was having a really good time, you know, and then...then she conjures up this sofa and we're going at it there and it's getting hot--'

'How hot?'

'Clothes coming off hot,' said Harry.

'Blimey,' said Ron. 'She works fast.'

He allowed his thoughts to stray just slightly to the fact that Harry--normally so close-lipped about his sex life--was being quite unusually open with the details of his date.

'You're telling me!' said Harry. 'One minute we're standing up having a nice snog and the next minute she's got me on my back on the sofa and my trousers are undone. I didn't even see her take her clothes off--'

'She got naked?' said Ron, his eyes widening to almost saucer proportions.

'Almost!' said Harry, and he swallowed hard. 'Down to her underwear. And _fuck._ Her _underwear_, Ron.' He paused and took a deep breath, and then continued. 'She was wearing these little--and I mean _little_--black lacy things...Jesus, Ron, black lace ought to be illegal, is all I'm saying.'

'Black lace?' said Ron. 'Really?'

'And she looked really, _really_ good,' said Harry, and now he looked like he wanted to cry. 'A matched set, Ron. Bra _and_ knickers!'

'Hermione doesn't wear black lace,' Ron grumbled. 'She wears lace, but not _black_ lace--'

'Ron! Focus!' said Harry.

'Sorry,' said Ron. 'So...you had sex on the first date and that's bad because...?'

'I didn't!' said Harry.

'You didn't have sex,' said Ron.

'No,' said Harry, and he got up and started pacing again. He looked like he was struggling to speak all of a sudden, and it was a good half minute before he finally blurted, 'I couldn't do it.'

'You couldn't do it?' said Ron, confused.

Harry's knees suddenly seemed to give out on him and he sank into Ron's chair again.

'I couldn't _do_ it,' he said again.

'Oh,' said Ron. 'You mean you...couldn't...get it up?'

'No!' said Harry. 'I mean yes...no. Shit. It was up, okay? It was most definitely up. That's not what I meant.'

'What did you mean?' Ron asked.

Harry groaned. 'I mean...we were right there, Ron. I was totally ready to do it and then she took off her knickers--'

'She took off her knickers?' Ron breathed.

Harry screwed up his face and moaned miserably. 'Yes,' he whimpered. 'She did the Contraceptive Charm and everything! Two more seconds and it would have happened, Ron, only...I freaked. Something just snapped inside my head and next thing I was pushing her off me and running out of there. I left her alone in that building with almost no clothes on! What was I thinking?'

Ron winced.

Harry got up and began to pace again. Now he was ranting.

'I'm seventeen, I'm a bloke, I haven't gotten laid in months, Ron, I should be ready to bang the next decent looking girl who offers and this was Parvati Bloody Patil, okay, the most gorgeous girl in our damn house, if not the whole school, and I just...couldn't...do it! What kind of a man am I? What sort of prat runs away from a gorgeous naked girl who's offering sex? It was pathetic. I'm pathetic! And now Parvati is probably really offended and you can bet she's telling Lavender what a complete berk I am--'

'Harry, calm down,' said Ron, putting a hand on Harry's arm.

'Calm down?' said Harry. 'I dunno how I'm going to look at Parvati again. And think about this, mate. She's a Chaser on the house team. I'm the team captain. I'm supposed to tell her what to do when she's flying, after I abandoned her like that? This could really fuck up our Quidditch, and there's the worst of it.'

_Shit, I hadn't thought of that, _Ron thought.

'Did you see her?' Harry asked. 'Parvati, I mean? Was she upset, was she crying?'

'No,' Ron lied.

'How am I going to face her?' said Harry. 'She hates me, I know she does.'

'You're going to have to at some point, it's a bit unavoidable,' said Ron. 'Look, Harry, there's nothing wrong with you.'

'Oh, yeah,' said Harry. 'Nothing. I only turned down sex with a beautiful girl.'

'I would have done the same thing,' said Ron. 'Well, maybe not the running away and leaving her alone and naked part.'

'Brilliant, Ron,' said Harry. 'Just one thing. You're going out with Hermione. I don't have a girlfriend. Nothing's stopping me from getting lucky with a random girl if I want to.'

'Maybe you don't want to, then,' said Ron. 'And for your information, I wouldn't have done it even if I weren't with Hermione.'

Harry started to protest but then he stopped and looked at Ron with surprise.

'Really?' he said.

'Really,' said Ron, and his ears went pink. 'Laugh if you want, I just...I don't get why blokes think it's cool to go boffing everything in a skirt. There should be more to it than that.' He paused and felt a little embarrassed, and looked down at his shoes. 'Shouldn't there?'

Harry looked at him for a long moment, and then let out a breath. 'Yeah, there should,' he said.

'So there you go,' said Ron. 'You're not cut out for casual sex. You don't love Parvati, that's why you couldn't do it.'

Harry nodded slowly. 'I still left her alone and naked in an abandoned building,' he said.

'Yeah, that's pretty bad,' said Ron. 'You'd better apologize.'

'And tell her what?' said Harry. '"Gee, sorry, Parvati, but the reason I couldn't shag you is because I'm not in love with you"?'

'That sounds about right,' said Ron. 'Well, maybe you could grovel a bit or something. Look, Harry, it wasn't cool to run away like that but in the end...you did both of you a favor. I'm sure if you explain it to her she'll understand.'

'You think so?' said Harry, seizing on this idea.

'Yeah,' said Ron.

'I hope you're right,' said Harry.

'I'm right every now and again,' said Ron, grinning.

'Yeah, well, if you have a vision of Parvati castrating me, you'll give me due warning?'

'I'll fly you out of the country myself,' said Ron.

It was a moment before the two of them started to laugh.

By the time Quidditch practice came about on Tuesday evening, Harry hadn't managed to work things out with Parvati, and the practice was quite tense as a result. Nonetheless, it went off quite well and Parvati seemed to have settled for giving Harry murderous looks when he wasn't looking, which meant that Parvati's face was drawn into a scowl the whole time, as Harry refused to make eye contact with her. Ron was amazed the two of them managed to put aside their awkwardness and attend to the business of flying at all.

He hadn't said a word to Hermione about his conversation with Harry. Ron knew Hermione was curious, but she had the grace not to ask.

Monday's and Tuesdays lessons brought no more than the usual complications; they worked on Glamours in Transfiguration--this time spells to make themselves appear as small children. Crabbe and Goyle were unable to change back into their normal selves and were sent to the hospital wing and given extra homework. In Defense they did another lesson on repelling the Imperius Curse; Hopkirk also had them train to duck out of the way of hexes and curses.

'It might seem obvious, ducking out of the way,' she said, 'but there is a practical purpose for learning how to do it in an effective way, apart from the obvious of avoiding an unfriendly spell. If you find yourself without a wand, in particular, learning how to train your body to dodge curses can save your life.'

The second half of the lesson, then, was spent doing elaborate jumps, dives and rolls that left the class exhausted, sweaty, and with plenty of bruised kneecaps to go around. Her homework assignment involved no reading but plenty of practice on defensive moves.

'It's cool, though,' said Dean. 'It's like how they train special forces in the military.'

In Charms they had moved on to Advanced Animation Spells, making coffee tables grow extra legs and walk across the room. In History of Magic, Binns droned on about the first centaur revolts. Or at least that's what Ron thought; he fell asleep halfway through the lecture. Potions had them working on the Draught of Living Death. The potion formula was so exacting that if it were off even the slightest bit, it would cause actual death.

'Unfortunately, we cannot test students' potions on students,' Snape sneered, glowering at Neville, and then at Harry.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout announced they would be helping Professor Grubbly-Plank with the Spiketails, by putting together special kinds of feed for the dragons that included highly toxic and flammable herbs and leaves.

Wednesday came and at last, the Spiketails hatched. Grubbly-Plank was so beside herself she almost reminded Ron of Hagrid, but thinking of Hagrid wasn't pleasant, as they'd heard nothing of what he was doing (repeated attempts to ask McGonagall were met with the same response every time: 'Order business. That's all I can tell you.').

'Gather round, class!' Grubbly-Plank called, obviously pleased. 'Our first egg is about to hatch. Miss Brown, this is your egg, yes?'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Lavender, beaming. The whole class was gathered in a circle round Lavender's nest, which was carefully constructed. The class jumped as one when the little egg suddenly burst into flame and a tiny dragon with blue-green, opalescent scales flopped out into the nest. It was no bigger than Ron's thumb and actually very cute; all the girls sighed appreciatively.

'Lovely, isn't he?' said Grubbly-Plank. 'Or...actually, I believe that's a female. Now stand back, everyone, I just need to clear its airway.'

Grubbly-Plank took the tiny dragon in hand and dabbed a cotton swab at its mouth. The little dragon gave a smoky cough and began to bawl.

'Quick!' said Grubbly-Plank, gesturing to Lavender. 'The eucalyptus leaves!'

Lavender gave a squeak and picked up two eucalyptus leaves.

'Now, Miss Brown, are you ready to take her?' said Grubbly-Plank.

'Yes,' said Lavender.

'Handle her gently,' said Grubbly-Plank. 'Thumb and forefinger...'

She handed the tiny dragon to Lavender, who took it gingerly in her fingers.

'Good,' said Grubbly-Plank. 'Now, wrap her gently in the leaves. Don't squeeze!'

Lavender nodded and placed the tiny, crying dragon on the palm of her hand, in which the leaves rested, and then proceeded to wrap the leaves round the small creature.

Almost at once the dragon stopped crying, (and) gave a contented sigh, and fell asleep.

'Aw,' came another sigh from the other girls in the class.

'Very good, Miss Brown,' said Grubbly-Plank. 'Dragons are cold-blooded creatures, you see, and this little one doesn't have a mother's warm body to curl up next to. The cold air doesn't feel very nice to them. Now, put your dragon in the nest there, Miss Brown. Looks like there's another egg ready to go. Ah, Mr. Finch-Fletchley...'

The lesson ended with every egg hatched and every dragon safely tucked into the nests, wrapped in leaves. Ron, Harry and Hermione left the lesson in silence; Ron knew they were all in agreement--it had been a fine lesson. But even saying so still felt like a betrayal of Hagrid, somehow. Even Hermione kept quiet. Harry, at least, had managed to avoid standing too close to Susan Bones, although it looked like he might be getting past their break-up.

That night was the second D.A. meeting, and to everyone's surprise, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott both showed up, at the same time, accompanied by Aurors. Ron had nearly forgotten about Malfoy, who'd been absent from some lessons and who, according to Hermione, had spent every free moment of his time in detention.

But now he was back, and looking cold and smug as always. He exchanged a glanced with Nott, and the look was full of contempt, but if Ron had to guess, the two boys wouldn't be fighting one another anymore. At least, not for a while. Each had taken their pound of flesh from the other, and for the time being, Ron surmised, there wouldn't be any more in-house fighting within Slytherin.

The night's meeting was split into two parts: throwing off the Imperius Curse, and dueling. The first half necessitated the involvement of Aurors, as students were not allowed the throw the Imperius Curse on one another, and Hopkirk wanted as many students as possible to practice repelling the curse. None of the Aurors looked too keen to cast an Unforgivable on a student, but they obeyed Hopkirk all the same.

Ron was able to throw his off eventually, but it had taken him three tries. Thankfully the Auror hadn't asked him to do anything more embarrassing than sit down, but he knew he'd have to work harder to repel the curse in a setting that wasn't controlled, as the D.A. meeting was.

The second half went into dueling. People began to pair up, but Hopkirk called on them to stop.

'I think it's time for to mix things up a bit,' she said. 'In the spirit of interhouse unity.'

She began pairing people up.

'Miss MacDougal, you'll pair with Mr. Smith,' she said. 'Mr. Finch-Fletchley, you and Miss Lovegood...'

It wasn't a problem until Hopkirk came to the Slytherins.

'Nott,' she snapped. 'Pair up with Mr. Weasley. Crabbe, you're with Mr. Goldstein. Parkinson, you'll pair with Mr. Boot. Miss Greengrass...you're with Miss Turpin. Bulstrode, you're with Granger. Zabini...pair up with Miss Brocklehurst. Goyle...why don't you pair up with Mr. Longbottom here. And...Malfoy. You'll be Miss Weasley's partner.'

For a moment nobody said a word, but then Draco Malfoy fixed his eyes on Ginny and smiled smugly.

'No,' said Ron. 'Not Malfoy, not with Ginny.'

'Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?' said Hopkirk.

'Ron...' Ginny hissed.

'Professor, let me duel Malfoy,' said Harry, who'd been paired with Michael Corner; Michael hung back, looking uncertain.

'He can't be paired with Ginny,' Ron insisted.

'Can't he?' said Hopkirk. 'Miss Weasley, do you have a problem being Mr. Malfoy's partner?'

'No,' said Ginny, glaring at Ron and speaking through gritted teeth.

'Ginny...' Ron said, giving her a pleading look, but she shook her head.

'There, you see,' said Hopkirk. 'No problems. In case any of you were wondering, I've decided that part of the reason some of you have not gotten your skills up to par is because you're pairing with friends, and that's making you soft.'

She gave Ron a curt, cold smile that radiated down his spine like ice water and strode up to the daïs.

'Tonight in your dueling you will be restricted to simple, non-injurious curses: the Leg Locker, the Falling Jinx, the Trip Jinx, Jelly-Legs, and the Total Body Bind,' she announced. 'The reason I am restricting to these relatively harmless curses is that you will not be defending yourselves with wands, but with the body movements we practiced in our last lesson, and which I am quite sure you have practiced in your spare time as well.'

'Not really,' Ron muttered, because he'd been busy with other assignments, Quidditch practice, and patrols.

'So, one partner will be the spell caster,' said Hopkirk. 'The other will be the victim. Although if you've been practicing you won't really be a victim of anything.'

'I'll be the spell caster first,' said Ron at once.

'Fine,' said Nott, and he didn't look the slightest bit concerned about this.

_Not bad for a guy who got the crap hexed out of him only a week ago,_ Ron thought grudgingly. He grimaced as he glanced over at Ginny, who was standing wandless across from Malfoy; Malfoy looked entirely too smug, and Ron wondered whether, when things started up, he could get away with throwing a curse at him without Hopkirk seeing.

'On the count of three,' said Hopkirk, 'begin. One, two...three.'

Malfoy was forgotten when the room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of shouts and the rush of movement. Ron threw a Leg Locker Curse at Nott, and he leapt lightly out of the way; Ron then threw three Falling Jinxes. Nott jumped, then rolled, then scrambled out of the way of the spells. It was several minutes before Ron managed to catch Nott with a Jelly Legs Jinx. He lifted the jinx only long enough to let Nott catch his breath, and then started in again. By the end, Nott got hit with only one more spell--a Total Body Bind--and he was sweaty and breathing heavily.

It went on for fifteen minutes, and then Hopkirk ordered everyone to stop and switch sides. Ron swallowed. He hoped he could keep out of the way of Nott's curses, and he vowed to pound Malfoy to dust if he hurt Ginny.

Hopkirk had barely finished counting when Nott threw a Total Body Bind at Ron; Ron ducked and rolled out of the way, but he wasn't sure how fast he could keep going; his height and long limbs made quick movements more difficult.

Nott, however, was relentless. Clearly the Slytherin didn't care that Ron had extended him a bit of courtesy and waited for him to catch his breath; Nott was giving Ron no quarter. He caught a Trip Jinx about five minutes in, and fell hard on his backside, but even there, Nott didn't ease up, and Ron found himself scrambling out of the way of another Total Body Bind. It was exhausting work, and by the end of it, Ron was covered in sweat and had been hit by five of Nott's spells.

'Excellent work, Mr. Nott,' said Hopkirk, as she strode gracefully past. 'Weasley, get your body movements in order. Five hits isn't terrible, but you can do better.'

'He wouldn't...let up,' Ron panted.

'That's the point, isn't it?' she said, smiling coolly. 'A Death Eater wouldn't.'

Ron scowled at her, but he had to admit she was right. A moment later, she called an end to the meeting, and the crowd began to disperse.

'Nice working with you, Weasley,' said Nott sarcastically, and he strode away,

stopping only long enough to snap his fingers at Crabbe and Goyle.

Ron rolled his eyes as the two of them followed after Nott like trained dogs.

Then he turned and was quite pleased to see Malfoy on the ground, rubbing his backside.

'Aren't you going to help me up, Weasley?' He sneered at Ginny.

'Are you hurt?' said Ginny coldly, holding her wand in her right hand.

'No,' said Malfoy, scowling.

'Then get up yourself,' she said, and she turned on her heel and strode over to Ron.

'You okay, Ginny?' said Ron. 'He didn't hit you with anything, did he?'

'He got me with a Trip Jinx,' she said, scowling, and she rubbed her knee. 'But only that. I got him with a Total Body Bind and a few Falling jinxes. Are you okay, Hermione?'

'Of course,' said Hermione loftily, trying hopelessly to smooth her frizzy hair as they began to file out of the Great Hall. 'Millicent's a pathetic dueler, take her wand away from her and she doesn't know what to do with herself. Let her try to get me in a headlock again.'

Two hours later Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny sat in the common room with their books and parchment spread out all over the coffee table and on the floor.

Hermione had taken Ron and Harry aside right after the D.A. meeting and told them she'd need their help on manually translating the codes, nearly all of which she'd figured out, but hadn't written down yet. Ginny, however, overheard, and insisted on helping, too, and Ron and Harry could do nothing but agree. There were stacks and stacks of codes to go through, and the more help they had writing out the messages in plain English, the faster they could sort through them all.

But at the moment, the four of them were focused on homework, at Hermione's insistence.

Ron and Harry were struggling through another complicated Potions essay; Ginny was working on a numerology chart for Divination, and Hermione was sailing easily through her latest Ancient Runes homework. The other Gryffindors had gone to bed by now, exhausted from the rigors of the D.A. meeting.

Ron was just adding another line to his essay when he heard the creak of the portrait hole open. A small, middle-aged witch with dark hair and a heart-shaped face entered the room.

'Mrs. Tonks?' said Ginny, addressing the witch and getting up off the hearth rug. 'Er...we didn't have a session tonight, did we?'

'Hello, Ginny,' said the witch. 'No, we didn't. I've just been in a meeting with Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.'

Ron, Harry and Hermione stood up.

'And you must be Ron and Hermione,' said Mrs. Tonks, walking smoothly over to them and holding out her hand for both Ron and Hermione to shake. 'Ginny's told me all about you. Hello, Harry.'

'Hi, Mrs. Tonks,' said Harry, grinning at her.

'Ginny, I wonder if we might have a word,' said Mrs. Tonks, her smile fading and her face growing serious.

'All right,' said Ginny, shrugging.

'In private,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Forgive me, but--'

'You might as well tell me here, Mrs. Tonks,' said Ginny. 'I'll just tell them anyway. Unless Dumbledore doesn't want me to.'

Mrs. Tonks smiled. 'No, he said nothing like that.' She paused and turned her attention to Ron and the others. 'Perhaps we should sit down.'

Ron didn't like the sound of that; in his experience, any conversation that was preceded by an invitation to sit usually wound up being a bad conversation.

But he nodded and followed Hermione and Harry to the sofa. Ginny took a seat in the chair next to Harry, and Mrs. Tonks sat down in the chair opposite.

'Dumbledore wanted me to keep him apprised of your progress, Ginny,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'That's why I was here tonight. Well, partly, anyway. And you have made tremendous progress in just these few weeks. You have quite a gift. When all is said and done you'll surpass me by a mile.'

'I don't know about that,' said Ginny, blushing.

'Of course, we have reached that portion of your training that requires you to test skills on a human subject,' said Mrs. Tonks. She glanced at Harry. 'I know you've already volunteered, Harry, but Albus and Minerva both think it's best for you not to at this time, not with your many responsibilities. Albus also told me of your connection with...Voldemort.'

Mrs. Tonks said the name slowly and carefully, and Ron wondered if it were the first time she'd ever said it at all.

'We all agreed that you're probably not the best test subject for Ginny right now,' she went on.

Harry pursed his lips and nodded. 'I understand,' he said.

'That doesn't mean you won't ever be Ginny's guinea pig,' said Mrs. Tonks, smiling. 'This connection you have with Voldemort is something that you both share and I think we'll need to explore that down the road. In the meantime, it's important that Ginny perfect her skills on others.'

'I'll be the guinea pig,' said Ron, sitting up straighter on the sofa. 'I mean...if that's okay.'

'Ron...' said Ginny.

'Or me,' said Hermione eagerly. 'I've always wanted to know how the power works, it's fascinating.'

'That's very kind of you both to offer,' said Mrs. Tonks kindly. 'However, I'm afraid we've already chosen a candidate. Dumbledore thought it best, based on my own advice, for Ginny to work with someone she's isn't emotionally close to.'

Ron sat back. 'Who?'

'My nephew,' said Mrs. Tonks.

There was a brief silence.

'Your nephew?' said Ron, confused.

Harry suddenly made a choked noise. 'No way.'

'You mean Malfoy,' said Hermione.

'What?' said Ron furiously, standing up sharply and rounding on Mrs. Tonks. 'Are you mad?'

'Ron, don't!' Ginny hissed, standing up as well. Harry followed suit.

'Allow me to explain--' Mrs. Tonks began, as she, too, stood up.

'Explain?' said Ron furiously.

'Ron, keep your voice down!' Hermione snapped, standing up and putting a hand on his arm.

'Explain what?' said Ron, lowering his voice but unable to keep it from shaking. 'You can't be serious. Your nephew already tried to go after Ginny this summer, he tried to force her...you can't...I won't let you do this!'

'Dammit, Ron, this isn't up to you!' Ginny retorted.

'There is no way in hell I'm going to let that prat anywhere near my sister!' Ron growled, towering over Mrs. Tonks menacingly. Through it all she remained unfazed, which only served to anger Ron even more. What the hell was she on about, that she could even suggest that Ginny be required to use her powers on Draco Malfoy, of all people? The very person who'd practically stalked her through half of last year.

'Calm down, Ronald,' said Mrs. Tonks, in an even voice, and she suddenly reached up--way up, she was quite a bit shorter than he--and pressed a cool, dry hand to his face.

Ron felt it at once, a wave of power that flooded his brain, making his vision go white for a brief moment, and then suddenly it was as if the anger inside him dissolved, evaporated. Mrs. Tonks's face remained impassive as she pulled away.

'Listen to me,' she said, 'and sit down.'

Ron stared at her and felt his knees almost give out on him as he sat, hard, on the sofa.

'You shouldn't do that,' he grumbled, looking at Mrs. Tonks resentfully.

'Yes, she should,' said Hermione, under her breath. Ron gave her an annoyed look, but in the next instant everyone sat down.

'Mrs. Tonks,' said Harry, who'd been quiet all this time, 'why on earth would Dumbledore agree to let Draco anywhere near Ginny? You know their history, don't you?'

'Of course,' said Mrs. Tonks, glancing at Ginny. 'I also know my nephew, believe it or not. I might have fallen out with my sisters but I never stopped...paying attention to their families. The reason I have suggested Draco is quite simply because of his past history with Ginny. Poppy Pomfrey was right when she had Ginny help Draco last year; an Empath never truly masters her skills until she is able to effectively help someone she might otherwise detest.'

She paused, took a breath and continued.

'And there are other considerations. Draco's past history, most importantly. His childhood, his father's treatment of him, the death of...Narcissa. Draco's past is one filled with emptiness and emotional pain that he carries to this day, and yet, his behavior makes him a wholly unsympathetic person to most, including Ginny.'

'I don't like this at all,' said Ron angrily. 'He's...addicted to Ginny's power, he's tried to force her--'

'I have stipulated several conditions,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Ginny will train with Draco in my presence at all times; sessions will be conducted twice a week. Draco cannot carry his wand during a training session. And if I hear of any sort of harassment on Draco's part, I have been given permission by Dumbledore to take whatever corrective measures I deem appropriate. And I promise you those methods would not take into consideration whatever blood ties I share with him. There is also the added benefit of Draco already being aware of Ginny's powers. I'd rather the knowledge of her abilities as closely guarded as possible. Using Draco allows me greater control on that front.

'I can't force you, Ginny, to accept this. It's my recommendation and I have the support of Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, but the decision must be left up to you.'

There was a long silence; Ron was still a bit woozy from the effects of Mrs. Tonks's touch, and though his mind felt slightly heavy and sluggish, the anger began to bubble up in him again. He was about to say something else but Ginny beat him to it.

'I'll do it,' she said, her voice hard.

'Ginny,' said Harry and Ron together.

'You don't have to--' said Harry.

'This isn't right--' said Ron.

'I'm not sure--' said Hermione.

'I'll do it,' Ginny repeated, her voice a bit louder, a bit harder.

'Are you sure?' said Mrs. Tonks.

Ginny gave her a long look, and finally nodded. 'I'm sure. The most important thing is for me to perfect my skills. If that means putting up with Ratboy...I'll suppose I'll have to do it.'

'Ginny, you don't have to do this,' said Ron desperately. 'Harry, Hermione, back me up.'

'Ginny,' said Harry slowly, and he groaned and looked at Mrs. Tonks. 'Can't you think of anyone else she can work with?'

'Harry, it's my decision,' said Ginny, a bit sharply.

'Hermione,' said Ron desperately.

'It's her decision, Ron,' she said. 'I don't like it anymore than you do, but...it's not like Mrs. Tonks is ever going to leave them alone, is she?'

Ron ran his hand over his face; he looked at Harry, who gazed at him sympathetically, but who made no move to say anything else. And in the end, what could Harry say? What could Ron say? Ginny wasn't a Weasley for nothing; she had inherited the trademark Weasley stubbornness.

_And not just the Weasley stubbornness... the _female_ Weasley stubbornness, which is a thousand times worse._

And suddenly something occurred to Ron.

'What about Mum and Dad?' he said. 'Ginny's not of age, she won't be of age until February. What if they don't approve?'

'Ron,' Ginny groaned.

'I already spoke to your mother and father about this,' said Mrs. Tonks.

'Of course you did,' said Ron sourly. 'Ginny--'

'The discussion is over, Ron,' said Ginny, standing up. 'I'm doing this. I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. But I'm going to do it. If I can't get my powers under control, I can't help anyone, can I?'

She glanced at Harry and the two of them exchanged a long, meaningful sort of look, and yet Ron couldn't quite figure out just what meaning was there, only that their eyes became sad.

Mrs. Tonks stood, and Ron, Hermione and Harry followed suit.

'I apologize for the unpleasantness of this conversation,' said Mrs. Tonks.

'Yeah, right,' said Ron glumly. Hermione elbowed him sharply.

'I should be going,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'It was nice to meet you, Ron, Hermione. And to see you again, Harry.'

'You, too,' said Harry, but his tone was flat.

'Oh!' said Mrs. Tonks suddenly. 'I almost forgot. This is for you, Harry.'

She pulled a small envelope from her robes. It was held shut with a red wax seal. Ron couldn't make out the details of the seal, but Harry was staring at it as if it might burn his hands.

'Sirius wrote that to you,' she said. 'He gave it to me not long before he died and I'm ashamed I completely forgot about it in...the aftermath of that battle at the Department of Mysteries. Nymphadora was so badly injured it was all I could do to keep my head on straight, and then Ted and I had to move out of our house for safety reasons. It must have gotten mixed up with our things; I only found it a few days ago in the messy recesses of my ancient desk. Forgive me for the delay in getting it to you.'

Harry swallowed hard.

'Th-thanks,' he said, and he tucked the small envelope inside his robes.

'Well, it's late, past your bedtime, certainly,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'I really must be going. I'll see you Saturday afternoon, Ginny. Don't worry about telling Draco; Professor McGonagall will take care of that.'

Ron watched Harry for a moment, but then he and the others turned their attention to Mrs. Tonks as she started to exit through the portrait hole. Before she left, however, she turned back and smiled at Ginny.

'Ratboy?' said Mrs. Tonks, and Ginny blushed. 'Interesting nickname. Do you all refer to Draco in that pejorative?'

'Yes,' said Ron, a bit defiantly. Hermione elbowed him sharply again.

Mrs. Tonks, however, didn't look at all offended. 'Funny,' she said, 'I've always thought he had more the look of a ferret, myself.'

And with that, she left the common room.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight: The Halloween Ball

_Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Halloween Ball_

Harry didn't bother with his homework anymore, or the stack of parchment covered in coded messages. The moment Andromeda Tonks left the common room, he turned to Ron, Hermione and Ginny and announced he was turning in. Nobody said anything, for which Harry was grateful.

He gathered his books and headed upstairs, relieved to find that Seamus, Dean and Neville were asleep, all of them with their bed curtains drawn shut. Harry stripped off his clothes, pulled on pyjamas, and pulled the letter from his trouser pocket. He smiled sardonically at the seal, which was the Black family crest; only Sirius had magicked the wax to read 'Stupid pureblood nonsense' in tiny letters.

Harry put the letter on the bed; he brushed his teeth quickly, came back into the dimly lit bedroom and pulled the curtains shut round his four-poster. The wax seal snapped apart when he bent it, and he opened the letter.

20 June 1996 

_Dear Harry,_

_If you're reading this, that means I'm dead. I only hope I got to say goodbye to you first, and that dying didn't hurt too much._

_If you hate me for abandoning you, go ahead, that's your right. I know some of the people in your life, the people you care about, have a habit of leaving you behind. And maybe if I'd just listened to Remus and stayed behind instead of coming after you, I'd still be alive, and you wouldn't be reading this damn thing._

_But I have to go. Snivellus came and told us what happened, and I knew I couldn't stay here another second. This house is killing me slowly. Not just because of the horrible memories here, or even the loneliness, although Merlin knows that doesn't help, but because I'm stuck here like a bloody prisoner and I can't help you like I had once. If you never know the feeling of being useless, you'll be lucky. That's what I've been to you, Harry. I've been useless, as a friend and a godfather. _

'You were never useless,' Harry whispered, feeling the tears sting his eyes. The scars on his heart, he'd thought they had healed, but reading the letter was cutting them open afresh.

_That's not the only reason I've gone, of course. I've left because I'm sick of this bloody house and being told what to do and being so careful all the damn time. This isn't living. I ate rats and lived in caves for a year, but at least I was free. Maybe I have a death wish after all. At least dead, I'm free. _

_That's selfish of me, isn't it? Yeah, it is. But I've spent thirteen years locked up, first surrounded by Dementors and then by my mother's portrait and Kreacher (I'm still debating which is worse). Death can't be worse than that, can it?_

_I don't know why, but something tells me it is a better place. Maybe I'll get to see James and Lily and I'll be able to tell them all about you, how you've grown into a man, how you've taken on more responsibilities than you deserve and yet you're still standing. Maybe I'll even be able to see you every day, though you won't know I'm there (if I can see you every day, I promise not to spy on you if you're snogging any girls). Maybe I'll have a spiffing wardrobe and I'll be handsome like I used to be, and be surrounded by beautiful, fawning women who wait on me hand and foot. Hell, if the above is all true, death sounds like a pretty good deal to me._

_Well, all except the part about leaving you behind. I don't like that part, and I don't like knowing that I can't be there to help you beat the stuffing out of Voldemort. But I know you'll do fine in the end. You'll beat Voldemort, and you'll live a long, happy life. You've got a great group of friends who won't let you down, and I've never met anyone with more talent, or heart, or courage than you. You're a great wizard, and you're going to be an even better man. The best honor of my life was not being James Potter's best friend, but being godfather to his son. I only wish I could have done a better job, and I could have known you longer than I did._

_Take care of yourself, Harry. You're going to be okay._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

Harry's eyes were so blurred with tears he could hardly read the last few lines of the letter. A sob choked his throat and he shoved it down. No. He would not cry again. He was sick of it, the crying. He'd already cried for Susan, for his parents, he wouldn't do it anymore. He wiped at his eyes furiously with one hand and crumpled the letter in his fist.

_I never got to say goodbye. Damn you, Sirius! I never got to say goodbye!_

Harry made another choked noise as he pushed down the lump in his throat, and suddenly he was tearing the letter, ripping it to shreds, cursing Sirius silently for having been so selfish as to want to die, for leaving him behind, the way everyone did.

_Not everyone does, and you know it. Ron's still here, and Hermione, and Ginny..._

Harry wiped his eyes again, and started to pull up the covers of his bed when he remembered the letter he'd torn into pieces. Sirius was never coming back. He was gone. All that was left of him were a few photographs and Harry's memories, and the memories of the others who'd known him.

He looked down at it for a moment, and then picked up his wand from beneath his pillow and pointed it at the pieces of parchment.

'_Reparo__._'

The letter repaired itself, and Harry slipped it beneath his pillow, next to his wand. He was asleep in less than a minute.

The next few weeks flew by. The prefects had started to promote the Halloween ball and students were anxiously putting together costumes and seeking out partners. Harry asked Ron if he and Hermione had picked out costumes but Ron merely grunted sourly and said, 'You'll see.' He then made a noise to indicate he had no intention of further discussing the subject, and when Hermione started to speak, he silenced her with a sharp look.

_Never mind, _thought Harry_. I don't want to be responsible for a row_.

Hermione was as good as her word, regarding the codes; she put little notes at the bottom of each page explaining which code formation was which, and she'd already taken the trouble to undo the magical protections on each page. But even with all that help, translating the codes turned out to be very slow work. Ron and Harry both were struggling to keep up with their homework even as they tried to fit in regular Quidditch practices. Harry was still training with Luna once a week, and then there were D.A. meetings. Ron, meanwhile, had to contend with his Seer training and Head Boy duties, which only grew more onerous as the ball approached.

In the end, Ron and Harry found no time at all to focus on the codes. None, at least, if they meant to get any sleep at night. Harry found himself re-reading Sirius's letter every night, and yet the initial blunt pain of it had faded almost as quickly as it had started.

_I guess this means I'm 'healing'_.

Harry tried to put the ball, meanwhile, out of his mind; if he was honest with himself, he simply didn't feel like going. The concept of a Halloween ball brought up memories of last year and going with Susan, and after his disastrous attempts at dating both Daphne and Parvati, Harry wasn't feeling to keen on pursuing any girl at all at the moment.

The matter of Parvati, at least, resolved itself one evening after Quidditch practice. The Gryffindors had put in a grueling session; the Chasers had mastered their Figure Eight formation; Ron was trying out a few daring new moves that allowed him greater reach for blocking goals; Colin and Seamus were now smacking Bludgers more accurately than ever.

Harry showered quickly, dried off and threw on a heavy jumper, a pair of jeans, and his cloak; he picked up his gear and broom and was about to leave the changing rooms when he nearly collided with Parvati.

'Sorry,' he said quickly, setting down his gear.

'Sorry,' she said, taking a step back.

'Er, hi,' said Harry painfully. Parvati was freshly showered, and looked clean and pretty.

'Harry, can I have a word?' said Parvati.

'Sure,' said Harry at once, hoping his tone sounded very accommodating and apologetic. She looked rigid and angry and Harry half expected her to slap him. Well, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it.

But she didn't. Instead, she straightened up and met his gaze.

'I want to apologize,' she said, in a very dignified tone of voice.

Harry was completely taken aback; he hadn't been expecting this at all. For a moment, he just stared at her stupidly before he found his voice.

'Apologize?' he managed. 'For what? I'm the one that should apologize.'

'Yes, well,' said Parvati, 'leaving me alone...and mostly naked...in an abandoned building was hardly the most gentlemanly thing you could do.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'I'm really, really sorry, let me explain--'

'I really think--'

'Please, just let me say this,' said Harry, and he took a deep breath. 'I like you, Parvati. I think you're a really nice person and… a fantastic Quidditch player and you're really smart and you're incredibly gorgeous...'

'But?'

'I'm not in love with you,' said Harry, knowing his face looked pained. He rushed to finish his clumsy monologue. 'There's nothing wrong with you at all; it's me. I just...I'm not used to...well, I've only had sex with one person and… and that was a serious sort of thing we had, you know, and... I don't think I'm really the sort to... to do it on the first date.'

Parvati bit her lip and looked at him sadly. 'You must think I'm such a slag.'

'No!' said Harry at once. 'I don't, I swear. You're not a slag. It's just...I can't really...sleep with a girl I'm not serious about. Or serious with, you know in a relationship...type of thing. But I don't think you're a slag.'

'Thanks,' she said. 'I've only had sex with one other person, too…actually. I don't know why I was so forward, but…Harry, I have a confession to make. I like you, too. I mean, you're brave and smart and you're really cute, too.'

Harry blushed.

'But,' Parvati went on, 'I realized--after I had some time to think about what happened-- that... I think I was probably using you.'

'Using me?'

'I suppose there was a part of me that wanted to know what it was like to have sex with the Boy Who Lived,' said Parvati. Her face was beet red and she looked ashamed. 'I'm sorry. It was wrong. You deserve better than that, it must drive you mad when people approach you just because you're famous.'

'It gets old,' Harry said, but to his surprise, he wasn't angry with her at all. On the contrary, he felt relieved.

'So...I think it's better if we're just friends,' said Parvati. 'Not that I'm not attracted to you but...I'm not in love with you, either... and I don't think we fit together all that well anyway.'

'Okay,' said Harry. 'Friends, then. And I am sorry about...about...you know.'

'Me, too,' said Parvati. 'Can we call it even?'

'Sure,' said Harry, and he held out his hand to shake; she accepted his hand in her own, and they shook on it, both of them smiling with obvious relief.

_Well,_ he thought, _that's two girls I've managed to break up with without it being a total disaster. Go me._

A week before the ball, Harry still didn't have a date. Ron had taken to needling him about this.

'You don't want to go stag, for heaven's sake,' he said. 'Even Crabbe and Goyle got dates again this year.'

'I don't think I want to go at all,' Harry said. 'I don't have a costume and I don't really fancy the idea of dealing with a date all evening.'

Ron let out a sigh. 'Wish I could skip out,' he said.

'Why?' said Harry. 'You finally get to go to a ball with Hermione, I thought you'd be thrilled.'

Ron snorted. 'You haven't seen my costume yet.'

'Is it that bad?' Harry asked.

Ron gave another disgusted snort. 'Multiply my maroon dress robes from fourth year times a hundred.'

Harry laughed. 'On second thought, maybe I will pop in, just to see what Hermione's making you wear.'

'She's not making me wear anything,' said Ron, bristling. 'I...I picked it out myself.'

'Yeah, right,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'You picked out a costume that's worse than your maroon dress robes?'

Ron's face fell. 'Dammit.'

'I'm definitely going now,' said Harry, grinning.

'Take the mickey out of me, Harry, and I'll beat you into next week,' said Ron.

Harry chuckled and pulled out his homework; he and Ron sat in front of the fire in the common room. Several other students were scattered about, studying quietly. Hermione was, as usual these days, in the library.

Harry and Ron were both well into their Transfiguration essays when Ginny entered the common room, looking distinctly annoyed.

'Hey, Gin,' Ron called. 'What's up?'

Ginny made a disgruntled noise. 'Men,' she said irritably.

'Uh oh,' said Ron, grinning at Harry. 'What'd we do this time?'

'Oh, you two haven't done anything,' said Ginny irritably, as she flopped down on the couch next to Harry. Harry bit his lip hard at the way her breasts bounced beneath her jumper, which was too small, and prayed Ron hadn't seen him checking out his sister's bosom.

'What, then?' said Ron, who apparently hadn't noticed, and neither, thankfully, had Ginny.

'Colin's backing out of being my date to the ball, can you believe it?'

'What?' said Ron, sounding affronted. 'Where is he? I'll teach him a lesson--'

'Oh, calm down,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. 'Don't go all "big brother" on me.'

'He can't do that, Ginny,' said Ron. 'It's rude.'

'Well, of course it's rude,' said Ginny, and she sighed. 'Look, the stupid git forgot he'd already asked Eloise Midgen to the ball.'

'Eloise Midgen?' said Ron, looking horrified. 'He chose Eloise Midgen over you?'

'Colin's had a mad crush on her months,' said Ginny. 'I've been trying to help him work up the courage to ask her out, but he's been too scared. Well, until recently, apparently. I think he asked me out of habit.'

'Eloise Midgen?' Ron repeated, shaking his head.

'Anyway,' said Ginny, 'so much for having a date. I suppose I could go stag. Or whatever the female equivalent is.'

'Doe?' Harry suggested, grinning.

'Hey, wait,' said Ron. 'You two go together.'

'What?' said Harry and Ginny together.

'You two should go together,' said Ron. 'Yeah, why not? You're both dateless, you're mates. You might as well, right?'

Harry tried not to blush but he did anyway when Ginny looked at him and smiled shyly.

'What about Parvati?' Ginny asked.

'That's done,' said Harry.

'Oh,' said Ginny. Her tone was sympathetic, but she pursed her lips as though she were trying not to smile.

'Well,' said Harry, shrugging and striving to sound casual, 'it might be fun.'

'I suppose,' said Ginny.

'And it would be nice to have a partner, considering Crabbe and Goyle both have them,' said Harry.

'True,' said Ginny. 'So...you and me, Harry?'

'Okay,' said Harry, painfully aware that they were agreeing to be each other's date in front of Ginny's older brother.

Ron, for his part, was gazing at them suddenly through narrowed eyes. He stopped the moment he met Harry's gaze and went back to looking at his Potions essay.

Ginny smiled at Harry for a moment, but then her face turned into a scowl again.

'Er, Ginny, you okay?' said Harry.

'Sorry,' she said, and she lowered her voice. 'I have a training session tonight with Malfoy again.'

'Has he tried anything?' Ron asked at once. ''Cause if he has--'

'No,' said Ginny sharply. She lowered her voice again. 'He's just insufferable, is all. I don't want to talk about him, bad enough I have to go near him.'

'Harry! Ron!'

The sound of Hermione's voice made Harry, Ron and Ginny look up.

'Hi, Ginny,' said Hermione breathlessly. She looked and sounded as if she'd run from the library.

''Mione, what's up?' said Ron, getting up and crossing to her.

'I've figured out something,' she said. 'Can we go to your room?'

Harry and Ginny sniggered and exchanged looks.

'Oh, really, it's nothing like that,' said Hermione impatiently. 'You two should come as well.'

'I can't,' said Ginny glumly. 'I...' she glanced over at the other students, who were now watching them with interest... 'have an appointment,' she finished.

'Oh,' said Hermione, and the look on her face said she understood. 'Well, I can tell you later, if you're interested.'

'Sure,' said Ginny. 'I should get going, though. I'll see you later.'

She smiled at Harry. ''Bye, Harry.'

''Bye, Ginny,' he said, smiling back, feeling a pleasant warmth settle in his chest. He hadn't expected to be going to a ball with Ginny, but the idea was growing on him. Indeed, it seemed obvious. They were friends, right? They got on well. They'd enjoy themselves.

Harry tried not to let his eyes linger on her copper hair as it swung down her back, or the way her jeans fit her so nicely through the hips.

'Let's go,' said Hermione anxiously.

'Okay, keep your hair on,' said Ron, gathering up his books; Harry snapped out of his reverie and followed suit.

'What's this about, anyway?' Harry muttered, as they started toward the portrait hole.

'I've figured something out about Hopkirk,' said Hermione triumphantly.

Ron shut the door to his room and sealed it with a wave of his wand.

'Tell us,' said Harry, taking up his usual position in Ron's chair as Ron sat on the bed. Hermione stacked her things, including several pieces of parchment with coded messages, on Ron's desk.

'Okay,' said Hermione. 'Hopkirk isn't a vampire. She's got traces of vampire blood--'

'How do you know?' said Harry.

'I'm getting to that, don't interrupt,' Hermione scolded. 'I worked out a few more of the codes. I'm not a hundred percent certain, but it looks like your mother really was corresponding with Hopkirk. They were doing some experiments on blood.'

'Her blood?' Ron said.

'No,' said Hermione. 'Well yes, they were testing her blood, but not for the same reason. No, they were working on all sorts of different human blood. Your mother even took samples of her own blood and ran experiments on them.'

'What sort of experiments?'

'I'm not sure,' said Hermione. 'The messages I've read don't go into the specifics, though they do mention ancient magic, and something called _sanguen__ generare._'

'_Sanguen__ generare_?' Harry repeated.

'It means, roughly, blood to bring life,' said Hermione.

'Doesn't all blood bring life?' said Harry. 'I mean, you can't live without enough blood in your body, right?'

'True,' said Hermione, 'but this is different. Here, look at this message. I've written it out.'

She handed Harry a piece of clean, new parchment on which she had written, in very neat hand, a message that appeared. He read it aloud.

'"L: DD says V uses _sanguen__ generare_ to prolong life, but according to tests, V's blood tainted with malice. _Sanguen__ generare_ used properly can shield from _Avada_, but requires blood sacrifice".'

'What does that mean?' Ron asked.

'Here's another one,' said Hermione, handing him another scrap of parchment, on which she'd written another translated message.

'"Gris: DD wants to cast _Sanguen__ Generare_; will protect H and backfire if Avada is attempted. But will not kill V. Blood sacrifice key".'

'I still don't get it,' said Harry.

'They're talking about ancient magic, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Your mother's sacrifice, remember? Her blood sacrifice protected you against Voldemort's Killing Curse and caused it to backfire on him. But it didn't kill him.'

Harry blinked and read the final three words. 'Blood sacrifice key,' he muttered, and he looked up. 'She knew. My mum knew she couldn't save me from Voldemort unless...unless she sacrificed herself.'

Hermione nodded. 'Look at the date, Harry,' she said. 'It was just a few weeks before you were born.'

Nobody spoke for a long moment.

'What does this have to do with Hopkirk?' said Harry.

'There are these,' said Hermione, picking up a smaller stack. 'They're all from Hopkirk. They're all signed GH, addressed to your mum, after you were born. And they're all about Hopkirk doing experiments with a Shield Charm.'

'You mean...' said Ron.

'I was wrong,' said Hermione, scowling just a bit. 'I seem to be wrong a lot these days. It appears Hopkirk was trying to develop a Shield Charm that could block, or at least deflect the Killing Curse. She didn't want your mother to use the ancient magic, Harry. Listen to this.' Hermione pulled a piece of parchment from the small stack and began to read.

'L: Don't be hasty. Making great progress with shield. Can fully repel _Crucio_ and _Imperio_. Won't be long for _Avada._ So close. SG might not be needed.'

There was another long silence before Hermione spoke again.

'Hopkirk's done it,' said Hermione. 'She developed a charm powerful enough to deflect the Killing Curse. But not...not in time to save your parents. And the charm isn't perfect; it deflects the curse, but the curse can still bounce away and hit someone. But still…what she's done is incredible. She must have been working on it at least from the time she knew your mum, if not before. It had to have taken her years.'

'But what about...all the other blood stuff?' said Harry, his mind reeling. Hopkirk had known his mother. They might have even been friends. They'd been running experiments on blood, and Hopkirk had been trying to develop a Shield Charm strong enough to repel the Killing Curse.

'I'm not sure where all their blood research leads yet,' said Hermione. 'There's still a lot left to translate.'

'That's our fault,' said Ron. 'Sorry, we've just been so swamped--'

'It's okay,' said Hermione, smiling at them fondly. 'I know you two aren't quite so good at managing your time.'

'Hey,' said Ron, pouting, but Hermione ruffled his hair.

'We'll work on them over the weekend,' said Harry firmly. 'Before the ball, after the ball, whatever.'

'We will?' said Ron. Hermione gave him a look. 'Yeah, we will,' he said.

'Hermione, wait, you said something else about Hopkirk, she's not a vampire--'

'Oh, that,' said Hermione. 'Hopkirk isn't a vampire. She's a succubus.'

'She's a what?' Ron asked.

'A succubus,' said Hermione. 'A demon.'

'Lovely,' said Harry, grimacing.

'I got the clue when her eyes flashed red that time,' said Hermione. 'Then I pulled a few things from the Restricted Section and everything fit. The unnatural beauty, her movements, the sexual heat, the reason she eats her food like she's getting off on it. It's all there. The vampire blood adds a bit of a twist, makes her give off waves of cold. I haven't figured that part out yet, either, how she got vampire blood; the likeliest explanation is that she must have shared blood with a vampire once before.'

Ron made a face. 'Yuck,' he said.

'It's how vampires are made, Ron, a blood exchange,' said Hermione. 'A vampire bites his victim and drains his blood, not to the point of death, but just enough to leave him really weak. Then, if he wants, he offers his victim a choice: death or vampire-hood. If the victim chooses to turn, the vampire opens a vein and the victim sucks out some of the vampire's blood. A period of time passes in which the victim goes from being alive to being undead, and then...he's a vampire.'

'That's disgusting,' said Ron.

'With Hopkirk, though, the change didn't happen,' said Hermione. 'She was too powerful to fully succumb. Which begs the question of why a vampire would even bother with a succubus as a victim, a succubus is a powerful demon, she could easily fight back...but anyway...'

'But...what does she _do_, as a demon, I mean?' said Ron.

'A succubus and an incubus--that's the male equivalent--are essentially sex demons,' said Hermione. 'They're immortal, in the sense that they don't get sick, but they can be killed, though it's very difficult. They can assume the forms of beautiful human beings but dissolve into mist. They have sex with mortal people while they sleep, and bit by bit they steal that person's soul and turn him or her into a kind of sexual slave.'

Ron and Harry stared at Hermione in horror.

'Merlin,' Ron said finally.

'Dumbledore hired...that?' said Harry at last.

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'he did. But it begs the question, how is she controlling herself? A succubus has an insatiable sexual appetite, she needs mortal victims to survive.'

Ron and Harry gulped.

'But since nobody in the school appears to be missing or acting strangely,' Hermione went on, 'perhaps she's found a way to control her urges. If so, it would be quite extraordinary. Then again, half the male population in this school would probably jump at the chance to be Hopkirk's sex toy.'

'I wouldn't,' said Harry and Ron together, exchanging disturbed looks.

'How did she become a demon?' Harry asked.

'She didn't become a demon,' said Hermione. 'She was born that way. Her mother…whoever she is…would have been impregnated by an incubus at some point.'

'At some point?' said Ron.

'Hopkirk is immortal,' said Hermione. 'Who knows how old she really is? For all we know her mother gave birth to her hundreds of years ago.'

There was a brief silence, and Hermione spoke again.

'This also adds to my theory about why Dumbledore hired her,' she said. 'Not just that he figured she knew things that could protect you--and the other students--but…consider, even without being a demon, Hopkirk's methods are dangerous. But she's a succubus, which puts the half the population of this school at risk. Dumbledore's taking an incredible risk in hiring her, and you can bet he knew what she was all along. At least that's the implication in those coded messages I've gone through so far.'

'What could she have been doing before, though?' Harry wondered. 'I mean…was she working for the Ministry?'

'If she was, the Ministry couldn't have known about her being a demon,' said Hermione. 'If you think the Ministry's treatment of house elves has been appalling, you should see their policy on demons. As far as the Ministry is concerned, the only good demon is a dead one. If they'd found out about her, she probably would have been killed. When Crouch took over the Aurors, he was convinced the demons were all in Voldemort's pocket. Well, most of them were, as demons are exactly the sort of creature Voldemort would want on his side, but there had to be a few who weren't. Like Hopkirk. But Crouch didn't make a distinction. During the first war, demons were hunted down and killed; Crouch was relentless. Hopkirk might well be one of the few of her kind left in Britain.'

'What about now?' said Harry. 'What's the Ministry's view now?'

'Not much has changed, at least where demons are concerned,' said Hermione. 'And I doubt it will change anytime soon. There's no getting around the fact that demons are inherently dangerous. Not evil so much as amoral. It's almost impossible for a succubus to escape her nature. Which is why Hopkirk is such a contradiction. I mean, according to Dumbledore, she went to school at Durmstrang. And at some point, she knew your mother; they might have even been friends. At least, that's what it looks like; why else would Hopkirk be so adamant against your mum using the blood protection spell? So Hopkirk has already managed to do two things most demons never truly accomplish: she's managed to function in society and to make a friend.'

Harry smirked. 'My mum had pretty weird taste in friends, then.'

The three of them agreed, without any sort of discussion, to keep Hermione's revelations about Hopkirk quiet; Ginny would be the only one told. Ron and Harry decided to devote the Sunday following the Halloween ball to translating every code in their stacks; Hermione still had at least a few dozen more to go through before everything was said and done.

The week leading up to the ball was the busiest yet. The students and teachers were in high spirits this year. Harry couldn't quite reach that good mood, though; whereas the rest of the students looked at the relative peace and quiet in the world as a good sign, Harry and his friends knew better. They were all living on borrowed time at the moment; it was only a matter of time before Voldemort struck again. Yet, Harry couldn't fully avoid feeling calmer about things, and relieved, in fact, that he did have a partner to the Halloween ball, and one he knew he'd actually have fun with.

In the meantime, Ron kept meditating. On Tuesday night, he reported having another vision involving Death Eaters--he didn't know who they were--planning to attack Muggle villages in various parts of Wales; he reported the news to Professor McGonagall. On Friday, _The Daily Prophet_ announced that the Welsh Ministry of Magic had indeed thwarted three separate attacks by Death Eaters, that several had been arrested and a few killed. Ron was whey-faced by the time Hermione finished reading the article aloud.

She looked up at him and beamed. 'You did it again, Ron.'

'Good show, Ron,' said Harry.

'It's...it's nothing,' Ron insisted, swallowing hard. Clearly, he still wasn't totally comfortable being a Seer, and with this second incident, there was no brushing off Ron's abilities as a fluke.

There was still no news, however, as to the whereabouts of Lucius Malfoy or Helene Rosier. Ginny and Ron were relieved, however, to be receiving regular, if short, messages from Charlie, who was now somewhere in the Czech Republic, supposedly working with a species of dragon heretofore thought of as extinct.

'As long as he keeps writing to us,' said Ginny, 'we know he's safe.'

By now Hermione's 'list' of all the various visions and dreams Ron had been having, the clues provided by the coded messages, and Harry's previous interactions with Voldemort had grown to such proportions that it took up six pieces of parchment and counting; indeed, Hermione had attached the parchment together to form not so much a list, but a map, a kind of elaborate flow-chart covered in various notes and scribbles that Harry and Ron could barely decipher. She tried to explain her many ideas, but it was beyond them both and in the end she gave up and told them she'd go over it again once she'd managed to narrow things down a bit.

'Or a lot,' Ron muttered.

If the teachers were in a relatively good mood, they didn't show it by going easy on the students. Homework and lessons were as difficult as ever. On Friday, Snape started them on Acromantula Venom Antidote. The process was quite grisly and involved essentially dissecting adolescent acromantulas and extracting liquids from various organs.

'Of course the venom is the primary ingredient, but as acromantula venom affects the central nervous system, brain fluid is needed as well,' said Snape, smiling viciously at Ron, who was swallowing very hard and looking like he was trying not to throw up. 'And the heart must be extracted and allowed to rot over the course of two weeks in order to produce the maggots which--oh, for heaven's sake. Miss Patil, would you please revive Miss Brown and tell her if she can't keep her head, I'll be happy to take house points.'

'Well, at least it's dead,' Harry said after Snape's lecture ended. He was trying to spin the lesson as positively as he could when he saw Ron go ashen at the sight of the platter sized dead spider lying across their table, with its many hairy legs splayed out and tacked to the surface.

'Right,' Ron croaked. 'It's dead. Very dead. I'm fine. No problem.'

In the end, it was Harry who did most of the cutting and extracting of the organs; Ron could hardly manage even to pluck some of the hairs from the beast's legs. The lesson ended and a green-faced Ron excused himself to go to the loo.

Fifteen minutes later Ron appeared at the Great Hall for lunch and announced he wasn't hungry, and that in fact, he might never eat again. That resolution lasted until dinner, when Ron ate his usual three helpings.

Transfiguration had progressed to turning humans into large inanimate objects; in Defense, they continued to work on physical defensive training, but Hopkirk announced that they would also be learning hand-to-hand combat, without wands. Vital for Auror training, she said (giving Harry and Ron pointed looks) and for survival in general. Harry watched Hopkirk intently, looking for other signs of her...condition, as he'd come to think of it. She tried to hide it, but Harry noticed the way she watched some of the boys--young men now--in the class, himself included. She could not fully mask the hungry look in her eyes. She had the habit of licking her lips, an erotic gesture that made Harry shudder with a mixture of arousal and horror every time he saw her do it. More than once he noticed her hands, the way she would run her right hand over her left arm like a lover's caress. They continued to work on throwing off the Imperius Curse, and there was no mistaking the look on Hopkirk's face when she placed the curse upon one of the guys; her eyes flashed and her lips curled into a kind of triumphant sneer as she worked her will on the male subject.

Yet, for all that she frightened and disgusted him there was no escaping the effect she had on Harry. Her beauty was impossible not to notice; the waves of heat, and her scent, so subtle that Harry hadn't noticed it until now, but once he did, he knew it at once: it was the scent of sex.

He found himself thinking of his usual catalogue of nasty images in order to squelch his feelings of arousal every time she came within a few feet of him. If this was what she was like when she controlled her urges, Harry didn't even want to imagine what she must be like when she gave into them. And Hermione said Hopkirk was assuming the form of a human woman. What, then, was her usual form? Did she have horns and a tail and sharp teeth and red eyes, like the pictures he'd seen in Aunt Marge's old Bible?

But for all this, Hopkirk was teaching him things, things he knew he would need. Defense Against the Dark Arts had turned into combat training, and the speed with which they were learning spells and curses and how to dodge those spells and curses--not just with counterspells but with the movement of their bodies--was useful, to say the least. Not even Bill had put the students through their paces like this.

Charms became physical that week, when Flitwick announced they would be doing self-levitating spells that allowed them to leap great distances. It was hard work and between that and Defense, every student in seventh year was nursing bumps and bruises and sore muscles, and more than a few had to go to the hospital wing to mend a sprain or a cut.

The Pygmy Spiketails had grown from thumb sized to the size of a small hand. Harry had to admit, they were endearing, but they didn't do much apart from eat, sleep and breathe puffs of smoke. Grubbly-Plank had them keeping 'progress journals' on the dragons' growth and eating habits, and though the lessons had become a bit dry, everyone was grateful for the reprieve from their tougher classes.

History of Magic was still stuck in centaur revolts, which Professor Binns made seem about as exciting as watching paint dry. Herbology was now focused on harvesting the acromantula hearts from Snape's lesson. This meant pounding the hearts until they were flat and then placing them in a solution of stinksap and seaweed. By the end of the week, Ron wasn't the only one who'd thrown up after class.

It was with some relief, then, that Saturday came. Harry had booked the pitch for a morning Quidditch practice, but everyone was so excited for the ball that they wound up accomplishing little more than passing a Quaffle around. It was only in the afternoon that Harry realized he hadn't given a thought to a costume.

'Go as Sid What's-His-Name,' Ron suggested, as they left the changing rooms and headed back toward the castle for lunch.

'Bad idea, Ron,' said Harry.

'Oh, right, sorry,' said Ron. 'Ex memories, right?'

Harry nodded.

'You could borrow my Cannons stuff,' Ron suggested later on, when Harry still hadn't figured out just what his costume should be.

'Your stuff doesn't fit me,' said Harry, groaning.

'That's what Shrinking Spells are for,' said Ron, in a tone that sounded very much like someone else.

Harry gave Ron a look. 'Thanks for that, Hermione,' he said.

'Shut up,' said Ron, blushing.

'Bugger,' said Harry. 'What are you wearing, anyway?'

Harry had been asking Ron this all week, but Ron, to Harry's great surprise, hadn't admitted anything yet.

'You'll see,' he grunted, which had become his stock response.

Three hours before the ball, Harry still didn't have a costume, he still didn't know what Ron was wearing, he hadn't seen Ginny since practice, and Hermione disappeared to get ready.

'I'm glad these things are only once a year,' said Ron. 'Three hours? What does she do for three hours?'

'Hey, Harry,' said Ginny, as she entered the common room two hours before the ball. Ron had gone to the Great Hall to supervise some of the prefects. 'What's up?'

'I don't have a costume,' said Harry, shrugging. 'Do you mind?'

'Harry, you have to have a costume, it's a Halloween ball,' said Ginny, folding her arms.

'What are you going as?'

'Queen Elizabeth the First,' said Ginny. 'I've got the right coloring, anyway. I learned all about her in Muggle Studies.'

'So, you're going as Queen Elizabeth,' said Harry. 'Great. Any ideas for me?'

Ginny eyed him for a moment. 'I might,' she said. 'Ron and Hermione are going as a royal couple, Hermione told me. We...could do that, if you want. I mean, it might make things easier,' she added, her cheeks going pink.

'I thought Queen Elizabeth was known as the Virgin Queen,' said Harry, and he blushed.

Ginny snorted. 'Yeah, right,' she said, and then she cleared her throat. 'Can I come up to your room?'

Harry blushed. 'Er...yeah.' She blushed, too, and looked at her feet for a moment.

'You know, we could go through your clothes and figure something out,' she mumbled.

'Right,' he said. 'So...let's go.'

They went up the stairs and entered the dormitory; Harry was relieved to find it empty. He wasn't sure he wanted to explain Ginny's presence to anyone, especially not Dean Thomas.

'So this is the boy's dormitory,' said Ginny.

'You've never been up here?' said Harry, surprised, and then he blushed again at the implications of what he said.

'Dean and I always...went other places,' said Ginny. Suddenly Harry half-wished there were other people in the room, if only to rid himself of the sudden flip-flopping in his stomach. Harry had hoped that his and Ginny's agreement not to date would have eased his attraction for her a bit. Clearly it hadn't, and judging by the way she was fidgeting, it hadn't for her, either. Then he felt it, a wave of emotion rolling off her. It floated over him and he knew she was as uncomfortable as he was, felt that she was torn between wanting to leave the room and wanting to stay.

'So...your clothes?' she said, her voice sounding a bit strained.

'Right,' said Harry, blinking, and he opened his chest of drawers as Ginny came up to stand next to him. He could smell vanilla on her skin, and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to touch her hair, which was loose and falling down her back in shiny copper waves.

She poked through jumpers and button down shirts and jeans and dress trousers.

'Hmm,' she murmured, and she pulled out a pair of black trousers, a blue jumper and his school tie. She took a deep breath and was suddenly all business. 'I think I could do something with these. And your dress robes. Do you mind going as Robert Devereux?'

'Who's that?' said Harry.

'One of Elizabeth's subjects,' said Ginny. 'She fell in love with him, but he hacked her off one too many times so she had him beheaded.' She grinned cheekily, and Harry felt another touch of emotion from her; she was trying to be light, trying to put a bit of distance between them. He felt disappointed, but he followed her lead and kept his own voice light.

'Ouch,' he said. 'Is that what you'll do to me if I make you angry tonight?'

'I might,' she said, putting her hands on her hips.

Harry grinned. 'Are you going to order me about, make me kiss your ring and stuff?'

Ginny scoffed. 'No, I'll leave the bossy female bit to Hermione.'

'Good idea,' said Harry.

'Speaking of which,' said Ginny, 'wait 'til you see what she's making Ron wear.'

'I've been trying to get that out of him all week,' said Harry. 'What is it?'

Ginny narrowed her eyes. 'I think I'll let you see for yourself. Just prepare to laugh.'

'Are you sure I don't look...effeminate?' Harry asked the mirror, as he tugged as his collar.

Ginny had transfigured his trousers into leggings, a pair of his shoes into leather boots that went over his knees, and his tie and blue jumper into a rich velvet tunic with crimson and gold silk embroidery. His dress robes she had charmed to appear as a crimson cape, which he wore draped over one shoulder. She had even charmed her broom to be a gleaming sword tucked inside a scabbard, which was attached to a rich leather belt that he had fastened round his waist. She'd dropped off the clothes in a rush and had hurried off to get herself ready.

'You look smashing, dear,' said the mirror. 'Very manly.'

_Yeah, right,_ he thought. _Didn't these Renaissance blokes ever hear of real trousers? Leggings, I ask you._

_Well, the sword helps, and at least it's not a dress._

'You might ask your red-haired girlfriend to do something about your hair, though,' said the mirror. 'It's far too modern and...messy.'

'She's not my girlfriend,' said Harry quickly, but somehow, saying the words annoyed him.

Harry found himself pacing. Ron and Hermione had gone to the Great Hall early to oversee the final preparations, so Harry still didn't know what their costumes were. Ginny was five minutes late.

_What is it with girls; can't they ever be on time? Dramatic entrance my eye. They just like to keep blokes waiting, torture them a bit, make them wonder if they haven't changed their minds..._

Harry heard a creaking on the girls' staircase and looked up, and he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Ginny was descending the stairs, wearing a dress that by rights should have overwhelmed her, so full were the sleeves and massive the skirts, and yet it fit her perfectly, and it was ivory in color, but threaded through with bits of pale gold satin. The bodice dipped low in the front, revealing a smooth expanse of creamy, freckled skin and the swell of her lush bosom; the collar of the dress was high in back and reminded Harry of an elaborate, golden spider's web. Her hair was pulled up in a complicated style, and there were pearls all along her hairline. Her skin was whiter than usual, and her lips were blood red. She looked almost like a ghost, alabaster and unearthly. But she was beautiful, stark and beautiful and Harry felt like his heart had stopped.

She reached the foot of the stairs and smiled shyly at him.

'Wow,' Harry breathed. 'That's...you look...really beautiful.'

Her cheeks--white as a pearl--went pink, and she smiled. 'Thanks,' she said. 'You look nice, too.'

'My mirror said my hair was messy,' said Harry, blushing. 'Maybe you could fix it, or something.'

'I like your hair the way it is,' said Ginny. She pressed her red lips together and took a deep breath, which caused her breasts to rise and fall. Harry tried not to look.

He looked.

'Shall we go?' said Ginny.

'What?' said Harry, blinking. 'Oh, right.'

_That's smooth, Potter. Don't be obvious or anything._

_I can't help it. They're right there and they look really, really nice._

He blinked again and offered her his arm, and they left the common room for the ball.

'Wow, this place looks incredible,' said Ginny, as they entered the Great Hall. Small tables were set up everywhere. Jack-o'-lanterns floated in the air, and the Hogwarts ghosts floated about the room; the Fat Friar passed through Harry and gave him a chill, causing his body to jerk slightly.

'I hate when they do that,' he muttered. Ginny giggled softly.

'Hey, there's Ron,' said Ginny, pointing to a far corner of the room.

Harry followed her gaze and saw the tall redhead standing near the end of the High Table; he was surrounded. By girls.

Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

'What's that about?' Harry asked.

'Oh, look, there's Colin,' said Ginny with a smirk. Colin had on some kind of loud zoot suit and was standing next to a very pretty girl wearing a flapper dress.

'That's Eloise Midgen?' said Harry.

'Not only is her acne all cleared up, she got her nose fixed,' said Ginny.

'I'm glad Colin's with her,' Harry blurted

'You are?' said Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Harry, and he felt his neck get hot. 'That means you're my date. Er, partner.'

Ginny smiled and slipped her hand into his, and he felt tingles as her fingers intertwined with his.

'Harry, Ginny!' someone called. They looked up and saw Hermione striding toward them. Harry had to admit she looked quite lovely; like Ginny, she also wore an elaborate Renaissance dress, but hers was in a rich blue with blue and gold brocade; her hair had been tamed into submission with, Harry guessed, copious amounts of Sleakeazy Hair Potion, and put up into a style similar to Ginny's.

'Hi, Hermione,' said Ginny. 'Or perhaps I should say, hi Cousin.'

Hermione laughed shortly, but the laugh didn't reach her eyes.

'Cousin?' Harry asked.

'Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary were cousins,' Hermione explained. 'Mary was Queen of Scotland, you know that, and Elizabeth eventually had her beheaded, for treason.'

Harry gave Ginny a look. 'Elizabeth was pretty bloodthirsty, wasn't she?'

'It's not her fault she had enemies,' Ginny said loftily, smiling at Hermione, but Hermione looked very annoyed about something. Judging by where Hermione's eyes were now fixed, that something was Ron.

'What's up, Hermione?' Harry asked.

'Honestly,' she huffed. 'Look at them, like a swarm of insects. They haven't left him alone from the moment they arrived.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged another glance and grinned. By now, several more girls had joined the crowd surrounding Ron; they were mostly younger, by the look of them. They had so thoroughly circled him that Harry couldn't see what Ron was wearing; only that it was blue and some sort of elaborate jacket.

'Well, he is Head Boy, Hermione,' said Ginny. 'He's got to...mingle a bit.'

Hermione snorted. 'That's not mingling, that's...holding court. Over a harem, or something!'

'He's not the only one,' said Ginny, nodding in a different direction. 'Since when did Ernie MacMillan get a fan club?'

Harry and Hermione looked over to see Ernie MacMillan also surrounded by a passel of girls; not as numerous as Ron's crowd, but enough that Hannah Abbott looked very disgruntled as she followed behind him.

'Oh!' said Hermione furiously, drawing Harry's attention away from Ernie and back to Ron. 'That's it, this has gone too far.' She stormed off in the direction of Ron and Harry saw what she meant; two of the girls were grabbing onto Ron's hands and giving him rather adoring looks By now, Ron no longer looked bemused by the female attention, but a bit scared. Hermione appeared a moment later. She grabbed Ron's right arm away from a fourth year Ravenclaw girl's, said something sharp, and dragged Ron out of the pile of girls, all of whom looked daggers at her.

Extricating themselves from Ron's new female fan club, he and Hermione headed over to a table and Harry finally got a look at Ron's costume. He almost laughed, but then he saw the group of girls all ogling Ron.

'He's wearing a bloody _skirt_,' said Harry. 'And those girls...'

'Look like they want to attack him,' said Ginny dryly. 'Don't ask me what that's about. I mean, this is my brother. Not like he's handsome or anything.'

'Ernie's wearing one, too!' Harry said, nodding in Ernie's direction; the girls had moved off, and he and Hannah were engaged in a conversation that involved Hannah gesticulating furiously and Ernie putting his hands up as if to soothe her.

'Looks like Weasley and MacMillan have fan clubs,' said a voice. Harry and Ginny turned to see Seamus Finnigan, wearing a simple 1920s suit and carrying a bowler hat.

'What's that about?' said Harry. 'They're wearing skirts and the girls are going mad.'

'I know,' said Seamus. 'Girls go mad for a man in a kilt. If I didn't think it would hack Lavender off, I'd wear one meself.'

'Who are you supposed to be?' Ginny asked.

'Michael Collins,' said Seamus. 'Lemme guess. Queen Elizabeth and one of her consorts.'

Harry and Ginny blushed and exchanged glances.

'Close enough,' said Ginny.

'Good lord, there's the Slytherins,' said Seamus.

Harry glanced across the room and saw a pack of Slytherin seventh years. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were standing apart from them; Draco wore the black dress robes that made him look like a vicar, but neither he nor Pansy appeared to have bothered with actual costumes. Daphne appeared to be dressed as Queen Victoria--and she looked lovely--but Harry couldn't make out the other Slytherins' costumes. Theodore Nott held court with Crabbe and Goyle; Goyle had Millicent as a partner; Nott was with a nervous sixth year Slytherin Harry didn't know; Crabbe also had a sixth year on his arm.

It was then that Harry's eyes met Malfoy's; Malfoy's lip curled into a sneer, but then he turned his gaze to Ginny, and his expression changed at once. Longing, but wolfish. He turned back to Harry and sneered again.

Ginny didn't seem to notice Malfoy's glare. Harry turned to her.

'Let's go join Ron and Hermione, shall we?'

'If you're going to spend the whole ball hanging around those girls--'

'It was your idea for me to wear this get-up!'

'I didn't know it would make you act like a...like a lothario!'

'A what?'

'A pig, Ron Weasley!'

'Oh, I'm acting like a pig? Just because I'm being friendly?'

'Friendly? That wasn't friendly, that was flirting!'

Harry and Ginny groaned and exchanged looks with Neville and Luna (who were dressed as Merlin and Morgan Le Fey, respectively). Dinner and pudding had come and gone, and now the four of them were counting the seconds until the music started, and they could find an excuse to escape the table.

'Are they like this all the time?' Neville muttered.

Harry smirked. 'Well, not all the time, but this is pretty normal.'

'I'd suggest switching tables,' Ginny said in a low voice, 'but there's nowhere to go now.'

'They'll work it out,' said Luna dreamily. 'They always do.'

'I am not jealous, Ron!'

'Oh yeah, you're just thrilled that those other girls were talking to me.'

'Talking? Is that what they were doing when they were hanging all over you like a cheap suit?'

Harry put his head in his hands and was just about to say something when the music started up. Lee Jordan had come back to deejay the ball (the Weird Sisters were on hiatus after the bassist Donaghan Tremlett's wife had a baby). Lee chose a slow tune to start up the dancing.

'Come on, let's dance,' said Ginny quickly, grabbing Harry's hand. Neville and Luna immediately followed suit, leaving Ron and Hermione huffing at one another.

Harry nervously put one hand on her waist and took her hand with his other. She rested her free hand on his shoulder, and they began to dance. Well, it wasn't dancing so much as swaying, and it was a bit awkward, and for a good thirty seconds neither of them said a word or even looked at one another, although Harry found himself stealing glances at Ginny's lips, her hair, her cleavage...

At that moment, Neville and Luna glided by.

'Looks like they've made up,' he said, nodding past Harry and Ginny.

Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione on the dance floor; her head was resting on his chest and their arms were round each other; they looked as though they thought they were the only ones in the room.

'That was a quick row,' said Ginny.

'They've got it down to a science at this point,' said Harry.

'If those two weren't so mad for each other they might have killed each other by now,' said Ginny, smiling.

'They still might,' said Harry.

'No, they won't,' said Ginny. 'It's like Mum and Dad reborn, really.'

'You noticed that, too?' said Harry.

They both laughed, and kept on dancing, and by the end of the song, she was very close to him; he could feel her breath on his face, and the hand on her back had crept up, and then back down, and their intertwined fingers where their free hands were joined were resting on his chest.

She licked her red lips and Harry felt his whole body tingle and tighten and he realized he very badly wanted to kiss her, their no-dating agreement be damned, when suddenly the music changed and a driving, fast tune came on.

'Oh,' said Ginny, flushing, 'do you want to keep dancing?'

'I'm not really any good,' said Harry.

'It's okay,' said Ginny, 'I'm not either.'

Harry nodded; he didn't really want to dance. He suddenly wanted to leave, with her, and find one of those rosebushes that students hid in, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Then he felt her emotions, he always felt them when she was touching him, and he knew she wanted the same thing, to leave the ball and be alone with him, but a part of her held back, a part of her resisted. He knew she was scared, he knew she didn't want a repeat of the first time they'd kissed, when it had ended with his scar burning and her body hurting from the contact. He didn't want that either, and yet...

He felt her tug on his hands and they started to dance; she was more graceful than she had let on, and he was as clumsy as he'd admitted himself to be, but he gave himself over to the dancing, if only to keep his mind off what he really wanted to do with her. It worked only up to a point.

Two hours later the ball was in full swing, and Harry was quite sure he'd had a few glasses of spiked punch, judging by the warm, happy, slightly loopy mood he was in. He wondered if Hermione would have kittens about the spiked punch, but he noticed she had avoided it and was drinking only water.

Most of the teachers were there, uncostumed, but in dress robes. Snape scowled through most of the evening, drinking no punch at all. Professor McGonagall didn't wear a costume, but had decorated her hat with an ugly wreath of miniature jack-o'-lanterns. Grubbly-Plank was engaged in a rousing conversation with Sprout; both were smoking pipes and guffawing about something, and Harry swore he saw the two women passing a flask back and forth. Harry stopped looking at them, because doing so reminded him that Hagrid was still away, doing some mission for the Order that nobody knew about. Professor Sinistra sat next to Snape; now and again, they would talk in a stiff, formal way. Professor Vector was trying to find a graceful way to stop conversing with Professor Binns, who appeared to be talking her ear off about something that was nearly putting her to sleep. Harry noticed the Dumbledore wasn't there, and this bothered him somewhat, but then he figured perhaps the former Headmaster had decided to retire early.

_That must be it, he's old, he's tired, he needs his rest._

The other noted absence was that of Professor Hopkirk. Harry couldn't help but feel relieved. Her presence was unsettling enough in a classroom setting. He couldn't imagine how she would be in a social circumstance.

He and Ginny took a break from dancing and sat outside in the cold, sharp night air, hoping to cool themselves off. They stayed out long enough for Harry to notice the way the creamy skin of Ginny's bosom was now flushed with exertion, and then they went inside, but he was delighted when she slid her hand into his and their fingers intertwined. He was having a good time, a great time, and as the evening had gone on he had felt it--something was happening between him and Ginny, something he couldn't define, but he knew before the evening was over that things would be different between them, and in a good way. He had felt her emotions all evening, and he'd felt her relaxing, felt her relief that touching him hadn't so far caused any flashes of pain for either of them.

He talked briefly with Lee Jordan, who informed him that business at the joke shop was doing so well that he and the Weasley twins were moving into a bigger flat. He danced with Hermione and Luna, and Ginny danced with Ron and Neville (who was still trodding on feet), but for most of the night, Harry and Ginny were together. At some point in the evening Ron and Hermione disappeared for a while and then came back, looking slightly disheveled but happy about something.

The one blight on the evening was Malfoy, who seemed determined to turn staring at Ginny into something of an art. When he danced with Pansy, he stared at Ginny over the other girl's shoulder. When he sat down with Pansy, his eyes fell on Ginny. Ginny noticed, but ignored it so fiercely, that when she took Harry's hands in her own, he managed to ignore it, too. That was Ginny's power, to drive out the unpleasant feelings in his mind. Only now, it didn't seem to be hurting her anymore.

They danced some more, and talked a lot. She made him laugh, and she listened.

_What was I thinking, messing about with Daphne and Parvati, when there's Ginny?_

Before he knew it the evening was winding down, and it was getting close to midnight. Harry couldn't remember having quite so good a time at a ball. Not even last year with Susan had been so much fun.

It shouldn't have surprised him that everything would come crashing down.

Lee Jordan was playing the last song of the evening. By now, the Great Hall was almost empty, and only couples remained, dancing listlessly to a slow tune. Most of the students had given up and gone to bed, some to sleep off the effects of spiked punch. The only people left were Padma and Anthony, Neville and Luna, and Malfoy and Pansy; Malfoy hadn't stopped gazing longingly at Ginny, but if Pansy noticed, she didn't let on. Harry and Ginny ignored him, and they didn't so much dance as hold onto each other; he wanted so badly to kiss her, and she knew it. But he didn't, not with Ron in the room, not here. And yet, neither of them could seem to find the will to move, either, to go somewhere private.

Nonetheless, Harry's hand moved up and down Ginny's back, and her fingers played idly with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers up and down his spine, and he felt her breath on his skin, and he was about to whisper something to her, to tell her something important, that he needed to talk to her, to find out what was going on between them, that he wanted to kiss her, when he heard a gasp, followed by a crash.

Harry and Ginny broke apart to see the cause of the commotion.

'Ron!' Hermione cried, and Harry's eyes widened to see Ron on his knees, bent over and clutching his head.

_Oh, shit, he's having a vision..._

He and Ginny rushed over to Ron's side; Hermione was on her knees as well.

'Ron,' Harry muttered, gripping the taller boy's shoulder, but Ron was shaking and his eyes were shut and he didn't seem to hear anyone. Harry looked up and saw Malfoy and Pansy watching the proceedings; Pansy looked particularly frightened and clutched at Malfoy's arm.

'What's happening?' Neville asked.

Harry gave him a look and shook his head; he couldn't say it out loud, not with Padma, Anthony, Pansy and Malfoy in the room. By now, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape had hurried over as well.

'Stand back,' McGonagall barked, and the two Ravenclaws and the two Slytherins backed away, but Malfoy positioned himself to get a clear view of Ron, who had opened his eyes and was now panting and sweating and trying to swallow.

'What is it Weasley?' she asked urgently.

Ron looked up at her, and his eyes were slightly glazed but full of fear. He didn't speak, but it looked like he didn't even need to.

'Right,' said McGonagall at once. 'Let's get you to the hospital wing, then.'

'What's wrong with him?' Pansy asked, and the usual sneer in her voice was nowhere to be found.

'Nothing that Madam Pomfrey can't fix,' said McGonagall firmly, fixing Pansy with a stern look that said 'don't ask questions.' She turned to Snape.

'Severus, if you would be so kind as to escort your students back to Slytherin,' she said.

'Of course, Headmistress,' said Snape, nodding, and then he turned to Draco and Pansy.

'Malfoy, Miss Parkinson,' he snapped. 'Come with me.'

Malfoy and Pansy obeyed, but as they left, Draco passed his eyes over Ginny once more, before locking them first on Ron, who was dragging himself up with the help of Hermione and McGonagall, and then on Harry. Draco smirked before turning in a swirl of black dress robes and following Snape from the room. Two Aurors went after them.

'Filius, would you--'

'Of course, Minerva,' said Professor Flitwick, and he nodded to Padma, Anthony and Luna and gestured for them to follow him back to Ravenclaw. Another two Aurors left.

Once they were out of the room, and the only people left were McGonagall, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Neville, and the remaining Aurors, who hung back against the far walls of the Great Hall.

Then McGonagall spoke to Ron. 'What happened, Weasley?'

'Something's going to happen,' he rasped. 'Hermione, your parents...and Dean's...and Justin's...'

Hermione blanched. Harry felt Ginny clutch his arm.

McGonagall took a sharp breath, but kept her voice steady. 'Are you all right to walk, Weasley?'

Ron nodded.

'We're going to Dumbledore's office,' she said.

She started to lead them out. Hermione was shaking now, and she and Ron were practically holding one another up. Nobody said a word; nobody could speak.

Harry felt himself put his arm around Ginny and followed them out.

_It's okay. Ron's had visions before. We'll tell Dumbledore, and he'll get the word out, and everything will be fine. Everything will be fine._

But as they left the Great Hall, Harry felt a sudden sting in his scar, and he heard Voldemort raging inside his mind.

'Harry,' Ginny whispered. 'What is it?'

_She feels it, too._

'Nothing,' Harry lied. 'It's nothing.'

But when he looked into her eyes, he knew that she knew he was lying. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and Harry wondered if Ron's vision had come in time.

**A/N: A succubus and an incubus are "real" demons that has theological connotations, in particular with the Catholic church during the Middle Ages and the Inquisition. **


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine: A Loss

**A/N: Just to avoid confusion, this chapter splits between Harry's and Ron's POV.**

_ Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Loss_

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville were in Dumbledore's office; he sat at his desk and McGonagall stood to one side, opposite Fawkes, who was looking like he might be coming close to his next burning day.

But if Fawkes looked old and tired, he was nothing compared to Dumbledore. Harry gazed at Dumbledore with a sick heart; the old wizard wasn't just frail and old looking. He looked ill, shrunken. He had lost weight; quite a lot of it, judging by the way his robes hung on him. His bright blue eyes had become glazed; his skin had become sallow, giving him a jaundiced look. His breathing was shallow and wheezing. Harry was so focused on Dumbledore he barely heard Ron recount his vision.

'...attacks on their parents,' Ron was saying. 'I don't know when it's supposed to happen.'

_Why the hell are we here, disturbing Dumbledore's rest? He's sick, he should be in hospital, he shouldn't be listening to this stuff, McGonagall can take care of it..._

'Thank you, Mr. Weasley,' said Dumbledore weakly, and Harry felt another pang at the former Headmaster's slow, labored speech. 'Minerva, would you...be so kind as to tell Severus...'

'Of course,' she said briskly, but her eyes were pained, and as she swept out of the room, she cast one sad glance back at Dumbledore before leaving.

'Thank you, Ron, for...telling me about this,' said Dumbledore. 'I am sure...the necessary steps...will be taken to protect...the parents. We will of course...keep everyone informed...of what happens.'

Ron and Hermione nodded; Hermione was clutching Ron's hand so hard it looked like it hurt, but Ron didn't seem to notice.

'Sir, are you...are you all right?' Neville asked timidly.

Dumbledore smiled at Neville with tired, watery eyes.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'Just a bit of influenza.' He glanced at Ron, who was looking at his feet.

'We shouldn't have bothered you, sir,' he said.

'Don't be silly, Mr. Weasley...' said Dumbledore. 'It's not a bother. But perhaps...you should turn in...it is unlikely we'll hear anything tonight...but we will let you know first thing tomorrow...the parents will be...kept safe...'

Hermione bit her lip; her eyes were shiny with tears, and she, Ron and Neville started out of Dumbledore's office. Ginny started to go, tugging at Harry's hand. Harry swallowed and began to follow her.

'I wonder...' said Dumbledore, 'if I could have a word...with Harry.'

Ginny and Harry exchanged looks. Harry's heart was clenching so painfully he thought he might have a heart attack. Whatever Dumbledore had to say wasn't going to be pleasant. Harry had a feeling he knew what it might be. What had started out as a great evening had become one of the worst of his life. How was it that things could go from wonderful to horrible so quickly? Was it some kind of cruel joke?

'I'll wait up for you,' Ginny whispered, squeezing his hand. He felt her power radiate up his arm and into his heart, and the pain there eased a bit as she soothed him.

'Thanks,' he said, and he watched the retreat of her red hair as she left.

'You...care about her...a great deal,' Dumbledore said, his voice breaking the silence like shards of glass shattering.

Harry turned to Dumbledore.

'Yeah,' he said.

'I am...not surprised...' said Dumbledore. 'Miss Weasley is an exceptional...young woman...and you both have...a shared history.'

'It's not just that,' said Harry.

'I know, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I was young once, too. A very, very long time ago.'

Harry swallowed as Dumbledore shifted painfully in his chair. His hands were trembling slightly.

'Sir...you're not well,' said Harry slowly, pushing past the lump in his throat.

'No, I am not,' said Dumbledore. 'I am dying, Harry.'

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself not to lose control. He knew it was true, there was no disguising the slow decay of the former Headmaster. He had known Dumbledore was dying the moment he'd seen the old man hobble slowly, painfully into his office. But to hear the words...

'You can't be,' said Harry, his eyes opening.

'I am,' said Dumbledore softly, and despite his wavering tone, the wheezing of his breath, his voice was firm, unrelenting.

Harry approached Dumbledore's desk.

'You can go to St. Mungo's,' he said desperately. 'Surely they can...they can cure you. If it's just a bad case of influenza, surely there's something they can do. I'll take you there myself--'

'Harry,' said Dumbledore, and he lifted one thin, bony hand in a gesture meant to stop Harry's babbling.

Harry was breathing hard now, as the reality of everything was hitting him. He felt his knees turn to liquid and he sank into the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk.

'You can't...die, sir,' he begged, and he knew he sounded pathetic. 'You can't.'

'Unfortunately, I do not...have a choice in the matter,' said Dumbledore.

'Yes, you do,' said Harry angrily. 'You could put yourself in hospital, you could--'

'Harry...my time is over,' said Dumbledore. 'I am 154 years old. I have lived a full, long life. But it is time for me to let go. I am...tired. And...I am ready.'

'I'm not,' Harry bit out, and he stood up and began to pace as his anger overtook him. It was just like at the end of fifth year, when Sirius had died. Harry wanted to break things, he wanted to destroy the office, he wanted to shake Dumbledore, make him understand.

'What am I supposed to do? I can't...I still don't know how to beat him...you can't leave me now, I need your help--'

Harry's voice broke when he saw Dumbledore smile at him.

'You no longer need me, Harry,' he said. 'If I thought...you did, believe me, I would...fight. I would go...to hospital and...allow myself to be...hooked up to any contraptions, take any...medicines needed to prolong my life. But you do not need me anymore.'

'How can you say that?' Harry yelled.

'You're a man, now, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'And...you know what you have to do...to defeat him--'

'Bollocks, I do!' Harry barked. 'I don't know anything--'

'You have...all that you need to figure it out,' Dumbledore wheezed, 'is what...I meant to say. Your friends will help you. Professor...Hopkirk can...help you. But there is nothing more I can do...or tell you.'

Harry stared at him but his throat was closed again, he couldn't talk.

'I told you,' said Dumbledore, 'nobody lives forever. I...I have seen my end, and it is close.'

'No,' said Harry, shaking his head, as tears burned at his eyes. He fought them.

'I will still...be around...in a way,' Dumbledore went on, as if he hadn't heard Harry. 'I will still see you, Harry...just as your parents see you...just as Sirius sees you...they are all watching over you...even though you cannot...see them. That is how I will be.'

The tears came anyway, coursing silently down Harry's cheeks.

'Death is nothing to be feared, Harry,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'Death is...but the next...great adventure.'

Harry couldn't speak. He could hardly make a sound. He didn't bother to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes. There was a hole in his heart now. Dumbledore was leaving him. Just like everyone else.

'I must...retire,' said Dumbledore weakly. He got up slowly, and he looked to be in pain. 'You need your rest, too, Harry.'

Harry nodded dumbly and started out of the office; he didn't really notice he was walking, only that his feet were moving him. When he reached the office door, he remembered something, something from Sirius's letter. He wiped his eyes beneath his glasses.

'Sir,' he asked, not turning around.

'Yes, Harry?'

'How long?' he asked. 'How long do you think...until...'

'I don't know,' said Dumbledore. 'A day, a week...a month at most...'

Harry pressed his lips together and took a deep breath.

'You'll let me know,' he said. 'When it's time.' He turned to look at Dumbledore and spoke thickly, through the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. 'You'll let me say goodbye?'

Dumbledore watched him for a moment, and a single tear trickled down his cheek and into his beard.

'Of course,' he said at last.

* * *

Harry didn't remember walking back to the common room. He didn't notice the Auror who walked several paces behind him. He didn't hear himself mutter the password to the fat lady, who was awake and tipsy again and talking in slurring tones to her friend Vi.

He didn't feel his feet as he clambered through the portrait hole, nor the warmth of the fire that was still crackling in the hearth. His eyes were unfocused and dry now, and his heart was like lead in his chest.

'Harry?'

The sound of her voice brought him back to himself. He looked up and saw her standing near the fire; the firelight was making her hair almost sparkle. She had changed out of her costume, and it was only then that Harry realized he was still in his, the clothing she'd transfigured. She wore a white cotton dressing gown and pale blue slippers, and her hair was loose. Her face was clean and scrubbed. She looked beautiful.

'Hi,' he croaked.

'Is your scar still hurting?' she asked.

'No, it was just...that little bit,' he said.

'Are you okay?' she asked, and she unconsciously picked up the tie to her robe and began to clutch at it.

'Not really,' he said, and he clenched his teeth at the sensation of tears behind his eyes again. He felt like a human hosepipe, and yet when Ginny gave him a sad, understanding look and dropped the tie of her robe and held out one hand to him, beckoning him over, his feet again took over and propelled him forward, and in a matter of two seconds he enveloped her in a crushing hug and buried his face in her hair, and he cried.

She whispered soft, soothing words to him that he didn't quite hear, and he felt her steer them both to the sofa and sit down, and still he clung to her, and then he felt her place a hand against his forehead, and she was using her power now, she wasn't holding back, she was taking the worst of his pain, the part that was ripping his heart and she was taking it inside herself.

'Ginny...' he whispered, and finally she pulled back, and her face was wet with her tears, and she still looked beautiful.

'You didn't have to,' he said, brushing tears away with this thumbs.

'I wanted to,' she whispered. For a long moment they sat, looking into one another's eyes, saying nothing, and there was no sound but the crackle of the fire. Harry remembered the night they had kissed, remembered the talk they'd had afterward, remembered all the times in the past few months she had told him to be happy, to date other girls, not to bog himself down with her, because she was complicated, and he shoved it all away. He didn't want other girls. He couldn't have fun with other girls. He couldn't be with other girls. He could only be with her, he wanted to bog himself down with her, he wanted her because she challenged him and made him laugh and took his pain away and made his blood race just from looking at her. He wanted her...he...

_I'm falling in love with her._

Ginny took his hands in hers; she was looking into his eyes, reading the storm of emotions he felt, feeling it right back with him, but she was still afraid.

'He's dying, isn't he?' she asked.

Harry felt her pull away in asking that question, but he nodded.

'Yeah,' he said.

Ginny nodded, too, and a tear slipped down her cheek. 'He helped me, you know,' she said. 'Back in my second year. I was kind of a mess and...and he let me come to his office and talk to him. He just listened and...and he was the one who convinced me what Riddle made me do...wasn't my fault.'

'I didn't know that,' said Harry.

Ginny looked at him. 'I'll miss him, too.'

Harry felt another wave of anguish and pulled her close.

'I dunno what I'm going to do without him,' he admitted, whispering into her hair. 'He says I don't need him...he's wrong...I dunno what to do...'

'I know,' Ginny murmured, and she stroked his hair, and he felt another soft brush of warmth from her, from the power that she stretched over him like a blanket. They held each other for a while, and Ginny worked her powers over them, and Harry surrendered to it, knowing in that moment that he could never feel so close to anyone as he would to her.

Her breath was on his neck and she pulled back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, until she was looking into his eyes again, and they were beautiful and sparkling in the firelight, and she brushed her lips across his hesitantly.

Just that simple touch made his blood almost boil; she felt it, too, and for a moment she hesitated, but then she kissed him again, pressing her lips more firmly against his own, cupping his face in her small hands. She pulled away once more, her lips an inch from his, and he kissed her, and for a long time they kissed like this, soft, short kisses that became longer and longer. Kisses that tested her powers, kisses that made him strain against the leggings he wore. And yet there was no sign of pain, in her or in his scar. There was only pleasure, and an ache, an ache that filled Harry's body with need. He had to kiss her deeper, he had to taste her mouth...

Slowly, he parted his lips against hers, and he let out a soft groan when it was she who flicked her tongue against his, and they began to explore, with their lips, their tongues, their mingled breath. Harry's hands wanted desperately to touch her everywhere, to know what her skin felt like, but he placed them in her hair, and it was silk in his fingers, and her hands were on his face, and he felt her power coursing through his body, filling him and strengthening him and weakening him all at once, and there was still no pain, no interference, from this perfect moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

She whimpered softly when he sucked lightly on her lower lip, and the sound made him moan and then he was kissing her harder, and she was kissing him back, taking what he had and returning it with equal fervor. They kissed on and on and Harry was aching inside his body, he was hard and needy and he wanted more, but he held back because he knew she was holding back, just a little, they were both praying they could just keep doing this...

'Harry...' Ginny gasped, breaking their kiss.

'Oh, god,' Harry panted. 'Did I hurt you?'

'No,' she said. 'I just...need to breathe.' She laughed, her laugh warmed him. 'I didn't hurt _you_, did I?'

'No,' he said, touching his scar, struggling to breathe himself. 'That was brilliant.'

She reached up and touched his face, and he closed his eyes, and he could feel her so completely inside his mind, his heart. He opened his eyes and stared into hers and took her hands in his.

'I can't just be your friend,' he blurted. 'I know you said we shouldn't...that I should see other people, but...I don't want anyone else...I was so stupid to waste my time on anyone else...I want you...'

She bit her lip--she had no idea what she did to him when she did that, the way it drove him crazy--and looked worried.

'Are you sure?' she said. 'Harry...you and I...it won't be easy and it won't always be fun--'

'Lots of things in my life aren't easy or fun,' he said, smiling.

'Harry,' she said, shaking her head and smiling, but her eyes were serious.

'I don't care,' he said, and he was serious now. 'I don't...I'd rather be with you and have everything be complicated than not be with you.'

'It might take me long time to get my powers totally under control,' she said.

'So I'll wait for you to figure it out,' he said. 'We'll go slow, we'll...we'll get to know each other more and...spend more time together...if you want to...'

She smiled and her eyes shone with tears. 'I do want that,' she said. 'I do.'

'Good,' he said, relieved and thrilled and elated and dizzy all at the same time. He smiled at her and their foreheads touched, and her hands made patterns over his shoulders, his back.

'You're still in your costume,' she said, smiling.

'I forgot,' he said, running his fingers over her cheeks, her collarbone, running his thumb over her swollen lower lip. 'I have to kiss you again,' he murmured, and he did, and she returned it, and they kissed for a long time, their mouths hot and seeking, her hands moving on his back, his hands in her hair, and when she broke off to breathe again, he moved his lips to her jaw, to the juncture of her jaw and neck and sucked gently at the skin. She gave another little moan, and he kissed her throat, teasing the skin gently with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. She even tasted of vanilla, sweet and heady.

His lips found the hollow at the base of her throat, and then moved back up to her mouth, and they kissed for another few minutes before Ginny pulled away.

She was panting when she said, 'We have to stop.'

He fought to regain his breath, to calm the raging in his crotch, and he nodded. 'You're right.'

'I just don't want to risk--'

'It's okay,' he said.

'It's not that I don't want to keep going--'

'Ginny, it's okay,' he said, putting a finger to her lips. 'It's okay. You're right, we shouldn't rush things.'

_Oh, sure. You talk a good game, Potter, but you know there's nothing you'd like better than to peel off that dressing gown and whatever she's got on under it and..._

_Down, boy!_

She smiled and embraced him, and for a long moment they held each other, letting the pounding of their hearts calm down, and he felt more emotions pouring out of her. Happiness, mostly. Even euphoria, tempered with the sadness of knowing about Dumbledore...

_Don't think about Dumbledore._

Ginny clutched him tighter, as if she'd felt that twinge of sadness in him, too, and it passed, and they lost themselves in each other for a while, just holding onto each other in the dark of the room that was lit with a dying fire.

At last, Ginny spoke. Her voice was muffled from burying it in Harry's shoulder.

'You realize what this means,' she said.

'What's that?' he asked, shivering slightly at the feel of her breath on his skin.

'We have to tell Ron,' she said.

Harry felt his spine stiffen, and she pulled back and grinned at him.

_Great.__ I get to tell my best mate I'm dating his sister._

'You're right,' he said, dreading how Ron would take it. On the one hand, he had basically set up Harry and Ginny's date. On the other hand...

'Maybe I should tell him,' said Ginny, at the same moment that Harry said, 'Maybe you should tell him.'

They both laughed, but then each became serious.

'I hope...Ron's vision...' Ginny began.

'Me, too,' said Harry.

'What about your scar?'

'It was just that flash of pain,' said Harry. 'Voldemort's angry. Maybe because Ron's visions have helped some of those foreign ministries prevent all those attacks. At least, that seems like a logical explanation. Don't you think?'

'That makes sense,' said Ginny, but she didn't sound completely convinced. Nonetheless he felt her resolve when she said, 'There's nothing we can do but wait and hear.'

* * *

Harry climbed into bed feeling exhausted and emotional. He was thrilled beyond belief about the prospect of Ginny being his girlfriend, depressed about Dumbledore, worried about Voldemort, anxious about Hermione's parents...

He fell asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow, all the same. He was simply too tired to keep his eyes open. He dreamed of a lot of things as the night wore on.

_He dreamed of Ginny, they were walking round the lake, holding hands. They stopped to kiss, and then they were in a room somewhere and she was lying on a bed, her blouse open, smiling up at him, and she kissed him, kissed so hard and thoroughly that he couldn't breathe, he needed to breathe, but she was possessing him, branding him with her mouth, and when he finally pulled away she was no longer Ginny but Griselda Hopkirk, smiling up at him with blood, his blood, on her lips, her eyes flashing red._

_'You are mine...' she whispered, and she rolled him over onto his back and she was tearing away his clothes, and he struggled, but not really, she was beautiful and she was drugging him with her voice, her mouth, her teeth...oh god..._

_'Harry...'_

_Ginny was there, she touched his forehead and Hopkirk was gone, and he opened his eyes and he was suddenly in a house..._

_And then he was awake again. He was tall and powerful and gazed at the world through red eyes, and he was furious. He had not known such fury in months. It was like acid in his veins, this anger._

_'This is the second time in as many weeks that my plans have been thwarted!' Harry screamed, in a shrill, high-pitched voice. 'What is the meaning of all this blundering? How are they learning of our plans?'_

_His eyes swept over the black-robed figures at his feet, all of whom were bent over, prostrating themselves._

_'Does no one have an answer for me?' Harry demanded._

_'My lord,' said a small voice, a female voice that was thin and frightened, 'I saw something.'_

_'Well,' said Harry, 'what is it?'_

_'I am not certain,' she said, never lifting her head to reveal her face, 'but I believe it might...be the answer to your question.'_

_'You speak in riddles, slave!' Harry hissed. 'I have no time for riddles. Speak plain or be silent!'_

_'I think,' said the girl, her voice shaking, 'I think they have--'_

_'Harry!' a voice yelled. A male voice. 'Harry, wake up!'_

Harry sat up sharply in bed and grabbed at his scar, which was prickling hotly.

'What?' he asked.

'It's Ron.'

'Ron?' Harry repeated, and he sat up.

'What's up with you?' said Ron. 'Your scar's hurting again?'

'What time is it?'

'Nine in the morning,' said Ron. 'Everyone else is at breakfast, I didn't know where you were, but Ginny mentioned you might be sleeping so I came up here.'

'Feels like I just went to sleep,' Harry grumbled.

'Listen, Harry, I got word from McGonagall,' said Ron, and he looked exhausted and relieved. 'They were able to...to get to everyone's parents and get them away. The Death Eaters were going to go after them this week, but...the Aurors are on it, and they've moved Hermione's parents.'

Harry let out a breath. 'How's Hermione?'

'She's okay,' said Ron, nodding. 'Shit, we're both exhausted...didn't get any sleep, she was pacing all night...'

Harry winced and put a hand to his forehead as his scar tingled again.

'Harry, your scar--' Ron began.

And suddenly Harry's dream came rushing back to him. He skipped the part involving Hopkirk--which made him feel a bit sick--and went right to the part involving Voldemort.

'I dunno who he was talking to,' said Harry. 'Some girl, at least it sounded like a girl, her voice was really small. I didn't see her face. But he's furious. That's why I think I had the dream...he's been blocking me out completely, but I think he got so angry he let his guard down. He knows something's up, but he can't say what it is, and his Death Eaters...oh shit, Ron. You woke me up before I could find out.'

Ron grimaced. 'Sorry, mate.'

Harry waved a hand. 'Forget it.' He paused, and then he considered. 'Listen, I'll meet you down in the Great Hall in a bit. I just want to try something.'

'Legilimency,' said Ron.

'Worth a shot, isn't it?' said Harry. 'Although I'm a bit out of practice.'

'Do you want me to...to stick around?'

'No,' said Harry. 'Go eat. I need to be alone to do this. I'll be fine.'

* * *

Later that afternoon Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were in Ron's room struggling through the codes. Or at least, Harry and Ron were. Ginny--who'd volunteered to take on some of Harry's load (much to Ron's annoyance, since Hermione wasn't doing the same for him)--seemed to be having little trouble. Hermione, of course, worked at lightning speed. After a few hours at it, Ron gave a disgusted grunt and threw down his quill.

'I give up,' said. 'I can't do this another second, or I'll go mad.'

Harry looked up and rubbed his forehead.

'Is your scar hurting again?' Hermione asked anxiously.

'No, this is a headache,' said Harry ruefully, and he looked about to say something else but before he could, Ginny reached over and placed a hand on his arm. Harry's face relaxed.

'Thanks,' said Harry, grinning at her.

Ron looked from Harry to his sister and back again, and the old suspicions flared up again.

'What's with you two?' he blurted.

'What?' said Harry.

'What?' said Ginny.

'You two,' said Ron. 'You're...you're weird.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'So are you,' she said.

'I mean,' said Ron, 'you're...different. Around each other.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances and they both blushed, and Ron's eyes widened.

_I knew it!_

'I knew it!' he said. 'What's going on?'

'Ron, if we tell you, you have to promise to remain calm,' said Ginny evenly.

'I can't promise that unless I know what it is,' said Ron.

'Ron,' said Hermione, shaking her head, but she didn't stop writing on her parchment. It was amazing, really, how she could write and listen at the same time.

'See, Ron...' Harry began awkwardly, '...how it goes is...er...'

'Harry and I are dating now,' Ginny said bluntly, and to emphasize the point, she leaned over and kissed Harry squarely on the mouth.

Ron's eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment.

_Okay. You can handle this. You can. Just don't think about the...the specifics...oh yuck._

_Be a man, Weasley. Your sister's seventeen in February, Harry's your best mate, he's good people, it's not like you didn't see this coming..._

'All right,' he said slowly. 'That's fine.'

Harry, Ginny and Hermione all gaped at him.

'That's it?' said Ginny. 'No, "if you mess with her, Harry, I'll beat you to a pulp"?'

'Harry's my best mate, I wouldn't do that,' said Ron, shrugging.

Harry snorted.

'Well, okay,' said Ron, 'yeah, I might hurt you a little if you mess with Ginny. But you won't, so...'

'Wow,' said Ginny. 'I'm impressed, Ron. You've come a long way since...well, since I was seeing Michael.'

This time Ron snorted. 'He wasn't good enough for you, and neither was Dean.'

Harry was trying not to smile, but not succeeding very well.

'Well, I'm very happy for you both,' said Hermione, and she hugged Harry and Ginny quickly. 'And I'm impressed, too, Ron that you're taking this so well.'

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at Harry and Ginny. 'Just do me a favor and don't tell me anything about what you two...do.'

'Ron,' Hermione hissed.

Harry and Ginny blushed, but Harry cleared his throat.

'Thanks, mate,' he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

Ron shrugged. 'I figure...there's more important things than for me to be protective with my friends about,' he said finally.

For a long moment nobody said anything, and finally Hermione spoke, and her voice was small and sad.

'Harry,' she asked, 'can I ask...what Dumbledore wanted--'

Harry looked up sharply at her, and then let out a breath. 'He's sick,' Harry said. 'And he's not going to get better.'

Ron swallowed, grateful at least that Dumbledore had finally told Harry the truth about his condition. Hermione pursed her lips.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' was all she said.

Harry nodded, and his throat was working, but he turned to look at Ginny and she smiled at him and took his hand, and the tense look on his face relaxed a little.

They continued to work on the codes in silence.

* * *

'All told, not very enlightening,' said Hermione, after dinner. They were now in the common room, which was quiet and otherwise empty, and Hermione was going through the pieces of parchment one by one. She sighed in frustration.

'Just back and forth messages with vague references to progress on the tests,' she said irritably. 'Nothing that tells us anything. Maybe your mum had to get more secretive as time went on; maybe there was a risk of Hopkirk's cover being exposed.'

She looked at Harry.

'There's nothing in your parent's letters?' she asked.

'Nothing so far, although I'm now at the part where my mum is three months pregnant and puking all the time,' said Harry dryly.

'Isn't there anything we can use?' Ginny asked. 'Anything at all?'

'Not what's here,' said Hermione crossly. 'You know what this means.'

'What?' Ron asked.

Hermione leaned forward. 'We might have to talk directly to Hopkirk about this,' she said.

'Oh, well, that's a relief,' said Harry. 'And I thought it would be something difficult.'

Ginny and Ron both chuckled, but Hermione sat back.

'Harry, it might be the only way,' she said. 'The information we have is drying up. I can spend some more time on Sanguen generare, but it might just be better to go the source, find out what she and your mum were doing.'

'I know, Hermione,' said Harry, holding up his hands. 'But...I don't fancy talking to her, is all.' Ron saw him shudder.

'There's also the fact that your scar hurt,' said Hermione. She pulled out the six pieces of parchment that comprised The List. 'And the dream you had, but Ron woke you before you could figure out who that Death Eater was.'

'I said I was sorry,' said Ron defensively.

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'Look, for all I know, Voldemort planted that dream in my head. It wouldn't be the first time.'

'Then you don't think he's angry?' said Ginny.

'Oh, he's angry,' said Harry. 'Right after Ron had his vision, my scar hurt, and that was definitely an accident. It was just like all those times in the past when he's let his guard down for just a second. But the dream...that could have been something he planned to throw us off.'

'He must suspect something by now,' said Hermione. 'Three times his plans have been messed up. He has to have thought about the possibility of a Seer by now, or a spy in his organization that's working both sides.'

'He knows about Snape and Karkaroff, though,' said Ron, and the instant he said it he winced.

_Oops, wasn't supposed to mention his name._

'Karkaroff?' said Hermione. 'He's involved?'

_Dammit!_

Ron groaned. 'I wasn't supposed to say anything, I completely forgot.'

'What?' said Harry, Ginny and Hermione.

Ron lowered his voice. 'Karkaroff is the bloke the Bulgarians were using as an informant. That's all. Don't say anything.'

'Well,' said Harry, 'that makes sense then. Voldemort being so angry. Karkaroff is the second person who's betrayed him, on top of Voldemort's plans getting so screwed up all over the place.'

'Where's Karkaroff now?' Hermione wondered.

'With Charlie,' said Ginny, in a low voice. 'Of course. That's why he went to Bulgaria, not for the dragons.'

'Ginny,' Ron hissed. 'Look, you can't say anything. When I told Dumbledore about that vision with what's her face Rosier, he made me swear not to say anything. I can't believe I let it slip. Good going, Weasley.'

'Ron, it's okay, nobody's going to say anything,' said Hermione quickly.

'Charlie's in this deeper than I thought,' said Ginny. 'I hope he's being careful.'

'Are you kidding?' said Ron. 'If mum knows about what he's doing, and she probably has some idea, you can bet he's being careful, because if he's not and he gets himself hurt, she'll kill him.'

It was two weeks into November and time for the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The weather had turned sharply colder just after Halloween, and there was now frost on the ground each morning. Harry had them practicing five nights a week now. Between the practices, Head Boy duties, homework, meditating, D.A. meetings and finding time to spend alone with Hermione, Ron was swamped, but somehow, he managed to fit everything in.

They agreed not to approach Hopkirk just yet with any questions, but that when they did, the four of them--Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny--would go together.

'Strength in numbers,' Ron said.

In the meantime, Hermione devoted a fair amount of her limited free time to researching more deeply on blood: blood diseases, blood cells, blood origins, everything. Ron had no idea how she was keeping everything in order, and he noticed that she had been a bit more tightly wound since the vision about her parents, a bit more fretful. She was writing to them almost every day now, and Ron had already resigned himself to spending a good portion of the Christmas holiday without her.

'I have to be with them this year, Ron,' she said. 'I just...need to.'

He hadn't protested; he knew she was right. But he would miss her all the same.

The Tuesday following the Halloween ball, _The Daily Prophet_ reported that another set of Death Eater attacks on Muggles had been prevented. Ron's mixture of relief and consternation continued; he still rather disliked the idea of being a Seer, on the one hand, but on the other hand, he was grateful, at least, that his gift was accomplishing some good in the real world. That fact only made him work harder, and he found himself taking his sessions with Firenze more seriously. Firenze, for his part, praised his progress and pronounced him 'genuinely talented'.

Ginny continued her training sessions with Malfoy; she wasn't pleased by them, she reported, but Draco was leaving her alone.

Ron had to agree. Apart from the occasional glances in the Great Hall at mealtimes, Draco seemed to spend almost the entirety of his spare time with Pansy Parkinson. She fawned over him, and he let her do it.

Then there were Harry and Ginny, together. Ron tried not to pay too close attention, but he couldn't help but observe them. They were both a bit shy around each other, a bit hesitant; it would always take a minute or two for one of them to take the other's hand. The first time Ginny gave Harry a peck on the mouth in the Great Hall, both of them blushed like mad and the rest of the Gryffindors sniggered. It reminded Ron of how he and Hermione had been once, back in their beginning, and he realized he envied Harry and Ginny just a bit. There was something rare and exciting about the first stages of a relationship, the sense of discovery.

_Yeah, well, don't think too hard about what they're discovering about each other or...yeah. Best not to think about that._

If Ron were honest with himself, though, he was glad that they were together. He'd never say this out loud, at least not with any enthusiasm--he didn't want Harry to be too relaxed about being Ginny's boyfriend--but he was glad of it nonetheless. They both seemed happier together than apart, and that was what mattered most. Ron squelched the minor, niggling concern in the back of his mind about what it meant for Ginny to be dating Harry, about the danger it might put her in and rationalized that she'd already been targeted by him twice, first through Riddle's diary and then at the Riddle House. Dating Harry wouldn't make a difference there.

_And it won't. Voldemort wants to kill half the people in __Britain__._

Of course, the fact that Ron was secretly pleased that Harry was dating his sister didn't mean he liked it one bit when he came into the common room late one evening to fetch a book he'd left behind and found them in the midst of an enthusiastic snog on the sofa. They were so caught up in what they were doing that Ron had to clear his throat--three times--to make them aware of his presence (in the interim Ron held his hand over his eyes to shield himself from seeing his best mate and his sister do...what they were doing).

Harry and Ginny had peeled themselves apart quickly and both of them looked very embarrassed.

'Sorry,' they both mumbled.

Ron looked at both of them and rolled his eyes.

'If I never see that again,' he said, 'it'll be too soon.'

Harry and Ginny seemed to take his words to heart and Ron never caught them again.

* * *

Lessons were no better, nor worse, than before. Ron kept his head down and stayed entirely out of trouble, and he noted with not a little pride that he had yet to receive a single detention.

'I should hope not, you're Head Boy,' said Hermione.

By the time the Quidditch match came around on the second Saturday in November, Ron was feeling far less overwhelmed by his life than he had when he'd first started school. He'd established his routine and he had to admit Hermione was onto something when it came to organizing one's day. It might get a bit tedious and he might not want to bother with everything all the time, but at least there was a comforting predictability to it, and he was pleased to find that he needed Hermione's help less and less on homework and his day to day activities. The other major benefit of a schedule, of course, was that it allowed more free time at the end of the day, to be with his friends, to be alone with his girlfriend. Ron was somewhat surprised they hadn't yet been caught breaking the no sex rule, but perhaps the teachers decided there were more important matters to be attending to, with Voldemort out and about, than chasing after fornicating students.

Security was to be very tight for the match; security trolls were to be posted at random places below the stands, and Aurors in the stands. McGonagall told Ron, Hermione and the prefects that the wards had been doubled around the grounds and the castle, as well.

'It's because of Dumbledore,' Hermione whispered. 'He's...well, when a wizard is dying the wards he creates weaken, so...so McGonagall's putting up her own.'

Ron nodded, but he didn't want to think about Dumbledore, who had remained inside his office, out of sight, since the night Ron and the others had reported to him the content of Ron's vision.

The morning of the match was cold and bright, and Harry, Ron and the rest of the team ate an early breakfast, opting to head down to the pitch early for a last minute warm-up fly.

When they reached the pitch, however, the Slytherins were already up in the air. Malfoy was flying a bit removed from the rest of his team; Nott, Crabbe and Goyle gave him dirty looks, but the team still flew as one. If there was any dissension in Slytherin House, it would not show up on the Quidditch pitch.

'Damn them,' Harry muttered. 'I booked the stupid pitch already.'

He was about to shout at the Slytherins to get out of the way when they all flew down and landed.

'Have at it, Potter,' said Malfoy.

'Thanks,' said Harry dryly, rolling his eyes when Draco turned round and stalked off to the Slytherin tent. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle gave Harry and Ron nasty looks. Blaise Zabini only regarded Harry and Ron coolly.

'Watch your back today, Potter,' Nott sneered, before he, too, went into the Slytherin tent, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

'Prats,' Ron muttered.

'Good luck, Potter, Weasley,' said Blaise. He gave them a curt nod and followed his teammates into the Slytherin tent.

'Let's go,' said Harry, and in a matter of moments, the Gryffindors were in the air. Ron flew over to the goal hoops and practiced some of his turns and rolls, leaving his hands free as though to catch a Quaffle. It felt good to be up there, even in the chill of the morning.

After fifteen minutes, the warm-up ended, and the Gryffindors returned to their tent for a last minute strategy session.

'Right,' said Harry. 'Figure eight formation today. Colin, Seamus, if you accidentally on purpose knock any of those gits off their brooms, don't sweat the penalties. Let's do it.'

Outside, Ron could hear the thunder of footsteps as the crowds entered the stands. The announcer's voice--Terry Boot--boomed about the stadium, and the doors to the pitch opened.

Harry flew out first, followed by the rest of the team, with Ron bringing up the rear. They mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air; Ron flew to the goal posts and hovered.

'Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season!' said Terry. 'It's Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Slytherin hasn't beaten Gryffindor in six years, and they're looking for a chance to break Gryffindor's winning streak. Madam Hooch has just entered the pitch. The Bludgers are released. The Snitch is released. And...the Quaffle's loose. The match begins!

'Ginny Weasley takes possession, she passes to Parvati Patil...nice fake out by Patil, she passes back to Lizzie Towler and she...SCORES! Ten points for Gryffindor. Now it's Slytherin in position, Nott has the Quaffle...nice flying, he dodges two Bludgers...he's going for goal...he MISSES, nice save by Ron Weasley.'

Ron smirked at Nott and hurled the Quaffle at Parvati, who caught it neatly in one arm, and the match continued. As expected, the Slytherins played dirty, and the Gryffindors--although they didn't cheat--did give back when they could. The penalties mounted, and the score climbed; Gryffindor maintained a decent lead over Slytherin, but the aggressive play of the Chasers, coupled with the constant attempts by Crabbe and Goyle to unseat Ron whenever they had a chance, made Ron's goalkeeping less than his best.

It was a good forty five minutes of hard playing before Terry suddenly shouted, 'Malfoy has spotted the Snitch.'

Ron caught the Quaffle again and chucked it to Ginny just in time to see Harry dive after Malfoy.

'Go on, Harry!' Ron yelled. He circled the goal posts, reminding himself to pay attention to what he was doing. Crabbe smacked a Bludger at him and Ron rolled out of the way, but the Bludger nicked him on the elbow. Seamus flew over and smacked the Bludger back at Crabbe, where it smacked him in the gut.

Hooch blew her whistle. 'Foul! Penalty to Slytherin.'

Blaise Zabini took possession of the Quaffle and headed toward Ron. Ginny dove at Blaise, swooping under him in a daring circle. Thus distracted, tiny Lizzie Towler flew in and smacked the Quaffle out of Blaise's hands, tossed it to Parvati, who caught it easily, and the three Chasers were headed back toward the Slytherin goal posts.

'Nice turnover by Gryffindor!' Terry Boot yelled. 'Malfoy and Potter still racing for the Snitch...'

_Come on, Harry. _

Malfoy and Harry were neck and neck, and ramming into one another with every opportunity. Ron forced his attention again back to Keeping, and just in time; Blaise Zabini hurled the Quaffle at the right hand hoop. Ron dove for it and caught it in two hands, his thighs gripping his broom tightly as he rolled over and righted himself.

Zabini grinned at him, as if impressed. Ron nodded and chucked the Quaffle to Lizzie, but something caught his eye in the next instant. It was Nott; he flew over to Goyle and snatched Goyle's bat out of his hand. Harry and Draco were still flying neck and neck, in relentless pursuits of the Snitch, which was bobbing and weaving like mad. Colin smacked a Bludger at the third Slytherin Chaser, who dodged it. Harry inched ahead of Malfoy, he stretched out his fingers toward the Snitch, he was almost there...

Nott smacked Colin's Bludger hard with Goyle's bat, and Ron watched in horror as it sped right at Harry, who was directly in the line of fire.

'Harry, look out!' Ron yelled. Ginny, who had just circled after having scored again on Slytherin, turned sharply at Ron's voice. Harry looked up to see the Bludger flying at him. Seamus smacked the second Bludger toward the first, hoping to stop it with a collision.

With the instincts of a natural born Seeker, Harry yanked his broom up out of the way, but it was too late. The Bludger caught him on the shoulder, hard, and he toppled from his broom; the crowd screamed and Ron, without thinking, flew toward Harry. Ginny was right behind him.

The impact sent the Bludger hurtling away, giving Malfoy the room he needed. Ron watched as Harry tumbled twelve feet to the ground and Malfoy's fingers closed around the Snitch.

Ron barely heard Terry Boot scream, 'Slytherin wins!' The Slytherins were all cheering happily, but the rest of the crowd was pouring out of the stands.

Ron landed hard and ran to where Harry was lying on the ground. He was conscious.

'Harry!' Ron said urgently. 'Are you okay?'

'Harry!' Ginny cried, and her face was stained with tears. The rest of his teammates were surrounding them now, and Hermione was shoving her way forward, with Professor McGonagall in tow.

Harry coughed; the wind had been knocked out of him. 'I'm okay,' he managed, and he gripped his shoulder, which Ron could see was swelling beneath his Quidditch robes.

'Fuck,' Harry hissed. 'I can't believe I didn't see that coming.'

'Language, Mr. Potter,' McGonagall scolded.

'I can't believe we lost,' said Parvati.

Harry looked up at her miserably.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'It's not your fault,' said Lizzie. 'We played a really good match.'

Ginny took Harry's hand in hers and smiled at him ruefully.

'You were brilliant,' she said.

'It's nobody's fault,' said Ron, although he was in agony at the thought of losing the match to Slytherin.

'Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey, Potter,' said McGonagall crisply.

* * *

Two hours later, the Gryffindors sat listlessly in the common room. Lunchtime had been something of an agony, with the Slytherins crowing relentlessly about their win. Harry's shoulder had been dislocated and bruised by the Bludger; Madam Pomfrey patched him up easily enough, but he had to wear a sling for a few days.

'Honestly,' Hermione huffed when they went to dinner that night, to find the Slytherins still gloating. 'You'd think they've forgotten they've been losing to us for six years.'

'And that this is only the first match of the season,' said Dennis Creevey.

None of this made Ron feel any better. Then Draco Malfoy came over to their table, with Pansy Parkinson in tow.

'Nice match, Potter,' he said, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Ginny, who had finished her meal and was heading back to the common room to study, leaned down and kissed Harry on the mouth. She left with her head held high. Malfoy's teeth were clenched

'You too, Malfoy,' said Harry, smirking. Hermione rolled her eyes, but Ron grinned. Malfoy glared at Harry and stalked off, the sweetness of his Quidditch victory clearly tempered by the fact that Ginny was now dating Harry.

'Honestly,' said Hermione. 'Men and their territorial bullshit.'

'Hermione, did you just swear?' said Harry.

'It's Ron's fault,' said Hermione.

'Guilty,' said Ron.

After dinner, Blaise Zabini stopped Harry and Ron on their way back to the common room.

'Listen Potter, Weasley,' he said. 'Sorry about my teammates being...'

'Prats?' said Harry and Ron together.

'Hey, go easy on us,' said Blaise. 'It's the first time we've beaten you in ages.'

'I'm glad someone remembers that,' said Ron.

'Anyway,' said Blaise smoothly, brushing off Ron's comment, 'I just wanted to say good match today. You're still the best flyer in the school, Potter.'

Blaise nodded, turned on his heel and walked away.

'That was weird,' said Harry.

'Slytherin politicking,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Got to promote interhouse unity and all.'

An hour later, Ron and Harry were slogging through yet another odious Potions essay. Ginny sat next to Harry with her legs stretched out over his lap. Ron sat on the hearth rug and Hermione in the chair right next to him. The common room was full, but quiet, and the mood was serious. Ron realized in the back of his mind that it was silly to dwell on their loss today. And all things considered, everyone on the team had taken it well, especially Harry, although Ron had a feeling Ginny had something to do with that.

At that moment, the portrait hole opened and Professor McGonagall came through.

'Potter,' she said, and her voice was hard, but her face was pale and her eyes were red rimmed.

Harry looked up and blanched.

'You need to come with me,' said McGonagall. 'All four of you.'

* * *

Ron stood outside the door to Dumbledore's office.

He was numb. He didn't know how long Harry had been in there. Only that it was far longer than he and Hermione had been in there. Ginny had stayed after the two of them were ushered out by McGonagall. Ron had so many questions to ask. Where were the members of the Order? Why weren't they here? The only people in the room had been McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Flitwick, and them. But Hermione knew the answer, knew why Remus Lupin hadn't come, or Ron's parents, or Madam Bones. They wouldn't want it broadcast that Dumbledore was...

_Dying.___

Dumbledore hadn't said all that much to him, or to Hermione. He was so weak and hopeless looking, in a great oak bed that seemed to swallow him.

'Take care...of Harry...and yourselves...' Dumbledore had managed. 'He is lucky...to have you...and you are lucky...to have each other.'

That was it. Those were the last words Ron would ever hear the old wizard say out loud. He felt a lump form in his throat and swallowed hard. It wasn't fair. How was Harry going to live through this one?

_His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore...it's not fair._

Hermione stood silently next to him, holding his hand. She was crying silently. Ron cursed himself silently for not seeing this coming. All the visions he'd had, all the lives he'd help to save, and he couldn't help the person Harry needed the most.

The door to Dumbledore's office opened and Ginny came out; her face was streaked with tears. She looked at Ron and began to cry.

Ron took her in his arms and hugged her to him with one arm, as he clutched Hermione's hand. He felt Ginny's anguish wash over him in waves, and he bit his lip to keep from crying. Someone had to keep it together, and it looked like it would be him.

Ginny's sobs subsided and she stepped back from Ron.

'He...he's better off, really,' she said. 'Dumbledore, I mean. He's so old and weak...he wants to go.'

Hermione sniffed and moved closer to Ron.

'Harry's still in there?' he asked.

Ginny nodded. 'Dumbledore said they needed to talk.'

Ron found himself between his girlfriend and his sister, an arm round each of their shoulders, as they leaned on him. He didn't know long they waited for the inevitable. They didn't speak, because words were neither needed nor wanted. Ron only knew that when Harry finally came out of the old wizard's office, it would be over.

At least fifteen minutes passed, and by now, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had slid to the floor, leaning against the wall. Ginny dozed off with her head on Ron's shoulder, and Ron and Hermione absently held hands, twining their fingers, seeking comfort from the contact. Ron felt his eyelids droop. He was exhausted, drained, and it struck him that losing a Quidditch match today was meaningless.

He started to drift off...

The banging of the entrance to Dumbledore's office snapped him awake, and as one, he, Hermione and Ginny stood up. Harry was walking slowly toward them. His face and eyes were red, swollen. His gait was shuffling, like that of an old man, and Ron saw that Harry did look old. Seventeen, but the pain in his green eyes was that of a man decades older.

Ginny left Ron's side and rushed to Harry, taking his hands in her own. She made a noise in her throat as if to speak, and Hermione suddenly reached for Ron, clinging to him; he held on to her and she trembled.

'H-Harry...' Ginny whispered. Harry looked at her for a long moment, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

'He's gone,' he said, looking at her. And then he looked up at Ron and Hermione, and Ron thought his heart would split in two to see the look in Harry's eyes. His voice shattered when he spoke again.

'Dumbledore's gone.'

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was extremely hard to write, but it had to happen. Hope everyone understands. **


	30. Chapter Thirty: Hopkirk's Revelations

_Chapter Thirty: Hopkirk's Revelations _

For a long time they didn't move from where they stood. The four of them held onto each other; the girls cried, and the boys tried not to.

It was the sound of Dumbledore's office door opening that caused them all to step back and look up.

Professor McGonagall was there. She was standing rigid as a statue; the only sign of pain on her face was in her eyes, which were red and shiny behind her spectacles.

She swallowed and spoke.

'Do not speak of this to anyone. I need time to...to complete the new wards on the school and the grounds and I need to be able to do that before the press gets wind of his passing. If his death gets out before that...Voldemort could strike while the wards are still weak. I need time.'

Ginny and Hermione sniffed and wiped their eyes. Ron rested his hand on Hermione's shoulder and Harry clutched Ginny's free hand.

'As far as you are concerned, Albus Dumbledore is ill and resting. Understood?'

Harry and the others exchanged looks and nodded.

'You should all try and get some rest,' said McGonagall.

'Will there be a funeral?' Harry asked, his voice cracking.

'No, Potter,' she said. 'Not at this time. We will go public with his passing by the end of the week. We'll cancel lessons for one day, that is all. There will not be a funeral. It is far too risky, right now, to engage in such rituals that...draw crowds. And I imagine a crowd for Albus would be...'

Her voice trailed off and she took a steadying breath.

'There will be no funeral,' she repeated. 'Severus and I will spend our free time going through his effects and make the necessary arrangements. Albus wished to be cremated...we will make the arrangements.' She paused. 'Go on to bed, then.'

The four of them nodded and started down the corridor, away from Dumbledore's office. Away from Professor McGonagall, who stood as still as a statue.

_How can they not have a funeral? Not even a remembrance for him? It's wrong, he was a great wizard, a great man, he deserves it..._

_Because we're in a war.__ Because there isn't time for those kinds of rituals, and it's not safe..._

When Harry reached the foot of the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, he turned to see McGonagall still standing there, staring off into space. A single tear trickled down her pale, wrinkled cheek. She wiped it away impatiently, turned on her heel and walked briskly back to the stairs leading to Dumbledore's office.

Ron and Hermione said their good-nights to Harry and Ginny halfway to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry and Ginny continued alone to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry didn't even hear Ginny utter the password; he simply followed her through the portrait hole and stepped into the common room to find it empty. There was a fire in the hearth, crackling merrily and casting a warm glow about the room. It seemed an almost cruel dichotomy with Dumbledore's death.

He was drawn to the flames, and he walked dully over to the sofa, where he sat down, in a kind of numb, half trance. He felt Ginny circle round, felt her sit next to him.

'Harry?' she asked tentatively.

He looked at her; she was regarding him with concern; her eyes were red and puffy from crying. He couldn't speak; it was as if someone had cast a Silencing Charm on him. Or perhaps it was because his throat hurt from crying at Dumbledore's bedside as the old man had slipped away.

Ginny took a delicate step towards him, and then another. She seemed unsure of what to do; Harry took the initiative and drew her into his arms. They sank against one another and Harry swallowed; he couldn't cry anymore, there was nothing left, except her. She was alive and young and breathing and holding onto him. She had stopped crying, too, and for a long time they sat there, clinging to each other, and the only sounds Harry heard were the crackling of the fire and their breathing.

'I can't believe he's really gone,' Harry said at last, his words muffled against Ginny's hair.

She pulled back from him and pressed her hand to his cheek.

'Harry…'

'It's weird, Ginny,' he said. 'I…I hate it but…you saw him. He was so…so sick. He could barely talk. I held his hand and he was so cold. It's almost…'

Harry's voice trailed off.

'Better this way?' Ginny finished.

Harry looked up at her sharply; he wanted to protest. Of course it wasn't better this way! Of course it wasn't _better_ that Dumbledore was dead.

'Harry,' said Ginny, 'he wanted to go, he was ready. He's not suffering anymore, wherever he is.'

Harry felt a rush of anger and stood up.

'Fine, that's great,' he said angrily. 'He's not suffering. What about us? He leaves us behind, he leaves me behind to deal with this. He thinks he's the only one suffering, is that it?'

'Harry, he was 154 years old,' said Ginny, grabbing Harry's hand and clutching it.

'So?' said Harry petulantly, and he felt tears tickling his eyes again.

_Enough of that._ Enough_, already._

'Haven't you ever stopped to consider that you'll leave people behind someday, too?' said Ginny.

Harry snorted. 'Oh, no, Ginny, I never think about dying. I've got Voldemort chasing after me, but the thought of dying never crossed my mind--'

'Oh, shut up, Harry!' Ginny snarled, standing up sharply and pushing at his chest with her small hands. 'Just stop it! Dumbledore was old and sick, he was in pain. Is that what you want for him, to hang on, bedridden and weak and hurting, just to make you feel better?'

'Don't put it like that,' said Harry defensively.

'Why not?' said Ginny. 'That's what you're thinking. And it's wrong, Harry. It's wrong and unfair. Dumbledore is lucky, he lived a really long time and he had a full life. We should all be so lucky to have that, and to die peacefully in a bed surrounded by our friends, letting them say good-bye.' She paused and swallowed, and then looked down. 'That's how I'd want to go.'

'Don't talk about that,' said Harry at once, taking her hands in his.

'It'll happen sometime, Harry,' said Ginny softly, and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. 'To me, to you, to Ron or Mum or--'

'Don't,' said Harry again, more forcefully. 'Please, Gin. I can't…I don't want to hear about death anymore, please. I know…you're right. I was being selfish and…and I'm glad I could say goodbye to him but I can't think about you…I can't…'

His voice trailed off again, and he turned away.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, and she pulled him to her and wrapped her arms round his neck. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured again, her breath warming his skin.

He put his arms about her waist and inhaled the scent of her hair; his lips came to rest against her neck, and he closed his eyes and placed a kiss there, where her neck curved into her shoulder. She gave a little sigh and pulled him closer, and he moved his lips over her skin, up to her jaw...

_I need her. I need this..._

She tilted her head back, giving him better access; he found the place just below her earlobe, the little hollow there, and he sucked at the skin gently, before moving his lips to her earlobe; he traced kisses along her jaw, her cheek...

When his mouth hovered against hers, he stopped.

_Should we even be doing this? How can I want to kiss her after what's happened?_

'It's okay,' she whispered, and she kissed him, and he kissed her back. He let himself forget everything but her mouth, the softness of her tongue as it brushed against his.

They kissed for a long time, moving slowly onto the sofa; she pulled him down onto her and he rested carefully atop her, clutching his fingers in her hair, kissing her lips, her face, her neck. His hands ached to touch her elsewhere, but he kept his fingers at her collarbones, trailed them over the skin there, just beneath the surface of her jumper...

All of a sudden, he felt Ginny take his hand and press it against her breast. He groaned and pulled his mouth away from hers.

'Are you sure?' he asked.

She didn't say anything, she just nodded, and Harry kissed her again, and he felt her stretch out with her powers, felt a rush of heat and pleasure that started inside her and flooded into him as his hands gently caressed her; she was soft and wonderful there, and there was only her, and the fire, and him, and they kissed on and on, and his hands explored her just that much, over her jumper. It was perfect, he was filled with only her, her mouth, her body, her soul.

He wanted more, he wanted all of her, and he let that emotion fill his mind and she gasped, because she sensed it.

'Harry...'

'I'm sorry,' he said quickly. 'I didn't mean to--'

'It's okay,' Ginny said, breathing heavily. She smiled and looked down at his hands, which were still resting on her breasts.

'Sorry,' he said, quickly removing them. She giggled and for a moment he joined in. He actually giggled.

And then they remembered what had happened less than an hour before.

'Should we have--'

'Maybe we shouldn't have--'

Harry let out a short laugh and shook his head. 'Maybe we shouldn't have done that,' he said, 'but...but I'm glad...'

'Me, too,' she said. 'It's okay.'

He looked at her for a long moment, his fingers tracing across her cheek.

'Stay with me,' he said suddenly.

'W-what?' said Ginny, looking confused.

'Tonight,' said Harry, and his throat began to work against him. 'Stay with me. I...I don't want to be alone.'

Ginny stared up at him for a long moment, and then she smiled softly.

'Okay.'

Fifteen minutes later he was curled around her in his bed; she was sleeping softly, dressed in a modest, white cotton nightgown. Her hair was spread out over his pillow and she looked like an angel. He held her close to him and felt a gentle pulse of her power even as she slept, as she clutched his hand in hers. He left himself drift off, and he dreamed of her for a while, and then he dreamed of Dumbledore, who was standing next to his parents and Sirius. They were all smiling.

* * *

The week following Dumbledore's death was perhaps the slowest in Harry's memory. Apart from the raw pain of it was the agony of keeping it a secret, which meant that Harry and his friends had to maintain an outwardly normal façade. Harry found himself alternating between wanting to break something and wanting to disappear into some remote corner and cry his eyes out.

Quidditch turned out to be a saving grace for Harry, Ron and Ginny. McGonagall had initially balked at letting them practice--the new wards, she said, were not up to full strength. It was Snape, of all people, who suggested that in order to keep up appearances, Quidditch practices mustn't be interfered with.

Even as Hermione buried herself further in her schoolwork and research, Harry took the opportunity to salve his own grief by setting up longer, more brutal Quidditch practices. Seamus, Parvati, Colin and Lizzie grumbled about it, as did the alternates when they practiced, but Ron and Ginny privately told Harry they were grateful for the distraction. The physical exertion of Quidditch, the mental focus it required, allowed them all to take their minds of Dumbledore and the secret they were keeping. Ron and Hermione spent a bit more time alone together, but Harry didn't mind this. He had Ginny now.

Lessons, too, proved to be difficult, but not because of the content. Seeing the stiff looks on the professors' faces was enough to make Harry want to scream? How could they all go about their business, as if it hadn't happened?

_Isn't that what I'm doing? Because I have to. Because we all have to._

Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, was busy at work on the wards, or at least that's what Harry surmised, given that she had asked other professors to substitute for her in Transfiguration; that week Harry and the others took Transfiguration with the Arithmancy teacher, Professor Vector, who proved to be about as strict as Professor McGonagall, and nearly as skilled. Hermione, however, seemed to be the only one who truly paid attention to the lessons. Ginny mentioned that Professor Flitwick had volunteered to teach the sixth years, and several other professors picked up the slack from there.

Ginny snuck into Harry's dormitory at night and slept next to him, and he clung to her like a lifeline. They'd done little more than kiss briefly since the night of Dumbledore's death; neither of them seemed inclined to go beyond this. A part of Harry found this frustrating, particularly when Ginny would sleep next to him at night, but it was as if they had to wait out some period of time before they could get back to where they had been, and move on. Harry wasn't sure, but he had a feeling her presence had something to do with his dreams. All week he dreamed of Dumbledore, his parents and Sirius. They never did anything but smile at him, and Harry could never seem to reach them. It was like looking into the Mirror of Erised. And yet Dumbledore looked lively and healthy again, and his blue eyes sparkled behind his half-moon glasses. It was a kind of hell, then, to wake up in the morning and realize it was nothing more than a dream. And yet he clung to the dreams as a source of comfort.

Ginny told Harry of her sessions with Andromeda Tonks and Malfoy; she sensed at once that Mrs. Tonks knew about Dumbledore's death, and it only made keeping the secret from Draco even harder. Draco, for his part, knew something was up, but he never voiced his suspicions. The only thing that mattered, as far as Ginny was concerned, was that he left her alone, and that the sessions were helping her get more and more control over her powers.

It was during the Friday morning in the midst of breakfast when Professor McGonagall, with Snape following, strode to the front of the Great Hall; she climbed the stairs to the daïs and moved to the front of the High Table. The other professors exchanged glances and stood up.

Harry braced himself; he reached for Ginny's hand.

'Your attention, please,' said Professor McGonagall, her voice trembling just slightly.

The Great Hall fell silent almost at once.

'I regret to inform you all that our former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, passed away last night in his sleep,' she said.

There was a long collective gasp about the room, and then complete, stunned silence. Harry swallowed thickly against a lump in his throat. Just hearing the words struck him hard, like a fist in the solar plexus.

'He died peacefully,' said McGonagall, 'and in his home, the place he loved best. I would like now to ask for a moment of silence in his memory.'

The moment of silence lasted for a minute, but it was hardly silent; it was punctuated instead by the sounds of quiet crying. Harry let his eyes wander, and they fell on the Slytherin table.

Daphne Greengrass was red-eyed and held Blaise Zabini's hand. Several younger Slytherins looked genuinely distressed. Draco Malfoy's face was drawn in a painful scowl, as though he might actually be sorry that Dumbledore had died. Or perhaps he was just sorry Dumbledore hadn't died painfully.

But it was the look on Theodore Nott's face that made Harry's blood boil; the bastard was actually smirking.

_No doubt he'll run and owl his dad after this and tell him the good news: The only wizard Voldemort ever feared is dead._

Harry felt Ginny squeeze his hand; he looked at her and saw tears on her cheeks. Hermione was clinging to Ron and he was gently stroking her hair.

'Very well, then,' said Professor McGonagall, breaking the quiet. 'Lessons are cancelled for today but will resume on Monday morning. Please note that there are new wards about the grounds and the castle. All security measures will continue to be in place, and curfews will be strictly observed. That is all.'

Professor McGonagall then walked briskly out of the Great Hall; the teachers all filed out after her, their breakfasts forgotten. Harry cast his eyes back to the Slytherin table; already, Theodore Nott, along with Crabbe and Goyle, were leaving, accompanied by an Auror.

It was a half an hour later when Harry was in the common room with Ginny, Hermione and Ron, attempting to study, that he felt a surge in his scar. It was sudden and awful and gone so fast it might not have happened at all, but Harry knew at once what it meant.

'What is it?' Hermione asked, when she saw him wince and press his hand to his forehead.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment; Ginny took his hand and soothed him with a touch of her power.

'Harry?' said Ron.

Harry opened his eyes; he exchanged a look with Ginny before turning to Ron and Hermione.

'Voldemort knows,' Harry said. 'He knows about Dumbledore now.'

'Fuck,' said Ron. Hermione didn't bother correcting him.

Instead, she leaned forward.

'Harry, it's time,' she said. 'We have to talk to Hopkirk.'

* * *

Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny walked briskly to Professor Hopkirk's office; the benefit of being Head Girl and Boy meant that neither Ron nor Hermione had to give a reason to any Auror as to why they were wandering the corridors. An Auror just automatically followed them wherever they went.

Upon reaching Hopkirk's door it was Hermione who rapped sharply at it.

For a long moment there was no answer, and Hermione tried again.

'Who is it?' called an irritated voice.

'Hermione Granger!'

'I'm very busy at the moment, Miss Granger--' Hopkirk's muffled voice began.

'This is extremely urgent,' Hermione snapped. 'I've got Harry with me--'

'Fine,' said Hopkirk at once, her voice flat. 'Come in.'

There was a soft click; Hopkirk had unlocked her door from the inside.

Hermione shoved the door open and marched into Hopkirk's office; right behind her was Ron, then Harry and finally Ginny.

'Well, well,' said Hopkirk. 'Miss Granger. I see you brought more than Potter with you.'

She sat lazily at her desk, with her feet on it. She wore her usual black robes, but her strawberry hair was loose about her shoulders.

'We need to talk to you,' said Hermione brusquely.

'I know,' said Hopkirk. 'I was rather wondering when you'd get around to paying me a visit. Please, do have a seat.'

She picked up her wand from the desk, gave it a wave and conjured up four stiff armchairs.

Harry and the others sat down slowly as Hopkirk lowered her feet from her desk chair.

'So you know why we're here, then?' he said.

'I think I have an idea,' said Hopkirk. 'You're curious about what your mother and I were working on.'

Harry exchanged looks with Hermione, and then looked back at the professor.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Among other things.'

'I think the other things can wait,' said Hopkirk evenly. 'Your mother was an Unspeakable, which I'm sure you figured out. I was, too. That's how we met. I joined the Ministry as researcher...a few years before your mum finished school. Turns out we both had a common interest: blood. I had already started research on some old blood samples belonging to Tom Riddle. Your mum came along and we were partnered.'

'You were friends,' said Harry.

Hopkirk smiled coldly. 'In a manner of speaking.'

'You were trying to figure out a way to kill Voldemort,' said Hermione.

'Among other things,' said Hopkirk archly. 'Voldemort had been playing around with all sorts of nasty dark magic in the hopes of achieving immortality. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say he experimented with blood. Blood rituals, blood sacrifices, that sort of thing.'

Ron grimaced. 'What he did do with the blood?'

Hopkirk smiled. 'He worked spells. He made potions. Stuff you'll never learn in Professor Snape's classes, to say the least. Potions he invented. He never shared his...recipes with anyone, though. He couldn't let his followers in on too many of his secrets, after all.'

'He drank unicorn blood,' said Ron. 'When he was in Quirrell's body.'

'Of course,' said Hopkirk. 'Unicorn blood is potent and life-sustaining. But drinking it comes with a cost.'

Hermione sat forward. 'Could that be a weakness now?'

Hopkirk shook her head. 'Not likely. Quirrell's death meant he had to find a new body. The effect wouldn't have lasted unless he drank more of it in his new body. No, I think the real weakness has to do with Harry.'

Harry sat back in his chair. 'My blood,' he said. 'He took some when he came back. Lupin and Hermione said that might be a weakness.'

'They're both right,' said Hopkirk. 'The spell Voldemort used to come back is based on ancient magic. _Sanguen__ generare_, I'm sure you've all heard of it by now.' She glanced coolly at Hermione, who sat up straighter in her chair.

'Voldemort twisted that spell,' said Hopkirk. 'The spell was never meant to be used the way he used it. _Sanguen__ generare_ in its purest form is an act of love, something he doesn't understand. He used the spell to unnaturally prolong his own life, and he committed murder to do it.'

'But it backfired on him,' said Hermione, 'when he tried to kill Harry.'

'Of course it did,' said Hopkirk. '_Sanguen__ generare_ is the most powerful protective spell in the world. A blood sacrifice, made willingly by one for another, out of love? Nothing can defeat that. Voldemort, in rush to destroy Harry, let that simple truth slip his mind.'

'That's why he took my blood,' said Harry. 'He thinks...if he has my blood--my mum's blood--it'll protect him in the same way. That's what he said.'

'But he's wrong,' said Hermione. 'Isn't he? That's why Harry was able to hurt him in the battle at the Riddle House.'

'Very good, Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk. 'Voldemort was operating under the assumption that by running about with Harry's blood in his veins, he'd be protected from the Killing Curse. To that extent he's right. A mere Killing Curse won't do him in. The problem is he took Harry's blood against his will. In so doing, he tainted it.'

'So it won't protect him,' said Harry hopefully.

'Oh, it will,' said Hopkirk. 'It has, up to a point. The blood is tainted with his malice, but not completely. Your blood, Harry, is marked by your mother's love. Love is poison to Voldemort.'

Harry stared at Hopkirk, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

'So...my blood in his veins...is poisoning him?' he said slowly.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'He didn't know at the time he took your blood that this would happen. Voldemort's biggest weakness has always been arrogance, his belief that his power can conquer anything, including death, and love. He is not infallible; his arrogance leads him to make mistakes. Critical ones. The very blood he was so certain would save his life against anything did the opposite. That is why, Harry, you've been able to hurt him. Your blood--your mother's blood--is like a slow-acting poison in his veins.'

'But...' said Hermione, 'how can that be? He was weakened after that last battle Harry had with him but...he's recovered. Hasn't he?'

'As usual, Miss Granger, you have pointed out the wrinkle,' said Hopkirk, and at this, she stood up and took a deep breath.

'Voldemort has stepped up his attacks,' said Hopkirk.

'We know, we've seen it in the paper,' said Ginny.

'The newspaper only tells part of the story, Miss Weasley,' said Hopkirk. 'There have been other attacks that didn't make the pages of _The Daily Prophet. _ Attacks on magical creatures.'

'What?' said Ron. 'No...I...I never saw--' His eyes went wide and he stopped mid-sentence.

'You never saw any visions of that?' said Hopkirk. 'I know about you, Mr. Weasley, I've known about you since the day I arrived here. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. In any case, a Seer can't see everything. Voldemort's attacking magical creatures because he needs victims. Humans are his favorite, but those attacks have been thwarted.'

'He was angry,' said Harry. 'He was furious, in fact. I felt that.'

'Of course he was furious,' said Hopkirk. 'He needs victims, Harry. He needs their blood.'

Ron grimaced. 'To drink it?'

'To make his potions,' said Hopkirk. 'To counteract the poisoning effect of Harry's blood in his system. The blood of victims carries the stain of their murders. Voldemort mixes their blood in some kind of potion and drinks it, and in so doing, he begins to kill off the power in Harry's blood and replace it with something else. Human blood is the easiest and safest thing to use. That's why he's so angry that all those attacks on humans have been stopped. He's being deprived of the victims he needs to save himself.'

'But you said he was attacking magical creatures,' said Hermione.

'As a last resort,' said Hopkirk.

'What sort of magical creatures?' said Hermione. 'Not unicorns--'

'No, the magical community has gone out of its way to protect unicorns,' said Hopkirk, and her voice was edged with scorn. 'It's the undesirables Voldemort targets. Goblins, giants, vampires. Werewolves.'

Hermione and Ginny gasped.

'Professor Lupin!' Ginny whispered.

'No,' said Ron, looking stricken.

'Remus Lupin is fine,' said Hopkirk. 'For now. But now you know why he's trying to recruit other werewolves.'

'To protect them,' said Hermione. 'The Ministry doesn't care what happens to them, so...Lupin's trying to get the Order to do it, somehow. And...that's Hagrid and Bill are doing, too, isn't it? Bill with the goblins and Hagrid with the giants?'

Hopkirk nodded.

'Why doesn't the bloody Ministry do something?' Ron asked angrily. 'I thought Madam Bones was--'

'Priorities, Mr. Weasley,' said Hopkirk coldly. 'The Ministry has always placed the protection and welfare of human wizards and witches above all others. Madam Bones is...well, she's a far cry better than Fudge; she at least is willing to put herself out there for Muggles and Muggle-borns. And I am quite sure she would love to extend further protections to non-humans. But society doesn't much like werewolves or giants. Prejudice against non-humans goes very, very deep. The Ministry is already stretched thin worrying about a war. They don't have the resources to go protecting non-human creatures who have a history of killing people. It is simply not a priority.'

'The Ministry's covering it up, isn't it?' said Hermione darkly. 'We haven't heard a thing about werewolf deaths, or giants or goblins.'

'There's no active cover-up,' said Hopkirk. 'The Ministry is simply failing to mention the recent spike in werewolf disappearances.'

'How can they do that?' Hermione said furiously. 'Werewolves are still people, they have families and friends! Don't they deserve the truth? And the goblins...wizards do _business_ with them, how can they--' Her voice broke off as her eyes filled with angry tears.

Hopkirk looked at Hermione with something like pity.

'You'll never be a politician, Miss Granger,' she said. 'The Ministry responds to the wants of the public. The public doesn't care if a giant winds up dead, so why should the Ministry make a fuss over it?'

'So Voldemort goes after them because he knows nobody will do anything to stop it,' said Ron miserably. He looked terribly guilty. 'Why haven't I seen any of this?'

'Perhaps because your own prejudice is toward saving human lives,' Hopkirk suggested.

'Wait a minute,' said Ron indignantly. 'That's not true.'

'Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley,' said Hopkirk. 'I'm not accusing you of hating werewolves. But like most human beings, you're inclined to most protective of your own kind. Perhaps it's this inclination that's affecting the visions you're getting.'

Ron opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when Hopkirk shifted her gaze to him. She regarded him coolly for a moment, and then licked her pink lips. Harry swallowed and looked away. He felt Hopkirk shift her gaze back to Ron.

'In any case,' said Hopkirk, 'Voldemort has been choosing his victims of late for their lack of newsworthy potential. But there are major drawbacks, of course. Getting giant or werewolf or vampire or even goblin blood isn't a simple matter. These creatures are powerful, after all. You can't take a giant down with a few Stunners. And of course, non-human blood requires a lot more tweaking to be made safe to drink, particularly if it's werewolf or vampire blood.'

'Vampire blood,' said Hermione. 'But that kind of blood could keep Voldemort alive forever. Why not just grab a vampire and do an exchange?'

'Because being undead has its drawbacks,' said Hopkirk dryly. 'Namely that it's very difficult to keep up one's immortality. Being a vampire is really very exhausting.'

'How would you know?' Ron asked darkly.

'Ron!' Hermione hissed, punching his arm.

'Ow,' he muttered.

Hopkirk, meanwhile, looked somewhat amused. She leveled her gaze at Hermione and continued.

'Non-human blood, as I said, has its problems,' Hopkirk said, 'but at least werewolves and vampires are part human. Giants, not so much, and goblins are a species apart. Playing with their blood to make it compatible with human blood is quite the challenge. It requires time and patience. Voldemort isn't a patient sort.'

She paused for a moment and ran a hand through her hair.

'The point is,' she said, 'Voldemort wants human victims. Muggles or wizard, it doesn't really matter, so long as there's some magical connection. He didn't choose those Muggle parents of wizards and witches at random, or simply to torment Harry and his friends. Muggles are already soft targets, but ordinary, garden-variety Muggles aren't much good to Voldemort for the purposes of using their blood. He needed the magical connection. Muggle parents of wizards and witches are the perfect choice--they're easier to acquire and control, and the mixture of their blood resulted in magical children. The blood might require a bit more tweaking than purely magical blood but the victims are easy to find. I think he decided on Muggle parents after his initial attacks against the wizards in Bulgaria didn't go off.'

'So Voldemort wasn't planning on simply attacking them and killing them,' said Ginny, looking appalled. 'He would have kidnapped them and...and...'

'Taken their blood in some ghastly ritual or magical ceremony and then killed them, yes,' said Hopkirk evenly.

Hermione shuddered, and Ron took her hand.

'Wait,' said Harry, struggling to keep everything straight in his mind. 'So...my blood in Voldemort's body is hurting him. He planned those attacks first on the wizards and then on Muggles to get their blood, and use it to counteract the effect of my blood on him.'

'That's the gist of it,' said Hopkirk.

'Would it work?' Harry asked. 'Would it kill the effects of my blood if he...drank blood from his victims, in some sort of potion?'

'Up to a point,' said Hopkirk. 'But not thoroughly, and not permanently. The only way to completely eradicate the negative effects of your blood on his body is to kill you. Not only that, but killing you completes the cycle of the dark magic that he started when Peter Pettigrew brought him back. If he'd killed you in the graveyard, the night he killed Cedric Diggory, he would have become unstoppable. As it is, you're escaping him these past few years has bought us, and you some time, and given the negative effects of your blood to take hold.'

Harry stood up; he couldn't sit anymore. It was too much. All of it. This woman...this creature was telling him things he should have been told ages ago. He was suddenly confused and angry. Why hadn't Hopkirk said anything? Why had she never approached him before now? Why, after everything that had happened, had she been kept a secret? Why did he feel like he was always the last to know?

_It's my fucking _duty_ to kill Voldemort and people are still keeping secrets from me!_

'You could have told me all this a bit sooner,' said Harry, through gritted teeth. 'All this time, you knew my mum and you never said anything. Dumbledore never said a word about you? When the hell are people going to stop keeping secrets from me?'

'Harry...' Ginny murmured, taking his hand, but he yanked it out of her grip and began to pace angrily.

'There's a very good reason you didn't know until now,' said Hopkirk.

'Oh, right,' said Harry savagely. 'Let me guess. It was for my own good this was all a secret, is that it? Dumbledore didn't think I could handle it, did he? How many people knew, Professor? About you and my mum being mates? About you two working together?'

'Nobody knew but Dumbledore and a few people high up in the Department of Mysteries,' said Hopkirk. 'People who are dead now.'

'Oh, brilliant,' said Harry. 'So you and Dumbledore were the only ones, then? And you never told me? You knew about me, you tried to help my mum protect me and you never once, in sixteen fucking years, came to me and said, "Hey, Harry, I knew your mum, we were friends, maybe I could tell you a few things that might help you beat him"?'

'I realize you're upset,' said Hopkirk, her voice even but her eyes growing paler; a sign of her simmering temper. Harry ignored it. She had gotten up and circled round to the front of her desk. Harry ignored it, and he ignored the nervous looks from Ron and Hermione, and the stung look from Ginny.

'Do you?' he snarled. 'Since Dumbledore went and died and I can't tell him what I think of his latest round of secret-keeping I guess I'll have to tell you. It sucks, and I'm sick of it! If I'm the one who's supposed to save the fucking world from Voldemort, the least people could do is tell me when they know something that's useful!'

'It wasn't Dumbledore's place to tell you,' said Hopkirk, her voice growing edgy, and she took a step toward Harry. By now, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing.

'Right, it wasn't his place,' said Harry. 'But you could have said something!'

'I was protecting you,' Hopkirk snapped.

Harry's blood felt like it was exploding inside him. Those four words touched something in him and a white-hot rage exploded behind his eyes.

'DON'T YOU EVEN FUCKING SAY THAT TO ME!' he bellowed, and before he knew what he was doing, he shoved Hopkirk back against her desk, hard, and she stumbled. 'I'm sick of people trying to--'

But whatever else Harry meant to shout was cut off by a piercing, fearsome roar that seemed to burst out and echo from the very walls of the room. Except that it didn't come from the walls, it came from Hopkirk.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. Hopkirk's roar was like a sudden, violent gust of wind, and Harry felt himself lifted off his feet; suddenly he was hurtling through the air. The chairs in front of Hopkirk's desk flew away and Harry vaguely heard Ron yelling, heard Hermione and Ginny scream. Hopkirk's roar ripped through Harry as he slammed against the far wall of Hopkirk's office.

The impact knocked the wind from him and he thought he might fall down, but some invisible force was holding him up, pinning him to the wall. He blinked and felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw Hopkirk literally leap across the room. As she did she changed, and Harry's seemed to flip over and hammer inside his brain.

In the blink of an eye she was no longer human, but a monster. A beautiful, horrifying monster with blood-red skin and eyes and pitch-black hair and sharp, piercing white teeth.

Harry shrank back in fear as she landed in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny all leap up and point their wands at her.

'Stupefy!' the three of them shouted in unison.

Jets of light shot from their wands. Hopkirk turned, and with a growl she lifted her hand--red with long black claws--and caught the jets of light in her palm. They exploded harmlessly in a shower of sparks. In the next instant she waved her hand harshly at Ron and the others, and their wands went flying across the room to clatter onto the floor.

'Harry!' Ginny cried.

'SILENCE!' Hopkirk bellowed, and her voice sent ice racing through Harry's body. It was the voice of something otherworldly, deep and ringing and terrifying. Ron grabbed Hermione and Ginny both and pulled them close; they were white with fear. Hopkirk snapped her head back at Harry. Harry shut his eyes, trying to block out what he was seeing, trying to block out the waves of fear and cold and heat she was making him feel.

'Look at me,' she snarled. He didn't open his eyes.

'LOOK AT ME!' she yelled. Harry's eyes snapped open.

'Jesus...' he croaked, and he knew he was terrified, and he wondered that he hadn't in fact wet himself by now. He hadn't felt so frightened since his first encounter with Voldemort, since his first encounter with the Dementors.

'Are you frightened, Harry?' she asked, licking her blood-red lips, running her tongue over her teeth.

_Fangs, she has fangs._

'Yes,' Harry said. Frightened, and aroused, and disgusted all at the same time.

'There is a very good reason I said nothing until now,' she said in a low, dangerous voice, 'and you are looking at it.'

'Professor...' Ginny whispered. 'Don't hurt him...'

Hopkirk ignored her, and instead stepped back from Harry. She lifted a hand and Harry felt whatever force that was pinning him to the wall vanish; he gave a grunt as his legs collapsed under him. When he looked up, Hopkirk's form changed again, back into that of the professor he knew.

'You do not even begin to understand my situation,' she said, and she turned and walked stiffly back to her desk. Harry saw that her hands were shaking. He scrambled to his feet, and the movement seemed to spur Ron and the others--who'd been standing still as statues--to move as well. Ginny rushed to Harry's side and took his hands in hers. Her eyes were tearful, but Harry shook his head, and they all looked at Hopkirk.

For a long moment, she said nothing; her back was to them, and she was gripping her chair and taking deep breaths as though to regain her self-control. Harry swallowed. At last, she turned round and faced them all. With an almost casual flick of her wrist, she summoned Ron, Hermione and Ginny's wands into her hand.

'You'll be wanting these,' she said, and her voice shook, just slightly. Ron took a step forward and took them from her.

She met Harry's eyes for a moment, and for the first time, her expression was filled with pain, with sadness, and Harry felt an involuntary rush of pity.

Hopkirk broke the eye contact and crossed behind her desk. She pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at the desk, muttered an incantation, and then slid open what looked to be a hidden drawer. From it, she extracted a small stack of neatly folded parchment.

'This is the rest of my correspondence with your mother,' she said, holding out the stack. 'It's in code, I'm afraid. I didn't want to make translated copies in case...'

Her voice trailed off for a moment, and she placed the stack of parchment on her desk.

'In any case, the codes use a formation similar to that of the Kensington Rune Stone,' she said. 'Miss Granger should know what I'm talking about.'

Harry swallowed again, and picked up the stack of parchment from Hopkirk's desk. He stepped back and regarded her nervously; her eyes moved from him to the others, looking at each one of them in turn for a long moment. Harry saw Ron squirm slightly under Hopkirk's gaze.

'The information you require should be contained in those notes,' she said at last, her voice so soft Harry almost didn't hear her. 'Now get out of here.'

For a brief moment no one moved, but then Ron cleared his throat and nodded his head sharply at Hopkirk's door, and suddenly the four of them were rushing for the exit.

The four of them were just about to leave altogether, and the door was swinging shut slowly, when Hermione turned back and caught the door against her palm.

'Professor,' she said, her voice shaking with nerves.

'What is it, Miss Granger?' said Hopkirk sharply, looking up at her with weary eyes.

'I...' Hermione took a deep breath. 'I just wanted to say...I'm...sorry I contradicted you about the Shield Charm you...you created.'

Hopkirk looked at her for a moment, and her lip curled into a kind of sad smile.

'Apology accepted,' she said. Hermione nodded and backed out of the room, bumping into Ron, as Hopkirk's door swung shut with a loud bang.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone so far for the positive feedback. I really appreciate it. I continue to plead your patience, however, as I write this story. I know the updates are slow but my life is _extremely_ hectic at the moment and I simply cannot find as much time to devote to writing. The other delay is that I have finally decided to have this story beta-read; this makes for slower updates but for much better overall quality. **

**The Kensington Rune Stone is a real type of code; the author RogueSugah at Checkmated put me on to the idea.**


	31. Chapter Thirty One: Escape and Discovery

_Chapter Thirty-One: Escape and Discovery_

The four of them burst into Ron's room, having nearly sprinted from Hopkirk's office.

'Are you okay, Harry?' Hermione and Ginny both asked, as he sat shakily on Ron's chair.

'Jesus,' Harry muttered, shaking his head. 'Jesus.'

'Harry?' said Ron.

Harry looked up; he was ashen-faced. 'That was the single freakiest thing I've ever seen,' he said. 'And I've seen Voldemort up close and personal, so that's saying something.'

'Harry, it's okay,' said Ginny, taking his hand in hers. Ron could see at once that she was stretching out to him with her powers; at once Harry's face relaxed. Ginny grimaced slightly for a moment as she absorbed Harry's fear, and then she, too, relaxed.

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'If I ever start to shoot my mouth off at her again, Stun me.'

'I can't believe she did that,' said Ron. 'Let us see her like that, I mean.'

'I can,' said Hermione, shaking her head as she sat next to Ron on the bed. 'She was proving a point.'

'I'll say,' said Harry. '"Don't fuck with me" sounds about right.'

'That's not it,' Hermione said. 'She might not have wanted to approach you at all, for fear that she'd...hurt you in some way.'

'You mean have sex with me and steal my soul?' said Harry dryly. Ginny swatted him on the arm.

'Well, yes,' said Hermione. 'Didn't you feel what she did?'

'I felt it,' said Harry. 'I nearly wet myself, but I felt it.'

'Remember what I told you?' said Hermione. 'A succubus has an insatiable sexual appetite. Whatever Hopkirk's doing to control herself must be taking a huge toll.'

'Hey, do you think she's taking a potion, like Lupin does?' said Ron.

'There's a good chance of that,' said Hermione, 'only I've never heard of any potion powerful enough to control a succubus. That libido suppressing potion I gave to you wouldn't do a thing for Hopkirk.'

Ron gave a small, choked sound from his throat, and Harry snorted.

'Hang on,' he said. 'You gave Ron a potion to suppress his libido?'

'Shut up, Harry,' Ron muttered.

'Yes,' said Hermione defensively. 'He needed it.'

'Hermione,' Ron groaned.

'Well, you did, you were having a really hard time--'

'I'll bet,' Harry muttered.

Ron threw a pillow at Harry's head.

'Ow!' Harry grunted. 'Pillock.'

'Git,' Ron shot back.

'Getting back to Hopkirk,' said Ginny pointedly.

'Yes, well,' said Hermione, 'I was just going to say, if Hopkirk was powerful enough to create a Shield Charm that can block the Killing Curse and if she's spent all that time researching blood things, she probably found or invented a potion or some spell to keep herself under control. Well, most of the time, anyway.'

Ron laughed weakly. 'Just think, Harry. We used to get nervous when you lost your temper.'

'Hopkirk's temper makes Harry's look tame,' said Ginny, smiling at him affectionately.

'Ha ha,' said Harry. 'I'm not that bad.'

Ron, Hermione and Ginny all exchanged looks, and laughed. Harry threw the pillow at Ron, and it smacked him on the head, but a moment later, he, too was laughing.

* * *

Not long after, Harry and Ginny retired for the night. Hermione agreed to spend the night; neither of them were too keen on sleeping alone, after what they'd witnessed in Hopkirk's office.

They lay cuddled up beneath the covers; Ron absently caressed Hermione's hair as she leaned on his chest.

'Weird day,' he said finally.

_Understatement of the year.___

'Mmm,' was Hermione's reply.

'What's up?' Ron asked, sensing that something was wrong.

'I'm just...thinking,' she said, and she looked up at him. 'And don't say I think too much.'

Ron, whose mouth had been open to say just that, said, 'I wasn't going to say that.'

'I feel like I should be sadder about Dumbledore,' she said. 'But all I can think is that...I'm scared.'

'We're all scared,' Ron said, brushing her hair back from her face with his fingers.

'This is different, Ron,' said Hermione. 'Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort was afraid of. With Dumbledore...out of the way, it might not be long before he tries to come after Harry again.'

Ron swallowed. 'I suppose...we'll just have to be ready for that.' He paused and attempted a jaunty sort of smile. 'Anyway, I'm a Seer, yeah? I'll be able to anticipate Voldemort's big plans.'

Hermione smiled weakly, but her eyes were sad and worried.

'He'll find out,' she said. 'Voldemort, I mean.'

'That I'm a Seer?' said Ron. 'Nobody knows that but us.'

'He'll find out there's a Seer somewhere protecting Harry,' said Hermione. 'Maybe he won't know that it's you but he'll figure it out, if he hasn't already. He'll try to do things to get around you.'

'You think he could?' said Ron.

'I dunno,' said Hermione, shrugging. 'He'll try.'

'Then I'll meditate more,' said Ron. 'Three or four times a day if I have to. More than that.'

'And I'll spend hours in the library translating more codes and coming up with a brilliant plan to help Harry save the world,' said Hermione, smiling sadly.

'Yeah, you will,' said Ron, feeling something in his chest. It wasn't fear, he realized. It was sadness, and it was familiar. It was the sadness of knowing there was no turning back, that they were on a journey that was racing them toward a dangerous, even deadly presence that they might not be able to stop. And even if they did stop it, there would be losses...

'Ron, promise me something,' Hermione whispered, and her eyes shone with tears.

'What?' Ron asked, caressing her cheek, wishing he had some of Ginny's gift to take away whatever bad things she was feeling.

'Promise me you won't leave me,' she said, in a tiny voice, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Ron gave her a look. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'That's not what I meant.'

_Oh. She means...that._

'Hermione...' Ron said, his voice failing him. How could he promise her that? He'd never choose to leave her, that was certain. But how could make a promise like that? What if he...died? In the final outcome? What if she...

_No! I won't think about that._

_The vision you had...of you and her and that baby. You're not going to die. She's not going to die._

_Firenze__ said the future isn't totally set. That might happen, or it might not._

_Do you want it to happen?_

'Promise me,' Hermione begged.

_Yeah, I do. I want that. Someday._

Ron bit his lip, 'I promise.'

She smiled and wiped her eyes and sank back down onto his chest, cuddling up closer to him. He wrapped her up in his arms and held on, breathing in the scent of her hair.

As he started to drift off, he realized just how badly he wanted that future, the future in his vision. Him, Hermione, a baby, or two, a house and pets and visits from Harry and his family. A life. He hoped she'd want it, too, someday.

_Maybe you should tell her about that vision, then._

_I can't. It's...mine, you know? And what if...I tell her and I jinx it, or something?_

_I promise,_ he thought, closing his eyes.

* * *

This November was fast becoming the coldest Ron could remember. The first snow fell two days after the announcement of Dumbledore's death, and it was as if someone in the heavens had dumped wheelbarrows of it onto the earth. The temperatures plummeted and Harry decided--rightly so--that it was simply too frigid to practice Quidditch.

Dumbledore's death had set a pall over the school, and most of the students spent several days walking to and from lessons in a kind of dazed shock. Ron, however, felt a new and forceful determination and found himself spending more time on his studies; he wasn't particularly surprised to see Harry follow suit. Staying busy allowed them to keep their minds off the absence of the old Headmaster.

Ron also meditated. He upped his meditations to three times a day, and four on the weekends. Hermione fretted that he was overdoing it, and even Firenze warned him not to overtax himself, but Ron was having none of it. Hermione was right, it was only a matter of time before Voldemort figured out that a Seer was out there working against him. Even if Ron wouldn't be the one to face Voldemort in the end, he could at least make it easier for Harry to do so.

Hermione spent more time in the library, working on the codes. The Kensington Rune Stone cipher, she said, was relatively simple but very time consuming to slog through.

Lessons became more onerous as the Christmas holidays approached. Snape was again piling on essays and his latest round of potions were venom antidotes which required close and frequent handling of dangerous venomous animals, including three-headed snakes called runespoors, a particularly frightening variety of giant lizard, and disgusting looking sea creatures called a lobalugs.

Care of Magical Creatures lessons were moved indoors due to the extreme cold; the Spiketail dragons had grown several inches and were now the size of kittens, and a few of them were just starting to show evidence of diamond-like growths on the ends of their tails.

Professor McGonagall returned to teaching Transfiguration, and they began a unit on human transformations into inanimate objects. It was, McGonagall declared, a starting point toward learning how to become an Animagus, but as the skill was extremely difficult and tightly regulated, she wouldn't be teaching it in classes, and anyone who wanted to learn it would need to get Ministry approval. Ron had always assumed Hermione would jump at the chance to learn, but she demurred.

'There's simply too much for me to do,' she admitted, looking a bit disappointed.

Ron was grateful, at least, that she was finally learning a sense of limits for herself.

In the meantime they practiced turning each other into wardrobes and dressers; Ron managed the spell at the end of class and avoided extra homework, but transforming into a nightstand was, he decided, really quite painful.

Charms lessons, meanwhile, took on a slightly new slant. Professor Flitwick announced that, in consultation with Professor Hopkirk, there would be overlap in both Charms and Defense lessons. Defense would focus further of methods of wandless magic and wandless defense, whilst in Charms they would practice defensive charms and spells and dueling. Professor Flitwick quickly impressed the seventh years with his dueling abilities, made all the more astonishing given how tiny he was. Very quickly, Charms lessons competed with Defense lessons as the most physically draining, but Ron didn't mind. The physical exertion helped his mental focus and gave him more energy, and most importantly, kept his mind off Dumbledore and the trials to come.

Professor Hopkirk hadn't said a word to Ron, Harry, Hermione or Ginny since that night in her office. She seemed more business-like than ever, brusque and commanding, but Ron noticed the tight set to her jaw and the way she avoided making eye contact with him or Harry.

All told, there was a new frisson of energy amongst the faculty, even as the students clawed their way out of the shock of Dumbledore's death. The teachers seemed more determined than ever for the students to learn, and learn as much as possible in as short a time as possible. Never before did Ron hear more complaining, from his house-mates and other students, across all year levels, about the amount of school work being given them. For his part, Ron could only remain determined and focused. For the first time in his life, he didn't mind his heavy schedule.

_Hermione's discipline is rubbing off on me._

As the Christmas holidays approached, that nervous energy within the faculty spread to the students as well. Nearly all the students opted to go home to their families this year. Ron knew Hermione planned to do the same, and he tried not to worry, but it was hopeless not to. Hermione assured him, repeatedly, that her parents' house was being carefully guarded and there were powerful protective wards on it, but this did little to ease Ron's mind. Hermione might be a very capable witch but even she wouldn't be able to take on multiple, determined Death Eaters, and her parents...what could they, as Muggles do, to defend themselves and their daughter?

In the meantime, Ron's meditations, while revealing more frequent and vivid visions, were nonetheless filled with unknown people and unknown situations; family squabbles and Muggle violence and things he couldn't relate to. He wrote everything down anyway, including his dreams, and by the end of the first week of December he had started on his second diary.

His dreams were mostly pointless, but for the recurring dreams centering on Gryffindor's sword. A new dream came to Ron one night. In it, Harry was wielding the sword. The blade was coated in blood, and Harry stood apparently alone in a very brightly lit room. All around the room were the sounds of strange hissing. Ron told Harry, Hermione and Ginny about the dream, and they all agreed on its meaning.

'Harry has to use the sword against Voldemort,' said Hermione. 'That must be it.'

Harry smirked. 'A sword fight. Perfect. I suppose I should take fencing lessons.'

'Whose blood was on the blade?' Ginny asked.

'Dunno,' said Ron, shrugging. 'Maybe Harry got a good swipe in and it's Voldemort's blood.'

Hermione said nothing, but she looked slightly uneasy as she added a quiet note about Ron's latest dream to her massive list.

In the meantime, D.A. meetings continued. Hopkirk had them all working on wandless magic in lessons, and she carried that over into the meetings as well. Harry and Luna were best at it, by far; clearly Harry's weekly meetings with Luna were paying off. Neville, however, seemed to have either given up assisting Hopkirk during the meetings, or perhaps Hopkirk had decided she did not need or want Neville's help. Indeed, on two occasions, Neville was entirely absent from the meetings. When Ron asked Luna in passing about this, she would only look at him in that enigmatic way of hers and say, cryptically, that Neville was 'busy with something else.' Ron noticed that Harry looked away with an odd expression on his face.

_Harry knows what Neville's up to. Bet if I ask him, he doesn't say what it is._

And indeed, when Ron tried to ask Harry about Neville's doings, Harry gave an apologetic shrug and refused to answer. Ron let it go; he liked Neville but he figured whatever Neville was doing in his spare time was none of his business. And in any case, Ron had other things to be worrying about.

Such as end of term exams, which proved to be nothing short of a nightmare. The exams were what Professor McGonagall termed 'mock N.E.W.Ts.' Seamus asked hopefully if this meant that the marks they got on them didn't count, but McGonagall dashed those hopes by saying, 'Yes, Mr. Finnigan, they very much do count.'

And so the seventh years put their heads down and endured the winter exams. Ron found himself studying more than he ever had in his life. He had little free time to spend with Hermione, or Harry and Ginny, or anyone else. Head Boy duties became a chore, as well, in that he and Hermione were having to assist Professor McGonagall in making various safe transportation arrangements for the students going home for the holidays.

By the time the exams were half over, Ron felt as though his brain were melting. He found that the only way to keep his mind focused was to cut back on meditating to once a day. Firenze was not especially happy about this, but there was nothing to be done about it. In any case, the centaur was otherwise so pleased with Ron's progress in their training sessions that he agreed to cut back the sessions to twice a month instead of once a week.

A week before Christmas, Ron thankfully had only two exams left. In keeping with the overlap of Defense lessons and Charms, those exams were to be combined into one three hour session. The first hour was written and the second two practical. Ron awoke early on Monday morning and looked through some of his notes quickly--finally, after six and half years he was taking all his own notes--and then stretched carefully, ignoring the soreness in his muscles from the many weeks of physical activity that had become Charms and Defense lessons. He was grateful today's exam was the last.

He sat down to meditate, conjuring the portable fire and burning some herbs--he'd gotten a fresh supply from Firenze. Ron stared into the flames for a good minute, breathing deeply, and then he closed his eyes and inhaled the scents from the burning herbs. He began to hear voices...distant voices. Three of them. Two had decidedly foreign accents, and one was very familiar...

Ron gasped. Behind his closed eyelids he saw Charlie, pacing in an unfamiliar room, holding his wand. He looked agitated, even angry. Across from him was Igor Karkaroff. Ron squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to lose the vision. Charlie was talking...

_'If you run, I can't protect you,' said Charlie. _

_'If I don't run, they vill find me!' shouted Igor Karkaroff. _

_'Not if you continue to cooperate,' said Charlie forcefully._

_Karkaroff gave a derisive snort. 'This is not about protecting me,' he said. 'This is about protecting yourself. If they catch me, they vill make me talk, and I vill expose you and your precious Order. I know too much. I'm as dangerous to you as I am to them.'_

_'Don't flatter yourself, Igor,' Charlie snapped. 'You're right, I don't much care about you. I'm in this for the Order, not you. But you're in my custody and you're not going anywhere.'_

_'If I had a vand, I would--'_

_'But you don't, do you?' Charlie interrupted, gripping his own. 'Someone's going to steal dragon eggs from the compound in __Romania__, Igor. Who is it?'_

_'I don't know!' Karkaroff shouted. _

_'Bullshit,' said Charlie. 'Don't lie!'_

_'I svear I don't know,' said Karkaroff. 'I only know vat I vas told by...by my source. The Dark Lord vants dragons. He's...he vants them for experiments, he thinks he might be able to find a vay to better control them. That's all I know.'_

_Charlie eyed Karkaroff skeptically for a long moment, but then he nodded. _

_'Fine,' he said. 'That's useful, anyway. When can you meet with--'_

_Whatever Charlie was going to say was cut off by a loud explosion that blew apart the door behind him. He gave a yell, whirled round and aimed his wand at the destroyed door, but a flash of light exploded from out of the dust, and Charlie was hurled backwards. He landed painfully on his back on the stone floor, but clutched his wand firmly and aimed it again as four hooded Death Eaters burst into the small room, and everything happened at once._

'Expell_--' Charlie began._

'Silencio!_' shouted one of the Death Eaters. The voice was strong but feminine, and her spell struck Charlie squarely in the face. Before he could act, the Death Eater aimed her wand again._

'Confringere femoris!'_ she hissed, and Charlie gave a scream of pain as the jet of red light struck his leg; there was the sickening sound of bone breaking, shattering. The Death Eater then disarmed Charlie with a third spell, and his wand went clattering across the floor._

Ron's body jerked and he began to tremble; sweat poured down his forehead. Charlie was in trouble. Very big trouble.

_Almost as quickly as the violence started, it stopped, and the four Death Eaters circled round Charlie and Karkaroff. Charlie gripped his useless leg and gazed up at them, white-faced but defiant. Karkaroff was cowering in a corner. He didn't even try to grab for Charlie's wand, which was only five feet away._

_'Well, well, Weasley,' said the female Death Eater, and she pulled back her hood to reveal Helene Rosier. 'Fancy meeting you here.' She turned to Igor Karkaroff and smiled coldly. 'Thanks ever so much, Igor, for leading us to Mr. Weasley.'_

_Charlie's face contorted in rage. 'You son of a bitch,' he growled, glaring at Karkaroff. _

_'No,' said Karkaroff. 'No, no, I didn't...I svear...'_

_'It's true, Charles,' said Rosier, her smile cruel and hard. 'Igor didn't tell us where you were. He just wasn't very careful in his choice of company. His source helped us locate the two of you.'_

_Karkaroff blanched and shrank back against the wall._

_'Who's your source, Igor?' Charlie yelled._

_But Karkaroff was babbling incoherently and sobbing now._

_'No use asking him, Charles,' said Rosier. 'He's not really been much good to you, has he? Well, he hasn't been much good to us, either. So it appears poor Igor has entirely outlived his usefulness on all fronts.'_

_She curled her lip into a small sneer, and turned to face Karkaroff; she raised her wand and pointed it at Karkaroff, and already green sparks were forming at the tip._

_'Don't...' Charlie cried._

_'Please!' Karkaroff begged._

'Avada Kedavra,_' she said, in almost a whisper. There was a rush of green light, and Charlie and Karkaroff both screamed, but Karkaroff's scream went silent as the green light struck him in the chest. As he slumped to the floor, dead, his face was frozen in an expression of horror, his mouth open._

Ron moaned and gripped his head; the vision wouldn't let go, it was agony, he had to move, he had to warn McGonagall...he couldn't move...Charlie...

_'You evil bitch!'__ Charlie spat. _

_Helene Rosier turned back to Charlie. She knelt down in front of Charlie and ran a gloved finger across his cheek._

_'Don't touch me,' he hissed._

_Rosier smiled a cold, seductive smile. 'I do so hate using the Killing Curse,' she said, in a low voice. 'It's so dull, and it's over too fast.'_

_From behind her, three male voices laughed, the sounds filtering eerily out from their hoods._

_'You're sick,' Charlie wheezed, the pain of his leg getting to him now. 'You're all sick. You can't win this, you won't...'_

_'Shh,' said Rosier, putting a finger to Charlie's white, chapped lips. 'Don't bother yourself with the final outcome, Charles. You won't be there to see it.' She paused and traced her thumb over his lip; he jerked his head away._

_'I think I'll do you slowly,' she whispered. 'Have a little fun. Tell me, Charles, do you like pain?'_

_'Fuck you,' Charlie growled, and he spat in her face._

_For a split second Rosier recoiled, and then she laughed and licked Charlie's saliva from the corner of her lip, wiping the rest away with a gloved hand. She stood up and turned to one of the Death Eaters behind him._

_'_Rodolphus, pourquoi pas vous commencent des choses au loin?'_ she said. _'Vos méthodes sont toujours ainsi...inspirer.' (1)

_Rodolphus__ Lestrange pulled back his hood and smiled coldly down at Charlie._

'C'est mon plaisir,' (2)_ the Death Eater hissed. He lifted his wand and pointed it at Charlie._

_NO!_

There was a flash of white light, and a scream of pain that echoed in Ron's brain and suddenly Ron opened his eyes, and he was screaming, and the vision was gone. Vaguely, as if from very far away, he heard pounding.

Ron collapsed onto the floor, clutching his head. Nausea roiled through him and before he could stop himself, he rolled onto his side and vomited on the floor. And still the pounding went on.

He moaned, and suddenly the door to his room burst open.

'Ron!'

He looked up and saw Hermione running at him.

'Oh, God!' she cried, and she grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him up, but he was too heavy, he felt like deadweight. Why couldn't he move? He had to warn McGonagall, Charlie was in trouble!

'Ron, what is it?' Hermione cried.

Ron coughed and grimaced as, by sheer force of will, he picked himself up off the floor and rose to his knees. He had to get to McGonagall's office, this wasn't just an ordinary vision, he had a very, very bad feeling about it...like it could happen any moment, like he was too late, too late to save Charlie...

'Vision...' Ron croaked. 'Help me...I have to see McGonagall...'

'Ron, you're sick, you can't--'

'Charlie's in trouble!' Ron yelled.

Hermione's eyes widened and for a moment she seemed frozen in place, but then she nodded sharply.

'Come on, I'll help you,' she said firmly, and the two of them hobbled out of his room.

Almost at once they came face to face with two Aurors.

'We heard shouting,' said one of them, a short, muscular witch with spiky blonde hair.

'He needs to see the Headmistress right now,' said Hermione.

'Is he all right?' said the other Auror, a slim, wiry wizard with black hair.

'I'm fine!' Ron shouted angrily. 'I have to see McGonagall now!'

'Okay,' said the Auror witch. 'Just relax. We'll go with you.'

'We have to hurry,' said Ron, feeling that with every passing second, Charlie was one step closer to dying.

The four of them rushed through the corridors as quickly as they could, considering that Ron was still dizzy and trying to get his feet under him. He didn't notice that he was still in his pyjamas and hadn't even bothered with a dressing gown, or that the cold stone of the floor was painfully cold on his bare feet.

They rounded a corner and ran into Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

'Watch it!' Malfoy snapped, and then he sneered. 'Nice outfit, Weasley.'

'Sod off, Malfoy,' Ron growled.

'Why are you such a hurry?' Malfoy asked, stepping in front of Ron again.

'None of your business, Draco!' Hermione snapped.

'Shut up, Mudblood,' Pansy snapped.

'Go to hell!' Hermione bit back, and she pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at Pansy's nose. 'Now get out of the way, you _stupid cow_, or I'll--'

'That's enough,' said an icy voice, and the group of them turned to see Professor McGonagall striding angrily toward them. She glowered at Hermione. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'Professor, Granger threatened me--' Pansy began.

'I was addressing Miss Granger,' McGonagall snapped, without looking at Pansy. Pansy flushed angrily and went quiet, but she and Draco fixed murderous looks at the back of McGonagall's head.

'Ron needs to talk to you,' said Hermione. 'It's important.'

'I would imagine so, considering his state of dress,' said McGonagall. She turned sharply to the two Aurors. 'Escort Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson to the Great Hall. They'll be wanting their breakfasts.'

Malfoy scowled at McGonagall, but both he and Pansy allowed themselves to be led away. Pansy turned back and curled her lip into a sneer as she glared at Ron. Ron was just about to make a very rude gesture at Pansy when McGonagall spoke.

'Shall we go to my office, Mr. Weasley, or can you fill me in on your urgent news here?'

Ron whirled back to McGonagall and swallowed. By now Draco and Pansy had turned the corner and the corridors were empty. Ron leaned forward slightly.

'It's Charlie,' he whispered. 'I saw something. He was in a meeting with Karkaroff and they were attacked by Death Eaters. It was really bad...the vision...I think...I'm not sure when it's going to happen but it feels like it could be really soon--'

'Enough,' said McGonagall. 'Come with me.'

Professor McGonagall had left them in her office for the past twenty minutes, and it was the longest twenty minutes of Ron's life. Hermione sat quietly in a chair and said nothing, and Ron was immensely grateful for this as he paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. He needed the silence, he couldn't sit down. The only thing McGonagall had told them was to stay in her office and wait until she returned.

There was a bang as the door swung open, but instead of McGonagall, it was Ginny and Harry.

'Ron!' Ginny cried, racing into his arms. 'What's going on, some Auror came and mentioned something about Charlie—'

'Ron's had a vision,' said Hermione, struggling to keep her voice calm. 'Charlie got hurt in it. There were Death Eaters.'

Ginny blanched and grabbed Harry's hand.

'But he'll be okay, won't he?' Harry asked.

'Dunno,' said Ron, feeling sick again. 'The vision went away before I could…see the end of it.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Okay,' he said. 'Okay. Look, we just…have to wait and…and stay calm.'

Another five minutes passed, and another, and finally Ron felt himself crack.

'What the bloody hell is taking so long?' he bit out.

Hermione grabbed his hand and he stopped pacing and looked down at her. She stood up and embraced him about his waist; Ron's arms automatically encircled her.

'I'm scared,' he heard himself say. 'What if...shit...I just have this feeling...what if I didn't see it in time?'

Hermione said nothing, because there was nothing she could say. She held onto him and he to her. Harry and Ginny clutched hands, and Ginny seemed to be willing herself to maintain some semblance of calm as they waited for McGonagall to return. After another fifteen minutes, she did, and her presence was announced by the sharp bang of her door as it opened.

Ron and Hermione broke apart quickly, but McGonagall didn't seem to notice they had been embracing. Instead she stopped in front of Ron and Ginny.

'Your brother is alive,' she said.

Ron let out a breath of relief, but Ginny bit her lip and looked troubled.

'He's alive...' she said, 'but...'

'He's been hurt,' McGonagall said. 'Badly. The Death Eaters got to him before we could.'

Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, and Ron swallowed as his stomach dropped to the floor.

'Jesus...' he whispered.

'They surprised the Death Eaters, and there was a fight,' said McGonagall. 'Your brother was badly injured and disarmed but he managed to get his wand. He killed one of the Death Eaters, but one of the Aurors died in the fight as well, and the other Death Eaters escaped. Your brother's been taken to the local magical hospital and is being treated as we speak. His injuries are...severe, but it looks like he'll pull through. Your parents have been informed of this, and they have arranged to have Charles come home once he is fit to travel.'

Ron let out another breath. 'Thank god,' he murmured. Ginny was suddenly there beside him and took his hand.

'Your brother gave us some very valuable information before he was taken to hospital, Mr. Weasley,' said McGonagall. 'In saving his life, you might help prevent a greater disaster.'

Ron nodded weakly. 'The dragons?'

'Dragons?' Harry asked.

'Yes,' said McGonagall. 'I cannot go into any details, naturally, but Charlie Weasley was able to put us one step ahead of Voldemort's plans.'

Harry looked as if he wanted to ask more questions, but the look on McGonagall's face must have stopped him. She turned to Ron and Ginny.

'Are you both fit to go to lessons today?' she asked. 'To sit your exams?'

Ron blinked, and met her eyes. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I mean, yes, I am.'

'Me, too,' said Ginny firmly.

'Are you sure?' she asked. 'I'm happy to make your excuses if you feel a visit to Madam Pomfrey is in order.'

'No, thank you,' said Ron at once, shaking his head, and suddenly he remembered something. 'Er...what about...Karkaroff?'

McGonagall stiffened just slightly. 'Igor Karkaroff is dead.'

* * *

'What's Voldemort want with dragons?' Harry hissed, the moment they were out of McGonagall's office.

'What do you think?' said Ron in a low voice, glancing at the Auror ahead of them to make sure he wasn't listening. 'He wants to do experiments on them and learn how to...train them or something. Then he can set them loose on cities or villages. All the dragons have to do is breathe and a whole town would go up in flames.'

'Rubbish,' said Hermione at once.

'Not rubbish,' said Ron. 'My brother works with dragons, remember, I know a little bit about them, and Harry flew up against one--'

'I'm not saying your point is rubbish, Ron,' said Hermione. 'The rubbish is Voldemort thinking he has a hope in Hades of actually getting dragons tame enough to do what he wants.'

'Hermione's right,' said Ginny. 'It's really hard to use magic on dragons, anyway, what with their tough skins.'

'And let's not forget,' Harry muttered, 'Hagrid tried to raise a dragon once and it didn't exactly work out, did it?'

Ron grimaced. He didn't really want to imagine what Hagrid was doing now, where he was. Did he know about Dumbledore? Ron could only imagine Hagrid's reaction to the news. He would flood his pumpkin patch with his crying.

'Well,' said Ron, 'Hopkirk said Voldemort is starting to get a bit sick because he's got Harry's blood in him. Maybe he's going mental. Not that he wasn't mental before.'

'Let's talk about this later, Ron,' Hermione whispered, when the Auror in front of them turned back to watch them.

* * *

'Are you sure you're going to be okay, Ron?' Hermione asked, as they entered his room.

'Yeah,' said Ron dully. 'I'll be fine.'

Ginny had gone to breakfast with Harry with assurances that she was, indeed, just fine.

He glanced over at the floor and noticed the small pool of vomit there, that had started to harden in his absence, and he grimaced.

'I've got that,' said Hermione quickly, and she aimed her wand at the mess and vanished it, then applied a Scouring Charm for good measure. She turned to Ron and looked at him with a concerned expression.

'You're feeling guilty about Karkaroff, aren't you?' she said perceptively.

'I just...why didn't I see that sooner?' he asked.

'I don't know,' said Hermione truthfully. 'I don't...understand the way Seer things work.'

Ron nodded. 'At least Charlie's going to be okay,' he said.

'And he's coming home,' said Hermione. 'That's good news. You'll see him over Christmas.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, and he looked at his bed and suddenly felt exhausted. He wished he could crawl into it and bury himself under the covers, and wake up when the stupid war was all over.

'Ron, maybe you should talk to Firenze about this,' Hermione said gently.

Ron looked at her and felt a lump in his throat. They had come so far together, the two of them. She wasn't trying to force him to talk to her, as she might have done in the past. She was instead offering a gentle suggestion on how to deal with things on his own, and he was grateful for that, grateful for her, and grateful to fate or god or whatever that she was his girl.

'I'll do that,' he said. 'I need a shower.'

'You're sure you want to do your exams?'

'Yeah,' he said fervently. 'Better to get it over with.'

* * *

By the end of the day, Ron felt more like himself. True, the Charms/Defense exam had been long and arduous, but the physical activity had brought him back to himself and taken his mind off the lingering twinge of guilt about Karkaroff's murder. Ron made a mental note to seek out Firenze for a chat later that night, after dinner.

It was early evening and Ron and Hermione were heading to the Great Hall for dinner when they came face to face with two Aurors, Ginny, and their mother.

'Mum?' said Ron.

'Mrs. Weasley!' said Hermione.

'Hello, Hermione dear,' said Mrs. Weasley, in a rushed sort of voice. 'Ron, I need to speak with you and Ginny right now.'

'What are you doing here?' Ron asked. 'Ginny, where's Harry?'

'He's helping Neville with something,' said Ginny, and she scowled just slightly. 'He wouldn't tell me what it was, so don't ask.'

'I wasn't going to,' said Ron, suddenly supremely unconcerned about what Harry was doing with Neville. He looked at his mother. 'Mum, what's going on?'

'I'll explain everything, let's just get to your room, all right?' said Mrs. Weasley, and she lowered her voice. 'What I have to say I can't discuss out here.'

'But what about dinner?' said Ron, and on cue, his stomach rumbled.

'Ron, honestly,' said Hermione, 'I'll bring you something later--'

'I can do that!' said a high, squeaky voice.

Ron and Hermione looked at one another in confusion.

'I is eager to help!' said the voice again and Ron and Hermione looked down to see...

'Winky?' they said weakly, in unison.

'Winky is working for Mr. and Mrs. Wheezy!' said the little house elf, and she curtsied to Ron and Hermione. She wore a simple beige tea-towel that, clearly, Mrs. Weasley had fashioned into a sort of dress, and a small apron about her waist.

'Since when?' said Ron, astonished. Hermione was gawping at Winky like a fish out of water.

'For the past few months,' said Mrs. Weasley impatiently. 'Now let's go. Hermione dear, forgive us, but Ron will have to see you later.'

'That's...fine, Mrs. Weasley,' said Hermione, looking at her, and then at Winky. 'I'll see you later, Ron,' she added, pecking him quickly on the cheek and walking toward the Great Hall.

'Please tell me you're paying Winky, Mum,' said Ron, in a low voice.

'Oh, no!' said Winky brightly. 'Winky is not wanting pay!'

'I've tried, dear,' said Mrs. Weasley in a low voice, addressing Ron, 'but she just won't accept any money.' She turned her attention to Winky.

'Winky, would you mind fetching some dinner for us and bringing it to Ron's room? You know the one, the Head Boy's room?'

Ron noticed that his mother said 'Head Boy' with no small amount of pride in her voice, and he rolled his eyes; Ginny caught him at it and smiled.

'Oh, yes, Mrs. Wheezy!' Winky babbled. 'I is fetching you wonderful things to eat!'

'Say hi to Dobby!' Ron called, as the little house elf went bobbling off toward the kitchens.

'Ron, let's go,' said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and he followed his mother and Ginny toward his room.'

* * *

They entered Ron's room, and he sealed the door shut behind them.

'I couldn't owl you about Charlie,' said Mrs. Weasley, in a firm voice. 'I'm sorry for that.'

'It's okay,' said Ron. 'We understand. Security and everything.'

'I just wanted you both to know that your father's with him, and Charlie's going to be fine,' said Mrs. Weasley, and her voice began to shake slightly. 'His leg was very badly injured--the bones were shattered and will have to be regrown--and he was bleeding quite badly when he was brought to hospital but the healers...they patched him up in a trice. He'll have to wear a leg brace for a bit but he's coming home Christmas Eve. Arthur's going to stay with him until then. The security is extremely tight at the hospital, I'm told. Lots of wards and spells and they're using trolls...'

Her voice broke off, and she turned away from her son and daughter. Ron watched his mother for a moment, and suddenly saw her shoulders begin to shake.

'Hey, Mum...'

Mrs. Weasley let out a sob.

Ron crossed the room and hugged her. 'It's okay, Mum, Charlie's okay,' he said.

'I know,' Mrs. Weasley whimpered. 'It's just...I don't know how much more I can take. First Arthur, then Percy, then Charlie...are all of you going to get yourselves horribly injured and put me through hell?' She laughed bitterly as she pulled herself out of Ron's embrace.

Ron and Ginny laughed with her, and for a moment nobody said a word.

'I didn't just come here to tell you about your brother,' she said, sniffing. 'I suppose this could have waited until you come home at the weekend but...I want you both to be careful.'

'Of course we'll be careful,' said Ginny at once.

'Now listen to me, young lady,' said Mrs. Weasley firmly. 'I know you're both very close to Harry, and you know I love Harry as a son. And we all know Harry would never do anything to get you hurt. I don't blame Harry for what's happened over the past few years, with you lot running after him to fight Death Eaters, although Merlin knows if I had any sense I'd have locked you all in the attic with the ghoul.'

'Mum--' Ginny began.

'I'm just saying,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'I know how you both are. You're going to want to help Harry and I know I can't stop you and I know...I know he'll need your help. But...' Her eyes filled again. 'Just please...look after yourselves, and each other, all right? Don't go doing anything stupid.'

'I won't,' said Ginny. 'I'm not so sure about Ron, though.'

'Very funny,' said Ron sarcastically, but Mrs. Weasley laughed.

'You two,' she said fondly. 'I can't believe my two youngest babies have grown up.'

'Mum,' said Ron, flushing with embarrassment.

'I'm so proud of you both,' she said, smiling tearfully.

'Mum, knock it off,' said Ginny, blushing herself.

'Oh, stop,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'I'm your mother, I changed your dirty diapers. I'm allowed to embarrass you.'

Before Mrs. Weasley could embarrass them further, however, there was a knock at the door.

Ron waved his wand at his door and said, 'Come in,' and the door swung open.

'I is here!' Winky cried, but Ron could hardly see her, for on her head was balanced one food tray, and on each hand rested another. Each wobbled dangerously. 'Here is Wheezys' dinners!'

'Thank you, Winky, dear,' said Mrs. Weasley, rushing over to fetch the trays before they all came crashing down.

'Say, Winky,' said Ron, 'are you sure you wouldn't like...a little...Knut for your trouble?'

Winky let out a little wail and put her hands over her ears. 'Oh no! Mr. Wheezy is not offering Winky wages! Winky is not wanting wages!'

'All right, all right,' said Ron quickly, putting up his hands.

'It's all right, Winky,' said Mrs. Weasley, giving Ron a dark look before turning her attention back to the house elf. 'Ron didn't mean anything by that.'

Winky let out a breath of relief. 'Is there anything more Wheezys require?'

'No, Winky, thank you,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Why don't you...have a break? I'd like to catch up with Ron and Ginny.'

'Yes, Mrs. Wheezy,' said Winky, and she curtsied and walked with great dignity from the room.

'Ron, did you really have to offer her money?' said Mrs. Weasley, shaking her head. 'Honestly. I told you I've tried but the poor thing just goes into hysterics at the mere mention of getting paid.'

'It was just a thought,' said Ron, glaring at Ginny, who was giggling at him behind her hand.

* * *

An hour later, Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Ginny finished their dinner and left his room; Mrs. Weasley was to Floo out of McGonagall's fireplace back to Grimmauld Place.

As they rounded the corner, they were met by Hermione

'Oh!' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Hello, dear.'

'Hi, Mrs. Weasley,' she said. She leaned closer. 'How's Charlie?'

'He'll be okay,' said Mrs. Weasley, smiling at her fondly. 'Thanks for getting Ron to Minerva's office.' Hermione nodded and smiled back, but then her attention fell on Winky.

'Hello, Winky,' said Hermione sweetly. Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

_Uh oh..._

'How do you like working for the Weasleys?' she asked.

'Winky is enjoying being the Wheezys house elf very much, miss,' said Winky politely, but Ron noticed there was a wariness to her gaze as she looked at Hermione.

'And how do you like getting p--' Hermione began.

'She loves it,' said Ron quickly. 'It's great, really. Mum gives her loads, don't you, Mum?'

Ron gave his mother a significant look.

Mrs. Weasley stared at Ron for a moment, and then seemed to understand Ron's meaning.

'Oh, yes,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Well, of course, Fred and George help out, but...Winky is very well compensated.'

'But Mrs. Wheezy!' said Winky. 'I is not--'

'Needing all that much,' Ron finished. 'Which is good because, well, we're not really rolling in it, are we? Listen, Hermione, Gin and I are going to walk Mum to Professor McGonagall's office. Can we meet you back in the common room?'

'Sure,' said Hermione, looking at him suspiciously. 'I'll see you shortly.'

'Yeah, shortly,' said Ron, grinning a bit too widely.

_She is _so_ not fooled. I am in for a lecture later. _

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and followed his mother and Ginny; Ginny was still laughing silently behind her hand.

They walked quickly through the corridors toward and turned a corner; at the same moment Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle came from the opposite direction. Nott collided with Ginny, and they both stumbled. Ron caught Ginny and Goyle caught Nott.

'Watch where you're going!' Nott snarled, glaring at Ginny.

'Shut up, Nott,' Ginny snarled, righting herself.

Ron rolled his eyes. How many times was he going to run into Slytherins today? As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

'Children, really!' said Mrs. Weasley 'This is no way to--'

'Who the hell are you?' Nott snapped rudely, but before Mrs. Weasley could register her indignation he chuckled.

'Never mind, I know,' he said, sneering at Ron. 'Does everyone in your family have the same ridiculous hair, Weasley?'

'Eat dung, Nott,' Ron snapped.

'Ron, really,' Mrs. Weasley hissed, and she turned to Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. 'You boys go on. And learn some manners while you're at it.'

'I don't have to listen to you,' Nott snarled.

'No, but you do have to listen to me,' Ron barked. 'I'm Head Boy, see. Keep being rude and you lot get detention.'

'Ooh, we're really scared,' Nott mocked. 'Hear that, Crabbe, Goyle? Weasley's _Head Boy.'_

'That's enough,' said a stern voice, and Ron turned to see Professor McGonagall approaching, looking irritated.

'You boys,' she said, nodding at Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. 'Move along.'

'Yes, Headmistress,' said Nott, smiling coldly. Crabbe and Goyle started to stump off, but Nott shot one last glare at Ron and Ginny.

'By the way,' he said, 'lucky thing about your brother.'

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley both gasped; Ron blanched, and then went red in the face.

'What did you say?' he snarled, advancing on Nott. Mrs. Weasley grabbed his sleeve.

'Ron,' she muttered.

'Mr. Weasley,' said Professor McGonagall, a note of warning in her voice. She turned back to Nott. 'Move along, Mr. Nott. Right now. And go straight to your common room.' She nodded to an Auror pacing several feet away.

'Stebbins, would you mind?'

'Not at all, Professor,' said Stebbins, a stocky, barrel-chested Auror with sandy hair. He gave Nott a curt nod. 'Gentlemen?'

Nott sneered at Ron once more, and then gave Mrs. Weasley a hateful look before sweeping down the corridor behind Stebbins, with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

'What was that?' Ron said, through gritted teeth. 'How can he know about Charlie?'

'From his father,' said Professor McGonagall, with a look of deep distaste on her face.

'That boy's father was there when Charlie got hurt?' said Mrs. Weasley, in a horrified voice.

'Not here, Molly,' McGonagall whispered. 'Please, in my office.'

* * *

'So you're saying,' said Ron furiously, as he paced around McGonagall's office, 'that Theodore Nott's dad was one of the Death Eaters who tried to murder my brother. And that prat son of his is allowed to just...walk about the school, la di da, no problem?'

'Ron, please control yourself,' said Mrs. Weasley.

'Mum, Nott's dad tried to kill Charlie!' said Ron. 'And you just know Theodore's a member of Voldemort's crew now. Has anyone checked his forearm lately for any tattooes?'

'Mr. Weasley,' said McGonagall imperiously, 'I understand your concern and your anger, but your temper is not helping. For the record, Theodore and his friends Vincent and Gregory are being closely watched by their Head of House--'

'Snape,' said Ron. 'And what can Snape do, exactly, now his cover's blown?'

'Professor Snape, Ronald,' said McGonagall sharply. 'And Severus is capable of doing quite a lot more than you know.'

'Can Nott be expelled?' Ginny asked.

'He can, if he is caught doing something worthy of expulsion,' said McGonagall. 'I'm sorry for you both, believe me. This is the not the first time I've had to teach the children of Death Eaters. But this is a school and we are governed by very clear rules. We cannot go expelling students based on vague suspicions, or based on their relatives extracurricular activities.'

'Extracurricular--you're calling that--his dad tried to MURDER CHARLIE!' Ron yelled.

'Ron!' Mrs. Weasley snapped, getting up and smacking him on the back of the head, hard. 'That's enough. How dare you raise your voice to the Headmistress!'

'Ow, Mum,' Ron hissed, rubbing the back of his head angrily. He opened his mouth to say something else but Ginny grabbed his hand and squeezed. At once he felt a flood of calming emotion fill him, and he relaxed and let out a breath.

He looked at Professor McGonagall sheepishly, and then at his mother.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'I'm sorry. I was out of line.'

Mrs. Weasley harrumphed and Ron was sure he heard her mutter 'Head Boy and he's acting like a hooligan...'

McGonagall, however, looked unfazed. 'I sympathize with you all,' she said. 'But we have no legal basis for taking action against Theodore Nott, or his friends, at this time. And perhaps you should consider, Mr. Weasley, that it is far better to have them here, where we can keep an eye on them, than to remove them from school and send them out into the world.'

Ron swallowed and grimaced. 'I hadn't thought about that.'

'No,' said McGonagall shortly, but Ron could swear the corners of her mouth were twitching as if she were trying not to smile. 'Now, if you don't mind,' she added, 'I need to speak with your mother alone for a moment, so do say your goodbyes and go back to Gryffindor Tower.'

Ron hugged his mother, and Ginny followed.

'Behave yourselves,' said Mrs. Weasley, as Ron and Ginny left McGonagall's office.

They went back to the common room to find it empty, save for Harry and Hermione. Hermione stood up at once.

'Hermione, before you say anything, my mum's been trying to pay Winky but she goes spare every time Mum brings it up--'

'Forget about that,' said Hermione at once, and she turned and looked at Harry. Ron followed suit. He could feel Ginny tense up behind him.

'What?' said Ron at once, alarmed by the look on Harry's face.

'Voldemort knows,' he said. 'He knows there's a Seer working against him.'

* * *

**(1) Rodolphus, why don't you get things started? Your methods are always so...inspiring.**

**(2) It's my pleasure**

**(Translations courtesy of WorldLingo)**


	32. Chapter Thirty Two: Draco's Obsession

  
  
**A/N: This chapter contains some sexual content.**

_Chapter Thirty-Two: Draco's Obsession_

Ron swallowed at the implications of Harry's statement.

Ginny crossed the room and took Harry's hand.

'What happened?' she asked. 'You had a vision?'

'Barely,' said Harry darkly, not rising from the sofa. 'Just a flash. Voldemort might be getting sick or whatever because of my blood but he's still able to keep me out of his head.'

'What did you see, Harry?' Ginny asked, taking his hands in hers.

'Just Voldemort yelling at some Death Eaters,' said Harry. 'I couldn't see who they were. Voldemort just said "Find the Seer".'

'Bloody hell,' said Ron, sitting down heavily in the chair across from Harry.

'I don't think he knows it's you, Ron,' said Harry.

'But he could,' said Ginny.

'I don't see how,' said Harry. 'The only way he'd find out if is someone here in school knew and told him or one of the Death Eaters. Nobody knows but us and McGonagall.'

'What about Nott?' said Ron.

'What about him?'

'We ran into him when we went to take Mum to McGonagall's office,' said Ron. 'Nott said "lucky thing about your brother".'

'Ron, he would have known that from his father,' said Ginny.

'Are you sure about that?' said Ron. 'I had that vision at the Halloween ball, remember?'

'Nott didn't see that,' said Harry, and this his face darkened. 'But Malfoy and Pansy did.'

'That doesn't mean they knew what was going on,' said Hermione, but then she bit her lip. 'On the other hand...'

'He and Pansy saw us going to McGonagall's office right after I had that vision about Charlie,' said Ron.

'Malfoy doesn't know,' said Ginny firmly.

'Are you sure?' said Harry doubtfully.

'Positive,' said Ginny firmly. 'I would have sensed it. No way could Malfoy hide his feelings on something like that.'

'What about Pansy?' said Harry. 'Do you think she could have figured it out?'

'Pansy Parkinson?' said Hermione disbelievingly. 'That brainless twit? You must be joking.'

'If Malfoy knew he could have told Pansy--' Ron began.

'Malfoy doesn't know,' Ginny insisted.

'But if he did,' said Ron, 'he would have told her. She's his only friend now.'

Harry looked at her for a moment, and then swallowed. He seemed to be steeling himself to ask a difficult question.

'Ginny, are you really sure?' he said. 'Malfoy could be...playing with you.'

Ginny bristled. 'I'd know it if he were,' she said, in a tone that brooked no argument on the subject. 'Malfoy doesn't know anything.'

Harry let it drop, but Ron couldn't help but wonder.

Then again, something about Nott wouldn't let up...

'My money's still on Nott,' said Ron finally. 'He was way too cocky about what he said.'

'Ron, we don't even know if Voldemort is aware it could be a Hogwarts student,' said Ginny, but her voice sounded doubtful.

'Come on, Ginny,' said Harry gently. 'You know Voldemort's going to be looking around here.'

Ginny pursed her lips and nodded.

'So that means someone in this school has to be helping him,' said Ron.

'Nott,' said Harry. 'Or Malfoy.'

'Or someone else we haven't even considered,' said Hermione. 'We can't just assume it would be a Slytherin, even if they are the most likely candidates.'

'Who else could it be?' said Harry.

'I dunno,' said Hermione.

'What about Blaise and Daphne?' said Ginny. 'Do you think they might know something?'

'Possibly,' said Ron. 'The question is, can we trust them? They might not be Death Eaters in training but they are Slytherins, they might want to protect their own regardless.'

'Not necessarily,' said Harry. He paused, and said, 'I suppose I could bring it up with Daphne. Not the specifics but...you know, if she has any suspicions she's willing to share.'

'Why you?' said Ginny, in an even voice that nonetheless had an edge to it.

'Why not me?' said Harry, shrugging. 'I'm the only one of us who really knows her at all.'

Ginny gave him a look. 'Fine,' she said at last, and Ron sensed it at once. Ginny was none too pleased about Harry's suggestion. Ron glanced at Hermione, who gave him a significant look.

'Maybe I should be the one to talk to Daphne,' said Hermione gently. 'I could pull her aside after a prefect meeting. She might be more comfortable talking to me, anyway, seeing as I...well, never mind.'

'Never snogged her,' Ginny mumbled.

Harry snorted. 'You're not jealous?'

'Oh, please,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. 'As I should ever be jealous of that silly, self-absorbed bubblehead.'

'Daphne isn't a bubblehead,' Harry protested.

'Harry, drop it,' Ron muttered through gritted teeth.

'But--'

Ron shook his head quickly and widened his eyes at Harry, who finally got the hint.

'You're right, Hermione,' he said. 'You should talk to Daphne. I never really liked her much, anyway.'

'Nice save,' Ron mumbled under his breath. Harry punched him in the arm. Ginny pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

'What about the other suspects?' said Hermione. 'Nott and Malfoy?'

'Well, I've got one more training session with Malfoy, on Thursday night,' said Ginny. Harry stiffened slightly at this, but said nothing. 'I could try and...manipulate him a little, get him to open up.'

'I don't like the sound of that,' said Harry.

'I don't like the idea of doing it,' said Ginny, sighing, 'but if there really is a student who's...spying for Voldemort--'

'I know,' said Harry glumly.

'I'm almost finished with him, Harry,' said Ginny reassuringly. 'Just another month or two.'

Harry looked at her and smiled, and nodded. Then he took another breath.

'This stinks,' he said at last. 'I've been trying to get inside his head directly, but it's no good. And...I don't get it. If he's really weakened because of my blood, how is it he's able to block me nearly all the time now? The only time he lets his guard down is when he's angry and even then...'

'Maybe he's got new blood by now,' said Hermione. 'Or figured out some way to at least hold off the debilitating effects of yours. Dammit. I really need to finish those codes, I just haven't had the time...'

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'We'll figure it out...somehow.'

'We need to tell McGonagall,' said Hermione.

'Shit,' said Ron suddenly. 'And Firenze. Damn, I meant to talk to him earlier tonight.'

'Harry, Ginny and I will go to McGonagall,' said Hermione. 'You go to Firenze, let him know what's going on.'

'Yeah,' said Ron. The four of them got up and left the common room. As Ron split off from the rest of them to head toward the Divination classroom, the image of Nott taunting him played over and over in his mind like an endless loop.

* * *

'It is terribly late now, isn't it, Ronald?' said Professor Trelawney, ushering Ron into the Divination classroom. It had been changed so that half the space perfectly resembled Trelawney's old North Tower room, and the other half was a smaller version of the glade in the Forbidden Forest.

'Yeah, sorry about that,' said Ron. 'I really need to speak with Professor Firenze.'

'Oh, dear, he has surely retired for the evening,' said Trelawney, pushing her huge glasses up her nose. 'Perhaps I can assist you; Firenze is a fine teacher of Divination but I dare say he lacks true Sight, which is a gift only humans can--'

'Mr. Weasley,' came Firenze's voice, sparing Ron from spending more uncomfortable time in Trelawney's company. 'May I ask why you're here?'

'Ah, Professor Firenze,' said Trelawney, sounding annoyed. 'You're keeping...late hours.'

'I rather enjoy gazing at the stars,' said Firenze. 'They tell me much.'

'Of course they do,' said Trelawney sweetly. She started to say something else but Ron quickly jumped in.

'I need to speak with you, sir,' he said, looking at Firenze.

'Of course, Ronald,' said Firenze, and he turned with a swish of his palomino tail. 'Follow me.'

Ron gave Trelawney a quick nod and followed the centaur into his make-believe glade. When they were quite alone, Firenze turned and looked down at Ron.

'What troubles you, Ronald?'

'Voldemort knows about me,' said Ron. 'Well, he doesn't know about me, but he knows there's a Seer who's working against him. He might know it's me, only I don't see how because nobody's said anything. But he's probably got someone inside the school trying to find out if there's a Seer here--'

Firenze put up a hand. 'You need say no more,' he said. 'It was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord figured out that a Seer was working against his...interests.'

'What if he finds out it's me?' said Ron nervously.

'Then he would want to find you and take you,' said Firenze, without preamble. 'A Seer is a powerful weapon, as you know by now. The Dark One would want such a weapon working for him.'

'I'd never work for him,' Ron growled.

'Not voluntarily,' said Firenze. 'Tell me, Ronald, how are you at throwing off the Imperius Curse?'

Ron gulped. 'Er...not so good.'

Firenze nodded. 'Then I suggest you work on improving your skills in that area. Even if you were not a Seer, the Dark One would see you as a valuable tool to use against Harry Potter.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Ron heavily.

'Something else is bothering you, Ronald, I can sense it,' said Firenze.

'It's just...' Ron said slowly. 'That last vision I had, about my brother...it was really close. I've never been that close before, having a vision like that. Usually there's more, I dunno, lead time before...before stuff happens. Why was that one such a close call?'

Firenze took a deep breath. 'Even the most gifted Seer cannot see everything.'

_Gee, thanks. That helps._

'But,' Ron protested, 'I thought you said...I mean...if I, as a human, am more able to see stuff that happens to people, then...wouldn't it stand to reason that I'd be able to see stuff about my own brother? Sooner rather than later?'

'Not necessarily,' said Firenze. 'You have become very skilled and powerful, Ronald, but even the best Seers are caught off guard.'

'Yes, but--'

'No buts,' said Firenze. 'Ronald, know this. There will come a time when your gifts will not be enough to stop the evil that the Dark One and his minions do.'

'That's already happened,' said Ron glumly. 'Karkaroff...he's dead.'

'Yes,' said Firenze. 'I know. But before you go blaming yourself, Ronald, I would ask you to consider that there was nothing you can have done to prevent his dying. He was already marked for death. It was only a matter of time before his murderers caught up with him.'

Ron stared up at Firenze, crestfallen. 'Then what's the point of me doing all this stuff?' he said desperately. 'If I can't help people--'

'You've already helped countless people,' Firenze interrupted.

'But...' Ron said weakly, feeling as if something was slipping away from him.

'You cannot save everyone, Ronald,' said Firenze. 'Igor Karkaroff's death is tragic, but if you begin to carry the deaths of those whose possible futures you see inside your soul, you will go mad from the guilt and grief. And as for Karkaroff, his death might seem meaningless to you now but who is to say his death won't serve a higher purpose? Much that happens in life is beyond our immediate understanding, and it is only in hindsight that we find true insight. Perhaps Karkaroff's death was necessary for the greater good.'

Ron scowled. 'That's a horrible thing to say.'

'The truth if often horrible,' said Firenze, his voice hard. 'Many will die before Harry Potter faces his destiny. Wars are never fought, or won, without spilling the blood of the innocent. But if the deaths of the innocent are not to be in vain, Ronald, you yourself cannot afford to wallow in the despair of loss. It is written in the stars that Harry Potter will face the Dark One alone, but he cannot get there without help. You are no help to him if you take on greater burdens than you can realistically bear.'

Ron swallowed and nodded. It made his heart hurt to think of it, but he knew Firenze was right. Ron couldn't save everyone. Not even Harry could do that. People were going to die. People had already died.

'Sir,' Ron asked, 'what will Voldemort do, now he knows there's a Seer? I mean, apart from trying to find out who it is and get him, er, me? Hermione said...he'd try to get around me.'

'Miss Granger is correct,' said Firenze. 'Voldemort's options are limited; he knows he cannot fully defeat the powers of a True Seer. But he will try to distract you. He will increase the number and frequency of his attacks. He will attempt to create diversions. The more attacks that happen at once, the greater his chances of successfully completing at least a few at a time. And the number of his minions grows every day. He can plan multiple attacks and diversions. It is perhaps not the ideal situation for him, but if he can keep the various governments occupied with trying to stop his forces, he will tax their resources even as he manages to wear down his enemy's resistance, little by little. This will not be a war of countries or armies, at least not for now.'

'What should I do?' said Ron. 'In the meantime?'

Firenze looked at Ron thoughtfully for a long moment. 'Do not give anyone you do not know or trust any reason to suspect what you are. Keep up with your meditations and your journals.'

'That's...that's it?' said Ron, disappointed, although if he were honest with himself he couldn't imagine what else he could do.

'That's it,' said Firenze. 'That...and keep your family, your friends, the people you love...very close. The danger for all of them is far greater now. Especially for Miss Granger and her parents.'

* * *

'Ron, I already told you I have to spend the holidays with my parents,' said Hermione.

They were sitting in his room, on his bed, waiting for Harry and Ginny; two days had passed, and Hermione had worked out nearly all the rest of the codes, save one, and had wanted to go over them. Ron, however, didn't want to go over anything at all until Hermione agreed that she and her parents should be spending the holidays at Order headquarters, or even the Burrow, which had three times as many wards on it now as it had over the summer. There was no doubt in Ron's mind that either place was safer than the Granger residence.

'Hermione, please,' Ron begged. 'Firenze said--'

'I know what he said,' said Hermione, sounding tired. 'You've told me a million times over the past two days. Ron...my parents never get to see me much anymore. They miss me. And...and they feel so left out of the wizarding world.'

'But my parents--'

'It's nobody's fault,' said Hermione quickly. 'Ron...you're not Muggle-born, you can't possibly understand...'

Ron bristled. 'Try me,' he said, feeling slightly offended.

'It's just...' said Hermione, 'sometimes I think that they think they don't know me anymore. And in a way they're right. They don't know me. They've tried so hard all these years to be supportive and accepting and they are, they really are but...look, you yourself don't understand much about the Muggle world, right? And you try, but it's still a bit...beyond you, isn't it?'

Ron shrugged. He had to concede she had a point. 'I guess so.'

'Well, it's the same with my parents,' she said. 'Magic is this weird and frightening thing to them, it's not...normal, for them. I'm not saying they think it's bad, it's just that it's so different from what they're used to. I just...I wanted to be able to spend time in their world, for their sake. Do you understand?'

Ron let out a breath. 'Yeah,' he admitted, but he took her hands in his. 'But...Hermione, you said it yourself. When Voldemort finds out about a Seer, he'll try to work around it. Firenze said the same thing. I dunno if I'll be able to...to protect you now, if you're somewhere else.'

'Ron, my parents' house has a million wards on it, Aurors are watching over them all the time--'

'That's not the point,' said Ron, 'and you know it. Those Aurors don't...if something happened to you...they're not...they don't love you, and I do and...'

His voice broke against a lump that had formed in his throat. He got up and started to pace, blinking his eyes against the burning in them.

'You don't know what it's like,' he said finally. 'I mean, I'm sure you've imagined it, Hermione, but imagining it's not the same as being there. Twice I've nearly lost you. The first time I was too stupid to appreciate just how much that meant, but the second time I did know and...Christ, if something happened to you I...I wouldn't want to...be getting on...'

'Ron,' said Hermione, standing up. 'Don't you dare say that.'

'It's true,' said Ron fiercely, taking her hands in his again. 'I mean...I'd get on with it, Hermione, okay? Because I have to, because...because Harry has to do his thing and save the bloody world and I figure he can use all the help he can get.'

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. 'I'd...I'd do the same...if something happened to you.'

'I know you would,' said Ron. 'It's just...Hermione, if something happened to you and I wasn't there...' He tried to tell her but the lump in his throat was pressing on his voice. 'Do you know what I mean?' he finally managed.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. 'I do,' she said, and suddenly they were embracing, and he was burying his face in her hair. For a long time they didn't speak.

'I need to go with my parents,' she said finally, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his chest. 'I need to. They need me.'

'Hermione...' Ron began.

'I'll ask them to invite you,' she said, leaning back and looking up at him. 'You can spend Christmas with me.'

Ron blinked, taken aback. 'R-really?' he said. 'You think they'd go for that?'

'They'll have to,' said Hermione. 'I'll convince them. Can you convince your parents?'

'Dad's no problem,' said Ron. 'But Mum...well, I'll beg and plead if I have to. She'll have her hands full with Charlie, anyway. I'll owl Mum and Dad tomorrow morning.'

At that moment there was a soft knock on the door.

'It's us,' came Harry's muffled voice.

Ron pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes and opened the door.

'Hey,' said Ginny, as Ron and Hermione extricated themselves from each other's embrace.

'Are we interrupting?' Harry asked.

'No,' said Hermione, wiping at her eyes. 'It's fine, we were just talking about something.'

'I'm going to spend Christmas with Hermione,' said Ron. 'That is, if I can convince Mum to let me out of her sight. And...as long as you don't mind, Harry.'

Harry shrugged and smiled. 'I don't mind,' he said. 'In fact, the idea sounds kind of brilliant. Ron fully immersed in the Muggle world...'

'A recipe for disaster,' Ginny muttered.

'You know, Gin, you could help me, seeing as you spent last Christmas with Dean,' said Ron pointedly.

'No talk of exes, thank you,' said Ginny, grabbing Harry's hand. Harry smiled at her.

'If you want to give him a few pointers, I don't mind,' said Harry.

'Later,' said Ginny firmly. 'We're here about those other codes, remember?'

'Right,' said Ron at once, and the four of them took up their usual places in Ron's room.

'Okay, let's hear it,' said Harry, as Hermione extracted several pieces of parchment from her overstuffed school bag.

'First of all, I spoke with Daphne,' said Hermione. 'And Blaise. We met in the kitchens, of all places. Well, it's safe there, anyway. Neither of them could tell me much, except that they are positive Nott is a Death Eater in training, and of course so are Crabbe and Goyle. I asked about Malfoy, too, but Daphne and Blaise definitely think Malfoy's completely out of the loop. He spends all his time with Pansy Parkinson, the two of them are inseparable. She's pretty much his only friend now. They couldn't really tell me anything else, but I did get them to agree to keep an eye of Malfoy and Nott.'

'Are you sure we can really trust them?'

At this Hermione went pink. 'Well, yes. We can trust what they told me because I might have...asked one of the house elves to put a little Veritaserum in the tea they brought us.'

'Hermione!' said Ron.

'What?' said Hermione indignantly. 'I had to find out if they were being honest.'

'Since when do you let house elves wait on you?' said Ginny.

'And when did you have time to brew Veritaserum?' said Harry, and then he held up his hands. 'Never mind, don't tell us. And you got them to agree to keep an eye out how?'

'I got them to sign a piece of parchment,' said Hermione.

'Let me guess,' said Harry. 'The parchment had a jinx on it?'

'Not a jinx,' said Hermione. 'A Truthfulness Spell. By signing the document they're magically bound to tell me the truth whenever I ask them a question. That way I don't have to slip them Veritaserum anymore.'

'How did you get them to agree to sign the parchment?' Ron asked, amazed at Hermione's nerve.

'I sort of...told them it was a proposal I had for Hogsmeade visits next term,' said Hermione, her cheeks going still pinker. 'I said I needed all the prefects' signatures and theirs were the only ones left. I even had the signatures to, well, not prove it, but you know what I mean.'

'You forged the prefects' signatures?' said Ginny, in awe.

'No!' said Hermione. 'Dean Thomas did it for me.'

Ron gawped at his girlfriend. 'Hermione!' he said, unable to disguise the admiration in his voice.

'What?' said Hermione. 'He's good with signatures and anyway, I put a Memory Charm on him afterward.'

Harry shook his head, and Ron grinned.

'But that's not the important thing,' said Hermione. 'The codes, those are what I wanted to talk about. I'll spare you all the details of what I went through to get these done--'

'Thanks,' said Harry, and Hermione rolled her eyes but continued.

'So,' she went on, 'basically these messages are details on Hopkirk's research with your mum, Harry. Remember how Hopkirk was trying to find a way for your mum to protect you without having to resort to _Sanguen__ generare_?'

'The blood sacrifice, yeah,' said Harry.

'It looks like Hopkirk might have come close to finding a way,' said Hermione.

'Might have come close?' Ginny repeated. 'Meaning, she didn't get there.'

'No,' said Hermione. 'But it's obvious to me why she gave me this stuff. I spoke to her this morning--'

'You did?' said Ron. 'When?'

'While you two were out playing in the snow,' said Hermione, smiling briefly. 'Anyway, she wouldn't tell me all the details but right after your mum was killed, Harry, Hopkirk went into hiding, and her research sort of died out. But your mum had given her back all those runic notes they'd sent to one another for safekeeping.'

'Why not just put everything in the vault?' Harry asked.

'It's safer to spread things out,' said Hermione. 'If someone had found that vault--not that they could have, nothing can break a Fidelius Charm except the person under it. Or, well, of course the Book of Morgan Le Fey could do that but Luna destroyed it--'

'Hermione,' said Ginny gently.

'Right,' said Hermione, without missing a beat. 'Hopkirk held onto this stuff and went underground, as it were. Like I said, she wouldn't tell me much of the details but I got the sense that something must have happened, maybe someone in the Ministry found out about her being, you know--'

'A mad sex demon?' said Harry dryly.

'A succubus,' Hermione corrected. 'The point is, Hopkirk disappeared for a while, but she held onto this stuff.'

'What's in it?' said Harry impatiently.

'A recipe,' said Hermione. 'For a potion. And what appear to be several attempts at the working of a new kind of protection spell.'

'Hopkirk was inventing another spell?' said Ginny, sounding impressed.

'Yes,' said Hermione, unable to disguise the admiration in her voice. 'Not only did she create a shielding spell that can block the Killing Curse, but she was on her way to creating another protection spell...for Harry, and his parents. Only...she never got to finish and...well, we all know what happened.'

'Blimey,' said Ron. 'Where does the potion fit in?'

'Believe it or not,' said Hermione, 'it's not unlike what was in Luna's book. Well, except that the potion isn't a deadly poison, of course. But the concept is the same. The potion is made, there's a spell said over the potion, and then the potion works as a protection for the drinker and strengthens the drinker's power.'

'Hopkirk came up with this stuff,' said Harry slowly, 'just to...to save my mum's life?'

'And yours,' said Hermione, 'and your dad's. The formula for the potion is incomplete, and the spell...Hopkirk never got a chance to truly test it. And it looks like she sort of...gave up after your parents were killed, Harry. But now...well, after I spoke to her we agreed to work together on--'

'Wait, wait,' said Ron at once. 'Back up. You and she "agreed" to work together?'

'Yes,' said Hermione.

'You,' said Harry, 'and Hopkirk.'

'Yes,' said Hermione again, impatiently. 'Look, I don't necessarily like her--'

Ginny snorted. 'There's an understatement.'

'--but she has all this valuable information and I can help her with that,' Hermione finished. 'That's why she gave those codes to me. She said that. Not just because she knew I could translate them but because she...she figured I would be the best person to help her finish what she started. We're going to start up after the holidays.' As she finished talking, Hermione's cheeks went pink.

'I'm not sure I like the idea of you working with her alone,' said Ron.

'Ron, this is for Harry,' said Hermione.

'I don't like it, either,' said Harry.

'Hopkirk won't hurt me,' said Hermione. 'I know she won't. Not if we're both trying to help Harry.'

'You sound pretty sure of yourself,' said Ron.

Hermione nodded, and looked at Harry. 'I think Hopkirk feels guilty that she couldn't save your parents. She hid herself; I'm not sure why, maybe she was really torn up about your parents dying. But she's back now. Dumbledore must have convinced her to come out of hiding, and now she's asked me to help her finish what she started. Here, look at these, look at the one on top.'

Harry took the parchment, and Ron and Ginny read over his shoulder. The piece of parchment was covered in odd, swirling symbols, and beneath, Hermione had carefully written out the corresponding word and meaning.

'This doesn't make any sense--' Harry began.

'Read the line at the bottom, that's the code message,' said Hermione.

They did.

'"Powder of bezoar, ashwinder yolk, mandrake leaf, leech juice"...' Harry read. '"Diamond dust".That's it? We can get all that stuff here, can't we?'

'There's more,' said Hermione, peeling the top piece of parchment away. 'Look.'

The next piece of parchment had no runes on it at all; rather, it appeared to be a page full of hastily scrawled notes; several passages were crossed out.

'What am I looking at?' Harry asked.

'Bottom of the page,' said Hermione, pointing to a sentence that ended in a question mark.

'"Use blood in potion",' Harry read, '"protection nearly as good as S.G."?'

'You mean, Hopkirk thought a potion containing the Potters' blood could protect Harry,' said Ginny.

'That's right,' said Hermione. 'Nearly as well as the blood sacrifice itself.'

'Nearly as well?' said Ron.

'Well, yes, that's where the spell comes in, or so Hopkirk says,' said Hermione.

Harry looked up and let out a frustrated sigh. 'My parents' blood,' he said. 'Hermione, they've been dead for sixteen years, where am I supposed to get a hold of their blood?'

'Yes, well,' said Hermione, 'I asked Hopkirk that, and she thinks other blood can be used.' She paused and looked at Ron and Ginny. 'Our blood.'

Harry gaped at her, and Ron and Ginny both looked at her with wide eyes.

'Are you serious?' said Harry. 'I have to...to drink your blood?'

'I'll do it,' said Ginny. 'How much blood is needed?'

'Ginny!' said Harry.

'What?' said Ginny. 'This might be the solution, Harry. This potion. If we can't use your parents' blood, why not the blood of your best friends? If it can save you?'

'But...' Harry protested weakly.

'I'll do it, too,' Ron blurted, figuring that if all he had to do was give a little blood in the cause of defeating Voldemort, that was hardly anything to fret about.

'And I would, too,' said Hermione.

Harry swallowed. 'You really think this potion and this spell could work?' he said finally.

Hermione let out a breath. 'I don't know,' she admitted. 'Hopkirk is...well, she's brilliant, and a lot more powerful than I gave her credit for. If anyone can come up with spell that's as strong as the magic that saved you, Harry, but without having to resort to a blood sacrifice, then it's Hopkirk.'

'So if Hopkirk and you are successful, Harry can defeat Voldemort without...somebody doing what his mum did,' said Ron.

'If we're successful,' said Hermione, and suddenly she began to worry her hands. 'It's either that, or...or another blood sacrifice.'

'You mean...you mean that--' said Ron slowly.

'Someone would have to willingly submit to _Sanguen__ generare_,' said Hermione, not looking at him. 'It would be the only way to defeat Voldemort.'

'But wait,' said Harry. 'When my mum did the blood sacrifice thing and Voldemort tried to kill me, the curse didn't kill him. His soul was still there and he...it escaped.'

'I know,' said Hermione. 'Voldemort's soul was strong enough to survive the blood sacrifice. Anyone else would was hit with a rebounded curse would have died, and his or her soul would have...gone away, or faded.'

'So even if someone...someone were to do what my mum did,' said Harry, 'it would be useless, wouldn't it?'

'But Voldemort is weaker, isn't he?' said Ginny. 'Your blood is hurting him. Maybe in a weakened state, his soul wouldn't be strong enough.'

'Except that he might have new blood, remember?' said Harry heavily. 'This is hopeless.'

'It's not hopeless,' said Ron at once, with more confidence than he actually felt. 'Hermione's brilliant, and so is Hopkirk and if anyone can do this they can. They can...finish that potion and work the spell and...and--'

'And nobody else will have to die for me to beat him,' Harry said. He looked long and hard at Hermione. 'When can you start on the potion?'

'I told you, after the holidays,' she said. 'Hopkirk is...well, she said she was going somewhere on some sort of business, it was very vague. But as soon as we all get back after the New Year, we'll start.'

* * *

The next evening, Harry and Ginny sat on his bed, with the curtains drawn and faintly glowing with a Silencing Charm.

It had taken some doing, but Ron and Hermione both managed to convince their parents to allow Ron to spend the holidays with the Grangers. The fact that they resided in London, within easy distance of Order headquarters, proved to be the saving point. Harry had taken the news with no small amount of disappointment; from the time he'd met Ron, they'd never spent a Christmas apart, and it meant spending Christmas himself at Grimmauld Place, which was hardly his first choice.

And yet he couldn't begrudge Ron wanting to stay close to Hermione, or Hermione wanting to be near her parents. For all his complaints about the Dursleys, Harry had to admit it was much easier not having Muggle relatives he cared to contend with. In any case, Ron and Hermione would spend New Year's Eve with him, and Harry had Ginny.

He smiled to himself; it still struck him as a bit odd, them being together now. Much as he tried, he couldn't fully erase the image of her as Ron's little sister. And yet she was so much more than that, a strong, intelligent young woman who challenged him and supported him, who wasn't afraid of his darker moods or his burdens.

She was leaning up against him and his arm was draped loosely over her shoulder. They didn't speak for a time; in the few months since they'd started dating they had reached a kind of comfort zone, and Harry had to admit, with all the noise in his life, the silences he shared with Ginny, where he could feel the gentle waves of emotion flowing from her into him and back out again, were a kind of godsend. That, and their talks, and any time they kissed and touched. It hadn't gone all that far, to Harry's disappointment, but he kept that to himself, knowing that Ginny was nervous about going too far, too fast. Her powers were still an uncertain part of their relationship.

They were reading one of Lily's letters to James; Lily was eight months pregnant and judging from her writing, she was more than ready to give birth.

'Your poor mum,' said Ginny, smiling fondly. 'You were kicking her something awful.'

'Anxious to get out, I guess,' said Harry, grinning. 'Oh, this is good. "The little bugger is also responsible for what I am sure is permanent damage to my spine, which feels like a herd of elephants have stomped on it". Ouch. Being pregnant doesn't sound like much fun.'

'Ask my mum about it,' said Ginny. 'Nine times she went through it.'

'Nine?' said Harry. 'There are only seven of you.'

'Oh, "only" seven,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes affectionately at him. 'There were two miscarriages.'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Sorry.'

'Don't apologize,' said Ginny. 'A woman gets pregnant that often, she's bound to have a miscarriage. Anyway, they both happened after the twins were born, mum said. Mum got pregnant only a few months after they were born, can you imagine? They wanted a girl really badly. You'd think after Fred and George they would have decided to quit but...anyway. They got Ron eventually, and then there was me. Eleven and a half months later. So basically my mum was pregnant for over a decade.'

Harry laughed.

'Typical man,' said Ginny, shaking her head. 'Laughing about pregnancy like it's nothing. You have no idea what we girls go through, you know.'

'Actually, I do,' said Harry. 'We did those gender changing spells in Transfiguration, remember?'

'And?'

'One class period as a girl was more than enough,' said Harry. 'Although having breasts was pretty cool.'

Ginny punched him in the arm.

'Ow!' said Harry, laughing, and suddenly they were wrestling on the bed, and he was tickling her, and she was tickling him (she was quite strong for being so small), but in the end Harry pinned her to the bed with his body and she groaned.

'I give up,' she finally said. 'You win.'

'Naturally,' said Harry, grinning, and before she could protest he kissed her. She groaned in her throat and struggled just a bit, but almost at once she was kissing him back.

'You're a prat,' she said, when they came up for air.

'I know,' said Harry, brushing a stray lock of red hair from her eyes. For a long moment they just looked at one another; Harry could feel the strength of her emotions in his very blood, her protectiveness, her warmth, her...

_Love.___

Ginny bit her lip and looked away, her face going pink, and Harry felt a rush of embarrassment from her.

'It's okay, Ginny,' he said, wanting to reassure her.

She looked at him, and smiled weakly. 'You're not freaked out?'

Harry shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'How long have you...have you, you know?'

She shrugged. 'Probably always,' she said, and she looked away again, and Harry felt another surge of emotion that wept out of her very skin and into his. He wanted to tell her...something. What?

That he loved her? Did he love her? Sometimes he thought he did. And sometimes he wondered if he even knew what love was. He thought he'd had it with Susan, but she hadn't stayed with him. But Ginny was here, and she loved him and Susan was far away now, she was a series of memories and feelings that seemed almost to be in a different life. What Harry had with Ginny was right, and true, and yet...

He wanted to tell her.

'Ginny,' he said, steeling himself. 'I...I...' His voice wouldn't work. Why was saying it so bloody hard?

'Don't say anything,' she whispered. 'Not unless you mean it.'

Harry swallowed, and let out a breath; he placed a hand against her cheek and pressed his lips to hers, and felt and thought with all his might.

_I love you_.

Ginny gave a kind of muffled laugh against his lips, and he pulled back.

'That's a bit of a cheat,' she whispered.

Harry started to protest, but Ginny shushed him. 'It's okay.' They didn't need to say it, not now. Neither one of them could. But they could feel it and know it, all the same. They looked at one another for a long time without speaking; Harry had never done this with anyone, not even with Susan. He wondered if he could literally drown in Ginny's gaze, and he wondered that he could feel so naked, so exposed, though they were both fully clothed, though he had never even felt her skin against his. He wondered, not for the first time since he and Ginny had come together, if he could ever be as close to anyone as he was with her. It was thrilling...and frightening. And unbidden, the image of the Riddle House came to him, only this time he wasn't thinking of himself, or Susan, but of Ginny, and of the way Voldemort taunted her.

'Harry?' Ginny whispered, brushing a bit of his fringe back off his forehead.

Harry said nothing for several moments; he sat up and tried to gather his thoughts, which were suddenly fearful and heavy with the memory of his mother's sacrifice.

'Do you think they can do it?' he finally asked. 'Hermione and Hopkirk, I mean? Can they really find an alternative?'

'If anyone can do it, they can,' said Ginny.

Harry swallowed and nodded; his stomach was roiling again.

'Harry?' Ginny asked, lifting up her head. 'What's wrong?'

Harry looked at her. 'They have to,' he said thickly. 'They have to find a way. I can't...I don't want anyone else making...making that kind of sacrifice for me.'

Ginny looked at him and brushed a hand through his messy hair.

'Harry, it's not just about you,' she said gently. 'This is bigger than all of us.'

'I know that,' said Harry, through gritted teeth. 'I know.' He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. His heart was hurting inside his chest when he opened his eyes to look at Ginny.

'Promise me,' said Harry, 'you won't do anything like that.'

'Harry,' said Ginny slowly, and she started to shake her head. 'I--'

'Promise me,' he said, a bit desperately, as he took her hands in his and squeezed them. 'I mean it, Gin. I don't want you to do that. I don't think I could stand it.'

'Harry, that's selfish and you know it,' said Ginny, but her tone was sad, not rebuking.

'I don't care,' said Harry stubbornly. 'I...please, Ginny. Say you won't--'

'I won't, said Ginny, pressing a finger to his lips. 'I understand.' She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, letting her power flow into him; he let out a breath and relaxed into the pillows, breathing in the scent of vanilla that clung to her skin.

And then her lips were against his, kissing him slowly, making him forget everything else. He parted her mouth with his and deepened the kiss, and soon she was pressed back onto the bed again, with his weight pinning her there, as his hands moved through her hair, her shoulders, her breasts. Ginny's hands were in his hair, on his back, moving beneath his jumper. He felt her tug it upwards, and hesitated; they hadn't even gotten this far yet, the removal of clothing.

'I want to,' Ginny whispered. Harry nodded and pulled his glasses away, tossing them carelessly on his desk; Ginny slid his shirt over his head and it landed in a heap on the floor. He kissed her again, devouring her lips, her tongue; her hands were on his back, moving up and down, and...oh god, the sensations were incredible. That he could feel this much just from the caress of her hands across his back...

Without fully realizing it, his hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. He felt Ginny gasp beneath him, and he pulled his hand away.

'Sorry,' he said quickly, even as frustration burned him.

'It's okay,' Ginny said, breathing heavily. 'I...I want to feel you, Harry. I do.'

She took his hand and guided it to the opening of her blouse. 'It's okay,' she said again.

'Are you sure?' he asked, even as the swelling in his trousers bloomed and his blood felt almost as if it were boiling.

She nodded, and his fingers worked clumsily at her buttons. Clumsily, because they were shaking. He was terrified of this, however badly he wanted it, terrified of her powers going too far, of hurting them both. But somehow his fingers overrode is fear and he opened her blouse, revealing an expanse of impossibly pale, lustrous skin dusted with freckles. She wore a simple white brassiere that looked a bit old and faded and stretched, and yet he decided it was the most devastating thing he'd ever seen. He lowered his hand toward her stomach, hesitated, and then placed the flat of his palm against her skin.

The sensation was like lightning striking every muscle in his body; Ginny let out a gasp and he almost took his hand away, but she pressed her hand over his and the wave of her feelings blended with his to create a sensation more powerful than he could ever have thought possible.

'It's okay,' Ginny said again, and before he knew it, she was lifting herself up just enough for her blouse to slide from her shoulders, which were freckled and lovely. She struggled out of the blouse and it, too, landed on the floor, next to Harry's abandoned shirt. She sat up and bit her lip shyly, and then she did something that made his jaw drop; she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.

Harry's breath caught as she slid the straps of the bra off her shoulders, and he swallowed another lump in his throat as she licked her lips, gathering her courage, and pulled the bra completely away from her skin.

He wasn't breathing, and he knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Her red hair hung heavily over her breasts, hiding them from view. Ginny licked her lips again, and swept back her hair with both hands.

Harry heard a sound and realized it was coming from him, from his throat. She was beautiful, her breasts were every bit as spectacular as he'd imagined, full and soft and perfect on her compact frame. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away from those breasts and at her face.

'They're beautiful,' he blurted, and Ginny burst out with a giggle, and Harry realized what he'd said.

_Good one. Nice. Let her think you're looking at her like she's a piece of meat._

_Oh come on, I've been dying to see those breasts ever since I noticed she had them! Bloody hell, they're amazing._

_KNOCK IT OFF!_

'I mean...you're beautiful,' he said quickly. 'You're beautiful.'

Ginny chuckled and shook her head. 'Well, I suppose since you've been gawking at them for the past six months, I should have expected that reaction.'

Harry's eyes, which had just started to drop down to the magnificence that was her bosom, shot back up to her face, and his blood went cold.

'Wh-what?' he stammered. 'What are you talking about?'

'So you haven't been stealing glances at my chest since the summer?' said Ginny.

Harry flushed very red and smiled sheepishly.

_Oh, I am so busted. I can't believe she noticed I was...noticing her! Good going, Potter._

'Er...' he managed. 'No?'

Ginny smirked at him.

'I guess I'm not as subtle as I thought,' Harry said finally, feeling very stupid. He looked up at her guiltily. 'Are you angry?'

She paused and appeared to be considering for a moment, and then she smiled and shook her head.

'I'm flattered,' she said, and she licked her lips yet again, and Harry heard himself actually whimper. Between her nakedness from the waist up and her lip-licking...

He wanted to kiss her, to run his hands all over her, and his mouth, to taste that skin and those breasts, and yet he was frozen in place. This was uncharted territory for them; the feel of her hands on his back had been so intense his eyes had nearly crossed. How would it be for him to touch her where he most wanted?

Ginny seemed to sense his hesitation and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. Harry whimpered again, but still fought to keep still, fought every lust-driven impulse in his body; he had to let her take the lead.

She did, kissing him again, harder, coaxing his mouth open with hers, and then he felt her hands on his chest, and he moaned in his throat.

_Dear god..._

They sank back onto the bed and just as Harry was sure he was about to pass out from her hands sliding over his chest, he felt her lower herself against him, felt the softness of her breasts against his chest.

Ginny let out a gasp and Harry almost pushed her away, waiting for her powers to overwhelm her, to hurt them both.

'Don't move,' she whispered, clinging to him, her lips an inch from his, her breath mingling with his. He felt her concentrate, heard her steadying her breathing, felt the tension of her emotions as she struggled to keep control. Her power was surging through him and he thought he might die from the roiling emotions, the lust, the fear, the anticipation...

'Ginny, we don't have to--' he began, but suddenly he felt another flood of emotion, and her lips were against his again, her tongue was in his mouth, and suddenly there was nothing but electricity, nothing but heat and sensation and want.

They kissed hotly for several minutes; Harry's hands traced patterns on her smooth, muscled back, his fingers tangled in her copper hair, and then she was straddling him and..._oh__ god_...the heat there was almost unbearable. He rolled them both over and was on top of her now, pressed between her legs.

'Wait,' Ginny whispered, when she felt him press his hardness against her, and again she closed her eyes and steadied herself, and Harry thought he might pass out from the agony in his crotch, the need to touch her.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him with glazed lips and eyes, and took his right hand in hers and pressed it to her breast. Harry groaned and kept his hand still, letting them both adjust to the sparks of electricity that were racing through them. Just when Harry was sure she would stop him to gather herself again, she kissed him, and his fingers moved over her breast, caressing her gently. She sighed against his mouth and he felt it, he felt her pleasure and it was the wildest, scariest, sexiest thing he'd ever felt. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, and god, did he want to kiss her breasts but he held back, he wasn't sure, what if something went wrong...

'Please, Harry,' Ginny whispered. 'It's okay...I want you to...'

Harry groaned again and moved his mouth lower, lower, and then he was there, his mouth was on her breast, and Ginny gave a soft cry and arched into him, and everything was spinning now, it was almost out of control, her passion, her feelings, her need that was flooding his own brain and body. Her skin even tasted of vanilla, it was softer than anything he could have imagined, but still he held back, just a little. He would have stopped again but her hands were in his hair, holding him where he was, and he felt what she wanted. She didn't want him to hold back, because she wasn't holding back now, and her passion was fueling his and...Merlin, it was brilliant and out of control. He moved his mouth to her left breast as his fingers danced across her right, and he felt her hands on his back again, and he pressed his pelvis against hers, back and forth, and he felt something building...no, it couldn't be...he felt it in her...she gasped again, and again, and...

Harry groaned as she suddenly arched her back and let out a long, gasping breath. Her body shook against his, and he groaned again, hardly able to fathom what was happening...oh god, he could _feel_ her as she was..._oh god..._

And suddenly it overtook him, too, and he let out a cry and his own body was trembling against hers, and he was falling, and spinning, and it was the most incredible thing he'd ever felt...

For a long moment they just lay there, catching their breaths. Harry finally lifted his head and rolled off her, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't thrilled about the mess in his trousers at the moment but...

_Bloody hell._

He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and did a quick Cleaning Charm.

'Harry, are you okay?' Ginny asked.

Harry took a deep breath, put down his wand, and turned to her. 'What just happened?'

Ginny flushed. 'I think...you know what happened.'

'I mean,' said Harry quickly, 'that was...holy shit. You...and then I...it was like I felt you doing it and then I was...and we weren't even doing all that much...'

Ginny nodded. 'Are you okay?' she asked again.

Harry nodded. 'Yeah,' he said. 'That was...that was your power? You were using your power?'

'No,' said Ginny. 'I mean, it was my power but...I wasn't trying to use it on you. It just happened. That's what I meant when I told you before. I just...feel things really strongly and it transferred onto you. You're sure you're--'

Harry put a finger to her lips and then took her hand. 'That was bloody brilliant,' he said. 'I never felt anything like that before. It was like I was inside you, even though I wasn't.'

Ginny grinned. 'If you think that's intense, wait until we have actual sex.'

Harry made a choked sound. 'Er...right. Actual sex.' He coughed.

'Harry,' said Ginny slowly, 'I do want...to be with you like that. But, it might not happen for a while. I mean, don't take this the wrong way but I was sorting of testing myself just now, to see if I could...and, well, we could, and I'm really glad. And it was really nice. But...well, it could be a long time before--'

'Shut up,' said Harry gently. 'Take all the time you need. I'm not in a hurry, and I'm not going anywhere.' He kissed her lips, and her forehead, and pulled her close; the feel of her skin on his was beyond intoxicating, but then he felt her emotions flowing into him. She was content. No, she was happy, and he felt it, too. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt happy.

* * *

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione left Hogwarts on the morning of Christmas Eve; the school was emptying out quickly of the remaining students. Harry had packed his things early, for once, and did a quick cleaning of Hedwig's cage. She fluttered into her cage and tucked her beak under her wing and settled in for a nap. Harry ate breakfast with his friends before taking starting back to Gryffindor Tower to collect his trunk; they would all, unfortunately, be taking the Knight Bus into London. Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, stayed behind to supervise the various scheduled departures of the younger students, most of whom would be traveling by Portkeys. Ginny, for her part, was in a last minute meeting with Andromeda Tonks to discuss their training schedule for the following term.

Harry was halfway back to Gryffindor when the sound of two familiar voices stopped him in his tracks.

'You have to let me,' said the male voice, and Harry recognized it at once. It was Draco Malfoy.

Harry saw Draco and Pansy Parkinson conversing heatedly in an empty classroom. The door was slightly ajar, but they didn't seem to notice. He knew he should just keep walking, but curiosity overtook him and he moved closer to the door, peeking in to see and hear them.

'Draco, I can't,' said Pansy Parkinson. 'You know I can't.'

'I am not spending the bloody holidays with--' Draco began.

'With who?' said Pansy.

'By myself,' Draco finished. 'You can't just leave me here.'

'Draco...' said Pansy, and her voice wavered slightly. 'I can't. My parents, they...if you go to their house it would mean trouble for them. They're trying to maintain appearances, remember?'

Draco snorted. 'Oh, right, appearances,' he snapped. 'So, they're letting their daughter stay engaged to me, but I'm not allowed in my future in-laws' house.'

'It's dangerous for them!' said Pansy. 'You of all people should know...after what happened to your mother--'

'Don't you dare talk about her to me,' Draco snarled.

'Draco, please,' Pansy whined. 'I would if I could, you know that, but it's out of my hands.'

There was a long pause, and Harry wondered if the conversation was over, but then he heard Draco take a breath.

'You leave me here,' said Draco, 'and it's over, Pansy. I'm done with you.'

'Don't say that,' said Pansy, and her voice was tearful.

'I'll go spend Christmas with Potty and the Weasels,' said Draco. 'Spending the summer with them wasn't so bad, after all.'

Harry clenched his fists.

_That bastard.__ He's talking about Ginny._

'Don't you bring _her_ into this,' said Pansy, her voice suddenly fierce.

'Jealous, Pans?' Draco mocked. 'You just can't stand it, can you? That I think about her when I'm fucking you.'

Harry saw Pansy suck in her breath; for a brief instant, her face flashed with hurt, but then her features went cold.

'You son of a bitch,' she hissed.

'What's the matter, Pansy?' said Draco. 'Does the truth hurt?'

At this, Pansy snorted. 'The truth?' she snapped. 'The truth is you can't have Ginny Weasley. You'll never have Ginny Weasley. Because Potter has her, doesn't he? Potter _always_ _beats you at everything_.'

Draco's eyes became furious and icy.

'Shut up,' he said.

'Does the truth _hurt_, Draco?' said Pansy, and her voice was triumphant as she threw his insult back in his face. 'She doesn't care about you. She's Potter's girl, and she worships him and you know it, and she thinks you're lower than scum.'

'Shut up!' Draco yelled, and he grabbed Pansy by the upper arms and shook her, but she started to laugh.

'She hates you, Draco!' Pansy sneered. 'You pine after her like some pathetic loser while she's sticking her tongue in Potter's mouth!'

'You stupid bitch,' Draco growled, and he raised his hand up as though to strike her. Pansy let out a little cry and shrank in on herself, cowering. Draco's hand froze in mid-air, and he was shaking with anger and breathing heavily.

'Don't,' said Draco, in a deadly voice, 'ever say those things again.'

Pansy looked up at him with tearful eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. Draco gave Pansy a furious look, but his jaw was set, and he turned away from her.

'I hate them,' he said. 'I hate both of them.'

'I know,' said Pansy, and a tear fell down her cheek as she reached for Draco. He flinched, but then he allowed her to turn him and face her. He looked at her with a barely disguised mixture of love and revulsion; it was a look that made Harry's stomach turn.

'I'll bring you to my parents' house,' said Pansy, her voice soft and placating now, as she pressed a hand to Draco's pale cheek. He closed his eyes, and looked torn between wanting to lean into her tender gesture, or shove her hand away in disgust.

'You can stay with me,' Pansy went on, either failing to notice Draco's reactions to her words and touches, or noticing and choosing not to care. 'I'll find a way. Just...don't...don't talk about her anymore.'

Draco looked at Pansy for a long moment; Harry realized he was clenching his fists so hard his knuckles were white, and he relaxed his hands, but his whole body was otherwise tense, wondering what would happen next.

What happened next made Harry's turning stomach drop. Draco made a low growl and pulled Pansy to him, kissing her brutally. Pansy gave a small shriek in her throat and struggled, and Harry was just about to step into the room, wand drawn, and hex the crap out of Draco. However much he hated Pansy Parkinson, the girl didn't deserve to be assaulted.

But before Harry could even consider coming to Pansy's aid, she was wrapping her arms around Draco's neck and crushing her body to his; she moaned as he yanked up her skirt and shoved her against the wall.

'Draco,' Pansy whimpered.

'Beg,' Draco groaned. 'Beg me...just like a whore...'

'Please...please, yes...'

Harry stumbled back from the doorway, his mind spinning. Without realizing it, he began to run, and he didn't stop running until he was back in the Gryffindor common room. His stomach was past the roiling stage and he had to fight down the bile that had risen up in his throat. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed.

* * *

**A/N: Gah. That was a bear of a chapter.**

****

**Belated thanks to RogueSugah for making me aware of the Kensington Rune Stone, another real code system. I also realize the H/G scene is a a bit similar to one of the R/Hr scenes in _The Price of Love_--that wasn't intentional but I wanted to give RogueSugah credit for unconsciously inspiring me. **

****

**Regarding Hopkirk's protection potion, I am blending the ideas of several stories into something that is, hopefully totally original, but the inspiration came most prominently from the following: _Harry Potter and the Legilimens Curse_ by PepperImp; _Weight of the World_ by Slayerette, _The Price of Love_ and _Fidelis Amicitia_ by Lady Anabelle. ******

****

**Finally, if y'all are starting to get squicked by Draco and Pansy's relationship, that's the point. **


	33. Chapter Thirty Three: The Grangers

_Chapter Thirty-Three: The Grangers_

Harry had been pacing for fifteen minutes, alone in the common room, when Ginny and Mrs. Tonks appeared on the girls' staircase.

'Hello, Harry,' said Mrs. Tonks warmly as she descended the staircase, with Ginny just behind.

'Hi, Mrs. Tonks,' said Harry, his agitation rising at the sight of her.

'Harry, are you okay?' said Ginny, seeming to sense his distress almost at once.

'We need to talk,' he said, not caring that he might sound rude.

Ginny and Mrs. Tonks exchanged looks; Mrs. Tonks seemed unfazed by Harry's abrupt manner.

'I'll leave you two alone,' she said, still smiling. 'Happy Christmas to you both. Ginny, I'm sure we'll see each other before next term.'

'Happy Christmas,' said Ginny and Harry together, as Mrs. Tonks left the common room.

'What's up?' Ginny asked, the moment Mrs. Tonks had gone.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly found he didn't know what to say.

How on earth could he broach this subject?

_So, Ginny, I was heading back here and I saw Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson arguing and they were talking about you. Did you know that when Malfoy is shagging Pansy he's imagining it's you instead?_

'Harry?' said Ginny.

'I saw something,' said Harry, steeling himself. 'On my way back here. I didn't mean to...it wasn't intentional...' His voice trailed off and he took a deep breath.

'I saw Malfoy and Pansy talking,' said Harry. 'Arguing, actually.'

'So?' said Ginny. 'They argue a lot. Malfoy told me.' She winced. 'I probably shouldn't have mentioned that.'

'He hasn't told you what they argue about, I'll bet,' said Harry, not wanting to even think about Malfoy and Ginny in a training session, with Ginny's hands on him...

'Well, no,' said Ginny. 'I suppose he'd tell me if he felt like it, but it's not my place to pry.'

Harry felt his anger rising.

'They were arguing about you, Ginny,' he said. 'Malfoy was trying to convince Pansy to let him stay with her for Christmas and when she refused he...he said he could always stay with your family and me.'

Ginny started to speak, and then paused, considering. 'Well,' she said, 'I suppose if Malfoy had nowhere else to go...not that the thought is remotely pleasant--'

'That's not all he said,' said Harry darkly. 'He accused Pansy of being jealous and--' Harry took another deep breath--'he said that whenever he...he has sex with Pansy he's thinking about you.' Harry bit out the last words and felt bile in his throat again.

Ginny blanched. 'Oh,' she said, biting her lip. She looked down at her feet.

'Ginny,' said Harry, 'I don't want you working with him anymore.'

'What?' she said, her head snapping up, her eyes sharp. 'What do you mean, you don't want me working with him anymore? It's not your decision. It's up to Mrs. Tonks--'

'Then I'll speak to her,' said Harry forcefully. 'I mean it, Ginny. This...this is beyond acceptable, okay? Malfoy's obsessed with you and the longer you work with him the worse it's going to get--'

'You can't just determine how I'm to be trained!' Ginny protested. 'For your information, Harry, as loathsome as I find Draco Malfoy he hasn't bothered me once since that night in the kitchen. The only time we see each other is in sessions. And if you think he tries anything in there you're wrong, because Mrs. Tonks is there and she'd never let Draco get away with anything--'

'That's not the point, Ginny!' Harry yelled, grabbing her by the upper arms. 'You weren't there, you didn't see it. Malfoy...he's dangerous. I know he is. Maybe he's not working for the Death Eaters anymore but he's completely messed up and I don't want him spending time around you. Not when you have to get inside his head all the time and absorb...whatever mad emotions he's feeling.'

'Harry, you don't understand,' said Ginny, shaking her head. 'If it weren't for Malfoy I wouldn't have made this much progress. Mrs. Tonks was right--working with someone I can't stand has helped me. I wouldn't be so in control right now, we couldn't be as close as we are--'

'Are you saying,' Harry interrupted, looking stricken, 'that the reason you and I were able to...to be close like that is because of Malfoy?'

Ginny let out a breath and bit her lip again. 'In a manner of speaking, yes,' she said.

Harry let go of her arms and threw his hands up in the air.

'Jesus, Christ, Ginny, do you have any idea how fucked up that sounds?' he shouted.

'Don't yell at me!' Ginny snapped. 'Don't you dare speak to me like that!'

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but he saw the anger flashing in her eyes, the rigidness of her stance, the set to her jaw, and he backed down. He didn't want to fight with her. He hadn't meant to yell. But he had to make her see...

'Ginny, please,' he said, his voice soft and pleading. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Just hear me out, okay? I've never in my life been afraid of Malfoy. Never. Until I saw what I saw tonight. And I'm not trying to be a jealous boyfriend and I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself. I've seen you take care of yourself and it's a bit scary, okay? And I'm not trying to get in the way of your training. But the way he was acting...he is _obsessed_ with you, Ginny. This isn't just some unrequited love thing. Pansy knows all about it, she knows he's mad over you, they were fighting about it and he nearly hit her. He said he hated us. Both of us. And then...god, he attacked her and I thought he was going to rape her right there in the bloody classroom but then...she went along with it, Ginny. He was calling her a whore and...and she went along with it, and...it was sick.'

Ginny looked at him for a long moment; she licked her lips and let out a breath.

'And...you think he was...thinking of me?' she said at last.

'I know he was,' said Harry. 'He hates you, but he wants you, and he's using Pansy to feed whatever sick ideas he's got in his head about you. And I don't like that one bloody bit, okay? I guess I am being an overprotective boyfriend.'

'Harry...I can't stop training with him,' Ginny whispered. 'Not yet.'

Harry started to protest, but Ginny put a finger to his lips.

'I don't want to fight with you,' she said, her eyes filling with tears. 'Can we compromise?'

'How?' said Harry, realizing he had lost this battle.

'You train with me,' she said. 'I was going to have to ask you eventually, anyway.'

'Really?' said Harry. 'But I thought...Mrs. Tonks said I had enough to deal with, or something--'

'You do have enough on your plate,' said Ginny, 'but I suppose Dumbledore wanted you and I to work together eventually, when I got my powers more under control. He thought, and Mrs. Tonks thinks, that I might be able to help you...down the road. When you...face him again.'

'What about Malfoy?' said Harry.

'I have to work with him,' said Ginny, 'but Mrs. Tonks was planning on cutting back the sessions, anyway. So I won't see him as often.'

'I don't like it,' said Harry.

'I don't, either,' said Ginny. 'Look, Harry, if you want, you can escort me to and from the sessions.'

Harry considered this; he wasn't going to convince Ginny to go along with ceasing the training sessions with Malfoy altogether, but he could at least be a presence before and afterward.

'Harry?'

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'Okay,' he added. 'And I want your blessing to hex the crap out of him if I ever see him bother you.'

Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head. 'I thought you said I could take care of myself.'

'I know you can,' said Harry, 'and Malfoy knows you can. But maybe I want him to know I don't really like him mooning over my girl.'

'Now you're being territorial,' said Ginny, putting her hands on her hips.

'Sue me,' said Harry, grinning. Ginny smiled and shook her head again.

'I'd rather kiss you, you pillock,' she said, and she did, and Harry put his arms around her and forgot that only a few moments ago, they'd been arguing. This was so much better.

'Oi! Stop mauling my sister, would you?' said a familiar voice.

Harry pulled away from Ginny.

'Hi to you, Ron,' he said. 'Hermione.'

Ron looked at Harry, and then at Ginny, and grimaced. 'Maybe there's some spell that gives me a warning so I don't have to walk in on you two.'

'Honestly, Ron,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes at him affectionately.

'Time to go,' said Ron, clearly changing the subject. 'Knight Bus is here.'

'Oh, goodie,' said Harry sarcastically. 'My favorite mode of transportation.'

'Stan Shunpike will be delighted to see you again, 'Arry,' said Hermione cheekily.

'I can hardly wait.'

* * *

The four of them loaded themselves onto the Knight Bus; the final stop would be, according to Stan--who was, indeed, delighted to see Famous 'Arry Potter again--the phone booth just outside the Ministry of Magic. From there, Harry and Ginny would meet Mr. Weasley and they would Floo to Order Headquarters; Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, would Apparate at an appointed time to a quiet cul-de-sac in Hermione's neighborhood where they would be met by none other than Kenneth Towler and Nymphadora Tonks.

The Knight Bus was empty save for the four of them; Ron and Hermione quickly sat down on a bed and clung to the rail bars along the sides of the bus. Ginny and Harry were about to do so when Stan shouted 'Take it away, Ern!', and the driver, Ernie Prang, jerked the bus into gear and it shot out of Hogsmeade Village like lightning.

Ginny squeaked as she and Harry were hurtled backwards onto a bed; Harry landed on top of her and they both grunted.

''Ere, none of that!' said Stan, wagging a finger. 'Public displays of affection are prohibited on the Knight Bus, thank you very much.'

'Thanks,' said Harry sarcastically, pulling himself off Ginny. 'I'll keep that in mind.' He looked down at Ginny. 'You okay?'

'Fine,' said Ginny, pulling herself up to a sitting position. The bus raced south so fast the scenery was nothing but a white blur. Ron looked faintly green and would occasionally put his head between his knees as Hermione rubbed his back and spoke softly to him.

'Next stop, Stratford-on-Avon!' Stan shouted, and just then Ernie lurched the bus to a screeching halt; Harry and the others were dumped unceremoniously onto other beds. Ron groaned and opened a window.

'Are you mad?' Stan shouted, as the bus doors opened. 'It's below freezin' outside, it is!' He started to shut the window. Ron slapped his large hand over Stan's and glared at the conductor.

'If you don't want me tossing my lunch all over you and this fine vehicle, leave the bloody window open.'

Stan sniffed and backed away. 'No need to be rude,' he said, and suddenly a group of about a dozen witches and wizards filed onto the bus. They were all colorfully dressed in Elizabethan costumes and several appeared to be reciting poetry that sounded vaguely familiar. Behind them was a massive trunk that was so large Harry wondered if more people were hiding in it.

'"To be, or not to be, that is the question",' said one very tall wizard with a stentorian voice. He frowned, cleared his throat, and recited the same line again.

An elderly witch with white hair glided past them next; she had a hand to her forehead and was moaning. '"Oh, Hamlet! Thou hast cleft my heart in twain"!'

'Hey, that's Shakespoo, isn't it?' said Ron, grinning.

At this all the witches and wizards--half of whom were filing up the stairs to the second deck--stopped, gave a collective gasp, and turned to stare at Ron.

Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands.

'That,' said the stentorian wizard, 'is Shake_speare_, young man. One of the greatest playwrights to ever live. One of England's rarest and most precious treasures, who wrote poetry and prose of such exquisite and unparalleled beauty and--'

'"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day"?' Ron interrupted, sounding annoyed. '"Thou art more lovely and more temperate; rough winds do shake the darling buds of May"...you know, I've _heard_ of Shake_speare_, okay? I just...never remember his name, exactly.'

Hermione was staring at Ron; Harry burst out laughing.

'What?' said Ron.

'Well,' said the stentorian wizard, looking at Ron haughtily, 'it seems you are not as ignorant as I thought.'

'Gee, thanks,' said Ron sarcastically.

'Now, now, Nigel,' said the elderly witch. 'It is a rare thing, indeed, for a wizard so young to know any Shakespeare by heart at all.' She beamed at Ron, and by now Harry was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe, and tears were streaming down his face. Ginny was covering her giggles behind her hand. Hermione was still staring at Ron.

'Next stop, Covent Garden!' Stan yelled, and before anyone could take the necessary precautions, the Knight Bus burst away again, and several of the Elizabethan-clad witches and wizards went tumbling. The elderly witch landed squarely on Ron's lap.

'Oh!' she cried. 'Terribly sorry, young man. What did you say your name was?'

She didn't seem to be in any hurry to get off Ron's lap.

'Er, Ron Weasley,' said Ron uncomfortably. Hermione had lost her look of surprise and was giving the elderly witch a very amused look.

'A Weasley!' she cried, still sitting on his lap. 'You don't say! Ron Weasley. I assume that's short for Ronald. I'm Imogen Stanton. Delighted to make your acquaintance. Do you know, I knew your uncle, Bilius! Such a lovely man. A bit eccentric, but otherwise delightful. A terrible tragedy, him dying the way he did.'

'Er, right,' said Ron. 'Um...if you don't mind, I...I need to, er, move...'

'Oh!' said the witch, and she climbed off Ron's lap. 'You must forgive me. It's not often a woman of my age has the privilege of sitting on the lap of such a handsome young man.'

Ron's ears went bright red. The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched.

Harry fell over, clutching his sides, which were in pain from his laughing. Ginny buried her head in her hands as her shoulders shook.

'Excuse me,' said Hermione, to the stentorian wizard called Nigel. 'Are you actors?'

'Of course we're actors,' said Nigel impatiently. 'I am Nigel Harrington-Smith. Perhaps you've heard of me?'

Harry and the others looked at him, then at each other, and shook their heads.

Nigel sighed. 'Youth these days. They all know who Celestina what's-her-name is but they couldn't pick out a theatre actor if their lives depended upon it.'

He gave Hermione a haughty look. 'We're a traveling group. Bringing the magic of classic English theater to the wizarding world of Britain. We open in London in two days.'

'Why can't you lot just Apparate or Floo to wherever you need to go?' Ron asked. 'I mean, I thought the Knight Bus was for emergencies.'

'Well, we would have,' said Imogen, 'but the Ministry has restricted the Floo network, haven't they? All times have to be pre-arranged and there are such inconvenient security measures. Ever since…You-Know-Who came back. And Portkeys are nearly impossible to come by. And Apparating--'

'Not all the members of our company have licenses for Apparating,' said Nigel, lowering his voice and casting his gaze over to a short, stout wizard with a beard, who was taking nips from a silver flask. 'That,' said Nigel, 'is our Polonius. Drunk as a skunk most hours of the day, but a fine enough actor, all told. He's taken the Apparition test over a dozen times and has never passed it.'

'You will come to see the play, won't you?' said the elderly witch, smiling at Ron, whose whole face was the shade of a ripe tomato.

'I love Shakespeare,' said Hermione, smiling. '_Hamlet_ is one of my favorite plays. We'd love to see it.' She took Ron's hand for emphasis.

'We would?' said Ron, looking appalled.

'Oh, is this lovely young man your boyfriend?' said Imogen, smiling at Hermione.

'Yes,' said Hermione, smiling back.

'Well, you're a very lucky young lady,' said Imogen, patting Ron on the cheek. 'He reminds me of my late husband, rest his soul. I've always had a soft spot for redheads.'

'Oh, yes, redheads are quite lovely,' Hermione agreed. Ron put his head in his hands and looked like he wanted to crawl under the beds and hide.

'COVENT GARDEN!' Stan cried out, and the bus screamed to a halt, sending several people flying.

After a few minutes of untangling limbs and much confusion, the troupe of actors filed off the bus, followed by their huge trunk, which Nigel levitated. He gave a curt nod to Harry and the others.

Imogen, meanwhile, pinched Ron on the cheek affectionately.

'You take good care of your young lady,' she said, and then she turned to Harry and Ginny. Instinctively, Harry flattened his fringe over his scar. 'Oh! And this must be another Weasley? Are you his sister?'

Ginny straightened out her face and put on her best smile. 'Yes, I'm Ginny Weasley.'

'Oh, jolly good!' said Imogen. 'And who is this fine young man?'

'Neville Longbottom,' said Harry.

''Aw, that's not true,' said Stan, shaking his head. 'He's--'

'Imogen!' said Nigel impatiently.

'Oh, very well,' said Imogen. 'Good night, good night. It's a shame I'm not younger, Ronald. Your young lady would have some competition!'

Ron let out a very uncomfortable laugh and waved weakly as the old witch hurried off the bus and into the dark London street.

Harry, who'd put himself in a state of physical pain at laughing silently, let loose with a howl of laughter the moment the bus doors closed; he was joined by Ginny and Hermione.

'Next stop, Ministry of Magic!' Stan bellowed, and the bus took off again. Everyone fell over, and Harry, Ginny and Hermione were still laughing.

'Oh, mate,' Harry wheezed. 'That was bloody priceless!'

'Since when do you know poetry, Ron?' said Ginny, wiping tears of mirth from her face.

'Yes, since when?' said Hermione.

'What?' said Ron defensively. 'I got you that book of sonnets, didn't I? I may have...read it a few times. It's not so bad, actually, some of that stuff.'

Harry, Ginny and Hermione gaped him.

'Now I know I'm on another planet,' said Ginny. 'My brother's reading and reciting romantic poetry.'

Hermione's face broke into a smile. 'I think it's lovely,' she said, taking Ron's hand. He was staring resolutely at the floor and his ears were still crimson.

'Oh me, too,' said Harry, nodding fervently and grinning. 'Can you recite one for me, Ronnie?'

Ron made a very rude hand gesture, which caused Hermione to say, _'Ron!'_

'MINISTRY OF MAGIC!' Stan roared, and the bus hurtled to a stop.

Harry was still chuckling to himself as they filed off the bus and it screeched off into the evening with a bang; he only stopped when Ron swatted him, hard, on the back of the head.

'Ow!' Harry grunted. 'Prat.' He punched Ron in the arm with a laugh.

'Ow,' Ron hissed. 'Git.' He gave Harry a shove.

'Tosser,' Harry retorted, shoving back.

'Boys,' said Hermione and Ginny together, shaking their heads, as Harry and Ron began to wrestle. Ron got Harry in a headlock when there were two loud pops.

'Ah,' said Mr. Weasley, 'I see the young men here are being their usual mature, grown-up selves.'

Remus Lupin stood just behind Mr. Weasley, smiling.

'Er, hi, Dad,' said Ron, letting Harry out of the headlock. Harry winced and cricked his neck; Ron was stronger than he was and had a brutal grip.

'Hi, Mr. Weasley,' said Harry. 'Professor--I mean, Remus.'

'Hello, boys,' said Mr. Weasley. 'And girls,' he added, hugging his daughter and Hermione. 'Remus is going to take Ron and Hermione to the designated Apparition point; you two will come with me. We're on a tight schedule, I'm afraid, so…'

'Right,' said Harry, and he turned to Hermione. He felt a lump form in his throat. The girl who was like a sister to him was, nonetheless, taking the boy who'd become his brother away from him for Christmas for the first time since they had met. Really taking Ron away. Harry suddenly hated the idea of not spending Christmas with Ron. He saw tears shimmering in Hermione's eyes, and the apology written there, and he knew she understood what he was feeling. And he couldn't blame her for what was happening, even if it stung.

She hugged him tightly as Ron embraced Ginny.

'Be good,' Harry heard Ron murmur to his sister.

'Never,' said Ginny, a smile in her voice.

'We'll miss you, Harry,' said Hermione as she clung to Harry. 'But we'll be back together soon.'

'Take care of yourself,' said Harry, and he meant it. Hermione pulled away, and moved to hug Ginny, and Harry and Ron stood apart, glancing at one another.

'So…' said Harry.

'Have a good Christmas,' said Ron, haltingly.

'I will,' said Harry, with more conviction than he felt. 'Have fun with the Muggles, yeah?'

'I'll try,' said Ron, shrugging, and finally, he looked directly at Harry. 'Listen…Harry…'

His voice trailed off. Harry knew exactly what Ron meant to say.

_I'll miss you too, mate._

'I know,' said Harry.

Ron nodded, and held out his hand. Harry took it, but then they hugged, quickly, in the manner of young men, and broke apart. Harry looked up at Ron.

'Be careful,' he said.

'You, too,' said Ron.

'Ron, Hermione, it's time to go,' said Lupin softly. Ron cleared his throat and gave Harry a nod.

Then he turned and hugged his father.

'See you soon, Dad,' he said, and he pulled away.

'Owl your mother,' said Mr. Weasley. 'Frequently.'

'I will,' said Ron.

'We have to go, Ron,' said Lupin gently.

Ron looked at Harry again, and then nodded at Lupin before he took Hermione's hand. They both waved to Harry before following Lupin down the street; Harry, Ginny and Mr. Weasley watched as they turned into an alley. There were three sharp pops, and Harry knew Ron and Hermione were gone.

'Let's be off, then, shall we, Harry?'

'Sure,' said Harry, feeling heavy of heart. He followed Mr. Weasley and Ginny into the beat up phone box that would take them into the Ministry and one of the fireplaces.

'They'll be okay, Harry,' said Ginny, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze. He felt a flood of reassurance enter him, and he smiled weakly at her.

'They'd better be,' he said.

* * *

Ron clutched Hermione's hand as they made their way from what was clearly someone's back yard into the softly lit street up ahead.

It was a pleasant looking street, with neat, elegant row houses that spoke of financial comfort, if not outright wealth.

'Where are we?' Ron asked, gazing at the street sign.

'Tennyson Street,' Hermione whispered.

'I know that,' Ron whispered back. 'I meant...where in London are we?'

'Uxbridge,' said Lupin. 'One of the more pleasant Muggle suburbs. The Grangers live at the other end of the road.'

'Let's go, then,' said Ron anxiously, not keen to stand around on a Muggle street in the dark, even if it did look like a friendly, welcoming sort of neighborhood.

'Not yet,' said Lupin, checking his watch. 'We're just a bit early. We've got two minutes before Tonks and Kenneth arrive. They'll be escorting you.'

'I'm sure we can walk down the street just fine,' said Hermione.

'We'll wait here,' said Lupin firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. Hermione and Ron both fell silent, and for the next minute and a half, Ron felt every second passing. He was so lulled by the relative quiet of the street that when Kenneth and Tonks arrived with two loud cracks in the air, Ron jumped slightly.

'Easy, Ron, it's just us,' said Tonks, grinning. 'Everything okay, Remus?'

'Everything's fine,' said Lupin, smiling at her and giving her a very quick hug. 'I'm heading back to headquarters. Someone has to feed Buckbeak.'

He took Tonks's hand and gave it a squeeze before he Disapparated.

'Right, you two,' said Tonks, turning her attention to Ron and Hermione. 'Let's go.'

Kenneth Towler nodded to them both.

'We'll have to carry your stuff manually,' he said, and he picked up one end of Ron's trunk. Ron caught the other end and clutched Pigwidgeon's cage in his free hand, as Tonks and Hermione struggled with her trunk and Crookshanks' cage.

It wasn't a long walk to the end of the street, and yet their progress was slow, not only because of their luggage, but because Tonks and Kenneth made a point of checking every shrub, every corner, every alleyway very carefully. By the time they reached Number 26, Tennyson Street, they had been walking nearly ten minutes.

'All clear,' Tonks said briskly, and she marched smartly up to the front door and rapped on it with her knuckles, and then pressed a button next to the door, which caused a faint but noticeable chiming to come from somewhere inside the house.

It was nearly half a minute before Ron heard footsteps approaching the door, and they were noticeably cautious.

'Yes?' came a female voice from behind the door.

'Tonks and Towler,' said Tonks briskly. 'We're here to talk about the bridgework along the upper right central.'

'What?' Ron muttered, casting a confused look at Hermione, but before she could answer, Mrs. Granger's voice floated through the door.

'The upper right central, are you sure?' she said.

'Oh, damn,' said Tonks, in a strangely flat, almost rehearsed sounding voice. 'Of course. I meant the upper right cuspid.'

Ron gave Hermione a bewildered look as the sound of a doorknob turning hit his ears.

'Password,' Tonks explained.

'Dentistry terms,' Hermione elaborated.

Suddenly the doorstep and the four of them were bathed in light. He turned his attention to Mrs. Granger.

'Come in,' she said, looking fondly at Hermione.

The four of them hustled quickly into the house; Hermione was snatched up by her mother, who hugged her tightly.

'I'm fine, Mum,' said Hermione, sounding as though Mrs. Granger was cutting off her air supply just slightly.

'I know,' said Mrs. Granger, her eyes welling with tears. She released her daughter and looked at Ron with a watery smile.

'Welcome, Ron,' she said, and she pulled him into a tight hug. Ron went red in the face and hugged her back.

'Thanks for bringing them,' said Mrs. Granger, as she pulled back from Ron and addressed Tonks and Kenneth.

'Our pleasure,' said Tonks. 'We're around until morning.'

She turned to Ron and Hermione.

'No heroics,' she said sternly. 'If anything happens, send out some red sparks and we're here in a flash.'

'Right,' said Ron, and his hand immediately went inside his robe pocket for his wand.

'Mrs. Granger,' said Tonks, 'about that...er...rifle--'

'Rifle?' said Hermione, looking horrified.

'What's a rifle?' Ron asked.

'It's a type of very large gun,' said Hermione, her voice a bit shaky. 'It's a deadly weapon.'

'I know you don't think we should have it, Tonks,' said Mrs. Granger, ignoring her daughter for the moment, 'but Warren insists, and he's spent the last three months practicing.'

Tonks was looking at Mrs. Granger with skeptical eyes; clearly, whatever this rifle thing was, Tonks didn't like the idea of the Grangers having one, but in the end, the young Auror nodded.

'Fine,' she said. 'Just be careful with it. We're off.'

Tonks gave Ron and Hermione quick hugs; Kenneth nodded to them both, and they went out the front door to start their patrolling shift.

The moment the door clicked shut behind Kenneth Hermione whirled on her mother.

'Dad bought a rifle?' she asked, her voice shrill.

'Hermione,' said Mrs. Granger, in a tone full of warning. 'Before you fly off the handle, you should know it hasn't been easy for either of us...dealing with...whatever this is. We don't have your skills, darling, and as much as we appreciate the...security system your people have worked out for us, we don't like feeling defenseless. So yes, your dad bought a rifle.'

Hermione bit her lip and looked at her mother sadly; Ron was immensely curious to know just what a rifle was, but somehow, now didn't seem like the time to ask. Clearly it was some sort of Muggle weapon. He stepped out of the way to let Hermione hug her mother again, and let his eyes take in the rooms surrounding him.

It was clear that the Grangers were comfortably well off, if not wealthy. Everything about the decor of the house suggested elegance, without extravagance. The floors were polished hardwood; there was a small but beautifully appointed fireplace in the living room, which was decorated with a curious but stylish mixture of feminine, floral chairs and a decidedly masculine leather sofa. Several bizarre but interesting paintings lined the walls; Ron noticed that only one of them seemed to have any sort of recognizable shapes in it--it appeared to be a family portrait of some kind, only none of the occupants in the painting moved or spoke. There was a lovely antique baby grand piano in the corner of the room--Ron knew such instruments existed in the magical world but of course, magical pianos didn't need people to play them. The piano lid was shut and almost littered with photographs, all of them--at least as far as Ron could tell from this distance--of Hermione at various ages. He made a mental note to look at all of them later. He then turned his eyes left and saw what had to be both an office and a library.

The office was a bit darker and more masculine looking than the living room, but from the moment he saw the rows and rows of books crowding the dozen or so bookshelves, Ron knew where Hermione had inherited her obsessive reading habits.

In the center of the room was a rich looking walnut desk, also piled high with books. To the right of the desk was a massive credenza upon which were placed several strange looking devices; he instantly recognized one as a fellytone; another was a sleek, charcoal gray panel on which brightly colored shapes moved and contorted. Ron felt his eyes drawn to the strange panel.

'Ron?' came a disembodied voice.

'Ron!' said Hermione sharply, and she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him back into the foyer.

'What?' said Ron, blinking.

Hermione looked at her mother, who was gazing at Ron with an expression of concern.

'Don't mind him, Mum,' she said. 'He's never seen a computer before.'

'Oh,' said Mrs. Granger, still looking at Ron, her expression dubious.

'Sorry,' Ron mumbled, feeling very stupid. Well, it wasn't entirely his fault! He'd only been inside one other Muggle house before--that of Harry's dreadful relatives--but they didn't have an office on the first floor with a strange polluter or contooter or whatever it was.

'Well, Ron,' said Mrs. Granger bracingly, 'this will be an education for you, then. Hermione tells us your family is...entirely magical.'

'Er, yeah,' said Ron, his voice sounding croaky. He quickly cleared his throat. 'I mean, yes, ma'am. The whole family is magical. Well, except for a really distant cousin who's an accountant, only I've never met him.'

'Ah,' said Mrs. Granger, smiling gracefully. 'Well, Warren and I will be very interested to hear about your family, Ron. Of course, your father has told us quite a bit already.'

'Right,' said Ron. 'My dad's got a bit of a Muggle obsession.'

_Oh, you did not just say that!_

'I mean,' said Ron quickly, 'he's just...really fascinated by how...how Muggles...do stuff.'

_Oh, god. Oh, GOD. _

'Oh,' said Mrs. Granger, smiling warmly. She seemed to be trying to draw him out a bit, and not make him feel too uncomfortable, but her efforts only succeeded in achieving the opposite.

There was a silence that made Ron's insides twist.

_Say something funny! _

_No, on second thought, don't say something funny! Don't be _yourself!_ Are you mad? You'll sound stupid and offend Hermione's mum and..._

'Hermione!'

The familiar sound of Dr. Warren Granger's voice brought Ron out of his nervous stupor. He blinked again, in time to see the slight form of Hermione's father embrace her tightly.

'Hi, Dad,' said Hermione, pulling back from him.

'You're looking a bit thin again,' said Dr. Granger, shaking his head.

'She never eats enough,' Ron blurted. 'I'm always telling her to--'

'Ron,' Hermione said, through gritted teeth.

'What?' said Ron. 'It's true. If it weren't for me reminding you, you'd skip half your meals just so you could study all the bloody time.'

Hermione let out a little gasp, and Ron realized that, once again, his mouth had spoken before his brain had a chance to catch up. He blanched and looked at Hermione's parents, both of whom had raised eyebrows. Ron's white face went red again, and he marveled at how quickly his face could change color.

_I just swore in front of her parents. I just _swore_ in front of her _parents!__

_IDIOT!_

'Er,' he said, hoping to salvage the situation even as his brain was screaming at him to just shut up, 'that is...pardon my language. What I meant to say was--'

Dr. Granger cut him off by laughing, and to Ron's extreme surprise and relief, the older man grabbed Ron's hand and gave it a hearty shake.

'Don't be so nervous, Ron,' said Dr. Granger, clapping him on the shoulder. 'We're glad you're here, and we're glad you're looking out for our little girl.'

'Dad,' Hermione groaned. 'Honestly, I'm not--'

'Now, Hermione,' said Dr. Granger fondly, releasing Ron's hand, 'you'll always be my little girl, whether you like it or not.'

'You're embarrassing her, dear,' said Mrs. Granger, and she turned to Ron and Hermione. 'You must both be exhausted from traveling. Why don't you come in and we'll get you settled? Ron, we only have one guest room, I'm afraid, and it's on this floor, but it has a bathroom just outside so you'll have some privacy.'

'Thanks,' said Ron, and he bent to pick up his trunk, but Hermione beat him to it; she pointed her wand at his trunk and muttered the Locomotor spell. The trunk levitated ahead of them and down a hallway.

Dr. Granger looked at his daughter fondly.

'I wish I knew how to do that,' he said. 'Would have saved my poor back years of difficulty.' He and Mrs. Granger followed the floating trunk down the narrow corridor.

'Are we supposed to use magic in front of them?' Ron whispered, following behind Hermione, who had taken to levitating her trunk as well.

'It's fine,' Hermione whispered back. 'I checked on it a while ago. The Ministry is relaxing restrictions a bit for Muggle-born students who are of age.'

Ron didn't have time to wonder just when Hermione would have found the time to look up the latest Ministry laws, in the midst of all her studying and code-breaking, when he found himself at the threshold of the guestroom.

'Wow,' he blurted. It was easily the nicest room he'd ever seen, and yet he couldn't say quite why. It was nothing spectacular, and it wasn't even all that large, but again, the decor spoke of simple, understated elegance, with lovely dark wood furnishings and a few more strangely beautiful works of art hanging from the walls. Ron bit his lip. The room was far, far too nice for someone like him to sleep in it.

'Is this all right, Ron dear?' said Mrs. Granger.

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'I mean, yes, thank you. It's...it's really good.'

He groaned inwardly and wondered how many more stupid things he could say, but Mrs. Granger didn't seem to notice. His trunk went floating neatly into the room and landed smoothly at the foot of the bed. Ron realized he was clutching Pigwidgeon's cage.

'Er...where should I put Pig?' he asked, holding up the cage. Pigwidgeon immediately started hooting excitedly and fluttering about like a fluffy grey snitch.

'Pig?' said Mrs. Granger, looking at the tiny owl. 'Forgive me, but...he doesn't look much like a pig.'

At this, Hermione and her parents laughed; Ron quickly joined in and relaxed a bit.

'His name's Pigwidgeon,' he said, shrugging. 'But I'm lazy and I just call him Pig. I don't think he even answers to Pigwidgeon anymore.'

'Hermione mentioned your owl,' said Mrs. Granger, smiling fondly. 'You can put his cage on the dresser; I've put down some newspapers. Does he...have any particular dietary needs?'

'Dietary needs,' Ron repeated. 'No, he...well, he eats insects and...and spiders and the occasional mouse. I usually let him out at night and he goes and catches things on his own--'

'Ron, we can't leave the windows open at night,' said Hermione.

'Right,' said Ron, but he suddenly realized he had forgotten to pack owl treats.

'I brought the owl treats,' said Hermione, looking at him archly. Ron grinned sheepishly.

'Thanks, love,' he said, without thinking.

Once again, his mouth had gotten away from him! Hermione's parents exchanged another look and Ron might have hit himself on the head if doing so wouldn't make him look worse. As things were going he figured he'd be lucky if the Grangers didn't chuck him out of the house within 48 hours of him arriving.

Hermione, for her part, didn't look embarrassed by Ron's verbal slip. If anything, she looked pleased, because she was giving him that soft, doe-eyed look of hers that normally left him weak-kneed. Now, in the presence of her parents, it only made him feel more nervous.

There was another uncomfortable silence, and Ron quickly forced his brain to retreat to the subject of his owl.

'Pig's got owl treats,' he said, his voice unable to decide which octave it wanted to rest in. 'That and some water is fine.'

'Very good, then,' said Mrs. Granger, glancing at her husband. 'Hermione, let's get your things upstairs, shall we?'

Ron watched as mother and daughter left the guest room; instinctively he started to follow, but suddenly he felt a gentle pressure on his wrist. He turned to see Hermione's father looking up at him.

It was in moments like this that Ron realized his height was no advantage; Dr. Granger was regarding him...not with suspicion, but with the familiar gaze of a father with a teenage daughter. Ron remembered the last time they had talked, how he had promised Dr. Granger that he would look out for Hermione. Back then, Dr. Granger had looked at Ron first with skepticism, and then with trust.

The skeptical look was back, and it made Ron squirm.

'Do you mind if we talk?' said Dr. Granger.

_Yes!_

'No,' said Ron, his voice nearly failing him again.

'Have a seat,' said Dr. Granger, in a gentle but insistent voice.

'Yes, sir,' said Ron, sitting down at once. Dr. Granger remained standing and looked him straight in the eye.

'I like you, Ron,' he said, after an excrutiating few seconds of silence. 'You seem like an honest, decent sort, and you appear to come from a good, steady family.'

'Yes, sir,' Ron said again, swallowing, waiting for the inevitable 'but' that always followed the beginnings of such speeches.

'But,' said Dr. Granger, right on cue, 'I would by lying if I said I wasn't concerned.'

'Sir?' said Ron, his hands unconsciously gripping one another in his lap.

'My daughter cares for you a great deal,' said Dr. Granger. 'Indeed, she talks about you all the time whenever she's home, in letters...'

He paused, as Ron blushed furiously.

'She has very strong feelings for you,' Dr. Granger went on.

'Yes, sir,' Ron managed.

'And I can tell you have strong feelings for her,' Dr. Granger continued.

'I do,' said Ron, his voice suddenly fervent.

Dr. Granger paused, and took a breath.

'I know you think you're in love with Hermione--' he began.

'I don't think it,' said Ron at once. 'I know I am.'

_Stupid! You just interrupted her father!_

But Dr. Granger didn't acknowledge the interruption. Instead he fixed a pointed gaze on Ron.

'You're seventeen, Ron,' he said. 'A seventeen year old boy. I used to be one, and...forgive me, but seventeen year old boys are not generally the most...reliable when it comes to these sorts of things.'

'I'm not like that,' said Ron, struggling to keep a defensive tone out of his voice.

'I'm sure you don't believe you are,' said Dr. Granger.

'I'm not,' said Ron firmly. 'Hermione knows I'm not.'

'Hermione is a seventeen year old girl,' said Dr. Granger. 'And seventeen year old girls are not always the wisest when it comes to these sorts of things.'

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Dr. Granger held up his hands.

'Ron, I am grateful that you are Hermione's friend,' he said. 'And I trust you to look after her. I mean that, and I meant what I said a little while ago. I'm grateful she has you on her side. But I am concerned. You are both very young and...her mother and I wonder if it's such a good idea for you to be so serious about each other at this age. Hermione has her whole life ahead of her. She's a brilliant young woman and as her father I want what's best for her.'

Ron swallowed and felt his ears burn as he braced himself to hear the inevitable.

_You're a nice enough kid but you're not good enough for my daughter. You're poor, you're impulsive, you can't take care of her in the way she deserves to be taken care of, you're not smart enough..._

'I don't want anything to stand in Hermione's way, you see,' said Dr. Granger. 'I don't want anything...or anyone...to hold her back from the bright future she deserves.'

Ron felt his stomach tie itself in knots, and a sharp pain zinged through his chest. It didn't matter that he knew something like this was coming. It still hurt. Because it was at least partially true.

He'd never be good enough for Hermione. He'd never be rich. He'd never be as smart or as capable. He'd never be able to buy her all sorts of nice things or give her a beautiful home like this one...

_Because that's what you want, isn't it? A home, a life, with her?_

_Yes. Even if she'll always be too good for me._

But he'd never hold her back, and it was these words, and the accusation they contained, that made Ron defend himself.

'Sir,' he said, 'can I say something? I mean, may I say something?'

'Of course,' said Dr. Granger.

Ron took a deep breath. 'I love Hermione. And...okay, yeah, it's pretty intense, how I feel, but...it's how I feel.'

_Well, _that_ was eloquence personified._

Ron hurried on with his clumsy monologue.

'Hermione is my best friend and I love her and...and she loves me and you have no idea how lucky that makes me feel. And I know I'm not rich, and...well, I did used to be pretty lazy about school stuff only Hermione nagged me so much--I mean, she, encouraged me so much that I've been doing a lot better in school and, well...I can't be completely miserable if I'm Head Boy, right? I mean, I know I'm not brilliant like Hermione and...well, I work hard but there's probably only so many things somebody like me can do, you know, as a job, and Hermione can do whatever she wants because she's so smart and she works so hard--too hard if you ask me. And...'

He sighed. What was he trying to say? There were so many things he wanted for himself, and Hermione was one of them. She was the main thing.

_It's not about you. What do you want for her?_

'I just want Hermione to be happy,' he said finally. 'No matter what.'

Dr. Granger looked at him for what seemed like ages, as if he were studying him.

At last, he spoke.

'I do believe you mean that,' he said.

'I do, sir,' said Ron.

Dr. Granger sighed, and then to Ron's amazement, he smiled sadly.

'The thing is, Ron, she seems to be happiest with you,' he said.

Ron fought the urge to smile; instead he nodded.

'This is difficult for me,' Dr. Granger went on. 'Hermione is my only child, my daughter. Fathers...tend to be very protective of their daughters. Perhaps someday, if you have a daughter you'll understand.'

Ron swallowed as the vision of him and Hermione holding the newborn baby girl flooded his brain.

'Yes, sir,' he managed.

'You see, Ron, for a long time I was the only man in Hermione's life,' he said. 'She...didn't have many friends in primary school. Well, she didn't have any friends. She was just so intelligent and...different. It was hard for the other children to relate to her; she intimidated them and they resented her for being so clever. So they were cruel to her, as children can often be. When we got this mysterious letter from Hogwarts, well, it was a bit of a relief. It meant that Hermione would finally be able to go to a place where she'd be welcomed for being different, instead of being...shunned.'

Ron swallowed again as a lump in his throat formed; he was painfully reminded of first year, when he'd cruelly called Hermione a nightmare.

'When Hermione wrote to us and told us she had finally made some friends,' Dr. Granger was saying, 'you have no idea how happy we were. It isn't right for a little girl not to have friends, to have to rely solely on her parents for things that are best left to friends. And it didn't matter that to us back then that her two best friends were boys. You were all children. But now...it's different. You're her boyfriend. And she's not a little girl anymore, no matter how much I want her to be. And she doesn't...need me anymore, in the way she used to, because she has you. You're the man in her life now. And...that is a very hard thing for a father to accept.'

Ron opened his mouth to speak, and found that he couldn't. It was true, he didn't fully understand what Dr. Granger was going through. How could he? But to know that Hermione had been friendless as a child cut Ron to the quick. It had been the same for Harry, hadn't it? Growing up different, magical children stuck in a world full of people who couldn't or wouldn't understand them, and even feared them, and at long last, grew to hate them for being different? Ron knew not all Muggles were like this, of course, but still...for the first time, he fully appreciated--even more so than when Hermione had tried to explain it to him--just how difficult it was to bridge their two worlds.

'Warren?'

Ron and Dr. Granger looked up to see Mrs. Granger and Hermione standing in the doorway of the guest room. Hermione had a very worried look on her face, but Mrs. Granger looked mildly amused.

'Ah, Alice,' said Dr. Granger, whose cheeks went pink. 'Ron and I were just discussing--'

'Chess,' said Ron.

'Yes, chess,' said Dr. Granger.

'Warren, dear,' said Mrs. Granger, 'you don't play chess.'

'Well, no,' said Dr. Granger, 'but our daughter says Ron is quite the prodigy at it and I thought, why not learn?'

'I see,' said Mrs. Granger, giving her husband a rather knowing look. Ron caught Hermione's eye and she glanced at him, then at her father, then back at him. Before Ron could give her a reassuring smile, Mrs. Granger spoke again.

'Dinner's ready,' she said. 'I expect you're quite hungry, Ron.'

'Oh,' said Ron, 'I'm fine, really.'

And as if on cue, his stomach gave a very loud rumbling. Ron's ears went red, and he grinned sheepishly.

'Well, I'm starving,' said Dr. Granger bracingly, as Ron stood up.

'Hermione, dear, help me in the kitchen?' said Mrs. Granger. 'Ron, would you mind helping Warren set the table?'

'No, ma'am,' said Ron. Hermione gave him one more look before she followed her mother down the corridor. Dr. Granger started out the door, with Ron just behind, but seemed to change his mind at the last second, and turn back to Ron.

'Ron,' he said, 'listen. Perhaps you might keep what we talked about just between us.'

'Okay,' said Ron. 'Sure.'

'It's just...Hermione's fairly stubborn, as I'm sure you know,' said Dr. Granger.

Ron hesitated before he nodded, just slightly.

'I don't want her getting after me about doing my concerned father routine, you understand,' said Dr. Granger.

'Yes, sir,' said Ron.

'Oh, and Ron?' said Dr. Granger, grinning broadly. 'Keep on being good to Hermione.'

'Of course,' said Ron.

'Just remember, I own a rifle, and I'm not afraid to use it.'

Ron blanched as Hermione's description of a rifle came back to his mind.

Dr. Granger suddenly burst out laughing and slapped Ron on the back.

'Sorry, I just couldn't resist,' he said.

* * *

Ron climbed into the soft, inviting bed alone, and knew he wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight. He supposed he should have expected this; not only was this a strange house, but Hermione wasn't with him. Earlier in the evening she had whispered that she would sneak downstairs to see him, but he had demurred, quite vehemently. Dr. Granger could joke all he wanted; Ron knew that if he caught his daughter in bed with her boyfriend--even fully clothed--that the rifle would be put to use. Ron still didn't know how rifles worked, as he'd been too frightened to ask, but it couldn't be anything good, if the Grangers honestly thought it was an effective weapon against a Death Eater.

Ron reflected on how things had gone tonight, on his first full night in a Muggle household.

All told, it had been relatively incident free. He'd unpacked and settled himself in, he'd owled his parents to let them know all was well, he'd eaten his fill at dinner, he'd had a nice enough conversation with Mrs. Granger. Yes, all things considered, it had gone well.

But for the little matter of the kitchen disposal, and his left hand.

Everything was progressing just fine; the dinner they had was pleasant and the conversation relatively easy, if a bit stilted. It was when Ron offered to help with the dishes that things went wrong.

Mrs. Granger was scraping the plates into the sink, which struck Ron as odd, but then he remembered that Muggles couldn't just vanish their rubbish. He watched as the remaining bits of food slid down the drain. Then Mrs. Granger hit a switch and suddenly there was a great rumbling noise in the sink. Ron let out a little shriek like a girl and dropped his fork, and Mrs. Granger let out a shriek of her own when the fork went straight into the spinning, grinding pit where she'd just put all the scraps.

There had been a horrible, screeching sound of grinding metal and then Ron stupidly tried to grab the gyrating fork, only to get stabbed in the palm by fork tines and bleed all over the place. And of course, the wound had so startled him, and really was quite painful, that he'd screamed bloody murder and Tonks, Kenneth, Hermione and Dr. Granger had come running as Mrs. Granger quickly flicked some switch and caused the disposal to come to a whining halt.

It was Tonks who fixed the disposal, and Hermione patched up his hand, and Ron had never felt so stupid in his entire life.

Now, lying in bed with a bandaged, throbbing hand, he realized that however fascinating Muggle gadgets might be, some of them were just scary. He began to drift off, hovering between wakefulness and sleep, and a niggling voice in the back of his mind reminded him he hadn't meditated at all today, but he ignored it, dwelling on everything he'd been through today.

_Don't even think of touching Hermione when her dad's around. He says he was kidding about that rifle thing but I don't think he was._

_Her mum's not that bad. She's got weird taste in food, though. What was that thing she made? Chicken tagine?_

_I am never going near a disposal thingy again. That thing's a menace. Muggles are mad to have something like that in their houses. It's worse than the Monster Book of Monsters._

_Relax,__ it could have been worse..._

Ron felt his eyes close, and he was drifting still further...

It was being in a strange bed that did it. That made Ron--normally a heavy sleeper--sit up sharply and grab his wand from beneath his pillow. That, and the loud snapping sound just outside his window. He stared out the window, clutching his wand, looking for a sign, any sign, of something...an intruder?

After several minutes, Ron saw the form of Kenneth Towler pass by.

_Of course.__ Idiot. Aurors. They're patrolling the house. _

Ron let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, and sank back down into the bed. His last thought before his head hit the pillow was that he wondered how Harry and Ginny were doing. Ron was still clutching his wand when he fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Finally! Dang, that took a while. I didn't mean for it to go on that long but, oh well. There is a lot that is going to be happening over the next few chapters, so consider this the calm before the storm.**

**Regarding the conversation between Ron and Dr. Granger--I borrowed inspiration for this from sproutgirl's wonderful story _Understanding and Acceptance _(which she needs to update, like, yesterday, hint hint!) and the interactions Ron has with Hermione's father in that story.**

**And Ron and the disposal thing came from the Good Ship forum over at Fiction Alley Park; one of the questions there was which Muggle gadget/appliance would Ron be scared of, and I picked the disposal, and I decided to include that just for the hell of it.**

**Thanks as always to lina.**


	34. Chapter Thirty Four: The First Strike

**A/N: This chapter contains somewhat intense, graphic violence. Read at your own discretion.**

_Chapter Thirty Four: The First Strike_

Christmas Eve at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was about as pleasant as Harry could have expected, considering Ron was with the Grangers and Sirius was dead.

The Weasleys, while making no secret of their disappointment at having to spend the holiday here, nonetheless had gone out of their way to make the house as cheerful as humanly possible.

Harry noticed the difference from the moment he landed in the kitchen fireplace, having Flooed from the Ministry: the kitchen itself was spotless, freshly painted, and their were new furnishings in it. It was so immaculate Harry didn't want to even step out of the hearth, but he was cleaned with a wave of Mrs. Weasley's wand, and then she pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Ginny and Mr. Weasley also received Cleaning Charms and the same trademark Mrs. Weasley embrace.

If the kitchen was immaculate, the rest of the house was pristine, so much so that Harry barely recognized it as he walked through it, levitating his trunk behind him as they made their way to the upper floors and the bedrooms. Not only was there no trace of dust, but it was immediately apparent that one, or many, had taken part in a massive redecorating effort.

Gone were the dilapidated antiques, moldy furnishings, and yellowing brocade draperies. In their place stood new, simple looking furniture that spoke of sturdiness, functionality and comfort, if not elegance. Peeling wallpaper had been torn off and replaced with soft, pale paint. The entire effect seemed to lighten up the rooms and give them a warmer, almost sunny appearance. Even the red velvet drapes covering the Black family portraits had been replaced, with a cheerful, very pale yellow silk.

'Unfortunately we never were able to take those portraits down,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'but Fred and George invented Shut-Up Shellac. We painted it over the portraits three weeks ago and they've not been able to make a sound yet. So much more effective than a Silencing Charm.'

Harry heard the note of pride in Mrs. Weasley's voice; clearly her disappointment at Fred and George choosing a joke shop career had faded.

The redecorating and near-sterilizing of the house, Mrs. Weasley explained, was to make the house more functional, not to mention safer. With the exception of the portraits, every last cupboard, dresser and shelf--and all their remaining contents--had been removed and destroyed. Even the beds were new, as Harry noted when he entered the room he normally shared with Ron.

'Besides, Remus said it's what Sirius would have wanted,' said Mrs. Weasley, as she flipped on the light in the bedroom.

Ginny gave a little start, and Mrs. Weasley realized what she said and glanced worriedly at Harry.

'Oh, Harry, dear, I didn't mean--'

'It's okay,' said Harry at once. 'You're right. It is what Sirius would have wanted. The place looks loads better now all that old junk is gone.'

'Mum, who paid for all the new stuff?' Ginny asked.

'Oh, everyone chipped in,' said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Harry moved into the bedroom and set Hedwig's cage down on a chest of drawers.

'Arthur got a nice Christmas bonus this year, finally,' Mrs. Weasley was saying, 'And Fred and George can't seem to stop making all sorts of money from their business, if you can believe that. Percy saved up some money, and Bill, too, although I told him he shouldn't, not when he and Fleur have a wedding to plan and pay for. But he told me he and Fleur had everything covered, so I suppose it's all right. Fleur must have something extra stashed away.

'Winky has been a godsend,' Mrs. Weasley went on, levitating Harry's trunk to the foot of the bed. 'She's helping me constantly with all the cleaning, and she's helping everyone else. Poor dear really does live to wait on people. And Remus, too, bless him, he's always doing things here and there around the house, although I do think he takes on too much for himself, what with his condition. Is the room okay, Harry?'

Harry blinked and looked at Mrs. Weasley. 'It's fine, thanks,' he said, pushing back the pang he felt at knowing that Ron wasn't here.

'Well, then,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'I'll just get Ginny settled. Dinner starts in an hour, so you have plenty of time to relax and freshen up.'

Before Harry could even say a word to Ginny, Mrs. Weasley ushered her daughter from the room; he managed to catch Ginny's eye and she winked at him and smiled.

Harry closed the door to the bedroom and looked around. The room was, indeed, spotless; the new furniture was sturdy and comfortable looking, if not particularly stylish; the walls were painted a bright, clean pale yellow; the dingy Oriental rugs had been pulled up and replaced with simpler throw rugs, over a highly polished wood floor. A fire crackled in the small fireplace, and Mrs. Weasley had draped the mantle with garlands of holly and pine, giving the room the scent of Christmas.

And for all that, Harry's heart was heavy. It didn't matter that the house looked unrecognizable. Sirius haunted every part of it. As Harry gazed into the mirror over the chest of drawers, it wasn't his bespectacled green eyes that he saw, but Sirius's eyes, grey and haunted, and yet turned up at the corners in a rare, genuine smile.

Harry blinked and looked into the mirror again, and he saw his own green eyes beneath the wire-rim glasses, and he sighed and decided he might as well take a shower before dinner.

When Harry went down to dinner he wasn't surprised to find the basement kitchen both crowded and heavily decorated with Christmas baubles and garlands of holly. Little spots of light were dancing about the room, and Harry wondered if they were real fairies floating about. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner and from somewhere Harry heard the strains of Christmas music, coming no doubt from the wireless, floating about the room.

But it was the crowd in the kitchen that made Harry's jaw drop. He had never seen so many people in one room before, and suddenly realized that someone had magically enlarged the kitchen to fit them all.

Remus Lupin was there, along with Mad-Eye Moody and Mundungus Fletcher. Charlie was there, leaning on a crutch to support a heavily bandaged leg; his face was marked with the fading traces of bruises, and he was very pale, but considering how badly he'd been hurt, Harry was amazed to see him looking that robust, let alone walking. Percy was there, leaning on his cane and talking with Ginny, who looked fresh and pretty from a shower and wore a simple light blue blouse and jeans. Mrs. Weasley was stirring a huge cauldron; Mr. Weasley was discussing something with Moody. Even more surprising was the presence of Penelope Clearwater, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Lee Jordan.

'Hello, Harry,' said Lupin, striding over to Harry and shaking his hand. 'Happy Christmas.'

'Happy Christmas, Remus,' said Harry, still not totally comfortable using the other man's first name. 'Ron and Hermione, are they okay?'

'They're fine,' said Lupin. 'Ron will probably be sending an owl shortly, but Tonks already told me she and Kenneth saw them safely to the Grangers' house. Tonks will be here tomorrow morning; she's on duty until then.'

'Right,' said Harry, and he glanced about the kitchen. 'Er, what are all these people doing here?'

'New members of the Order,' said Lupin. 'The twins and Percy recruited them.'

'Harry!' said Charlie, beckoning him over.

Harry glanced at Lupin, who nodded. 'Go say hello, he's been asking after you.'

Harry nodded back at Lupin. 'See you later,' he said, and headed over to where Charlie was leaning on his crutch.

'Hey, Potter,' said Lee boisterously, slapping Harry on the back.

'Hi, Lee,' said Harry, and he took turns shaking hands and hugging people he hadn't seen and hadn't realized how much he missed.

'Hi, Charlie,' said Harry, shaking his hand at last. 'You look good.'

'For someone who nearly got his arse handed to him, you mean,' said Charlie, grinning.

'Don't flatter him, Harry, he looks like shite,' said George, holding several bottles of butterbeer very precariously. Alicia Spinnet was right behind him with her own bottle. Charlie took one of the bottles from George, followed by Fred, and then George handed a bottle to Harry.

'Language, boys,' called Mrs. Weasley from over her shoulder, as she set down a massive roast turkey on the stove.

The Weasley brothers, Angelina, Alicia, Lee and Harry exchanged glances and grinned.

'How are you, Harry?' asked Angelina.

Harry shrugged. 'Well enough,' he said. 'Trying to fill your captain's shoes.'

Angelina waved a hand at him. 'I wasn't so great.'

'You won the Cup,' said Harry.

'That was Ginny and Ron,' said Angelina.

'Hey!' said Alicia. 'We had something to do with it, too. Hell, even Kirke and Sloper weren't terrible that day.'

'Of course,' said Angelina. 'But you have to admit, Ron came through. It was pretty amazing. Hey, where is Ron anyway?'

'With Hermione,' said Fred, grinning. 'And her parents.'

'Ron's spending Christmas with Muggles?' said Alicia.

'And we don't get to see it,' said George, looking disappointed. 'I guess we'll have to seek entertainment elsewhere.'

'What do you think of the fairies, Harry?' said Fred. 'Our latest product.'

'You sell fairies?' said Harry. 'Does Hermione know, because if she does look out.'

'They're not real fairies,' said Lee.

'They're Faux Fairies,' said George proudly. 'All the sparkle of real fairies, with none of the attitude.'

'Faux?' said Harry.

'It's French,' said Fred. 'Bill came up with the name. You know, because Fleur's been giving Bill _French_ lessons.'

'Fred,' said Angelina, groaning.

It was then that Harry noticed Bill wasn't there.

'Where's Bill?' he asked.

'In France,' said Charlie. 'With Fleur and her family. He's coming with Fleur tomorrow. Said they had to split up time between the two families and all, now they're engaged.'

'They're coming by Portkey tomorrow morning,' said George. 'All this security lately is a bitch, I'll say that much. It's been hell getting shipments in and out of the shop.'

'Don't kill the mood or anything, George,' said Fred. 'Not like it's Christmas or anything.'

'Right, sorry,' said George. 'Let's have a toast.'

'Cheers,' said Charlie, lifting his bottle.

'What are we toasting?' said Ginny, who appeared next to Harry with a butterbeer of his own. Percy, butterbeer in his free hand, hobbled up behind her with Penelope and came to stand next to Charlie.

'How about to Charlie and me, the gimpy twins?' Percy suggested, grinning, and he gave a little wave of his cane.

At this, Fred and George guffawed, Ginny giggled, Percy chuckled, and Harry--not sure how to react at first--joined in.

Mrs. Weasley, however, gave an angry huff, but said nothing. Percy leaned in.

'She hates me joking about my leg,' he said. 'But, really, nothing is sacred in this family.'

'Well said, Perce,' said Charlie, clinking his bottle with his younger brother's. 'All right, if we can't make fun of Percy's leg, let's toast to my arse being here and in one piece.'

'Hear, hear!' Fred shouted, and there was a cacophony of clinking bottles, followed by the sounds of people taking swigs of butterbeer.

'I still can't figure it out, though,' said Charlie, after he'd swallowed a mouthful of his drink. I really thought that was it for me. Nobody but a few people knew where I was and they had instructions not to follow, but…next thing I knew our people were there saving my bacon. Only nobody will tell me how they figured out how to find me.' He paused and looked reflective. 'Somebody was watching my back that day.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged looks, but said nothing as they sipped their butterbeer. Harry wasn't even sure if Ron's parents had been told about their youngest son's extraordinary gift or not, but something told him Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't know, at least not yet. Perhaps it was Dumbledore who had convinced Ron, at some point, to keep things quiet, if only for the Weasleys' protection. And now that Voldemort knew there was a Seer working against him, it seemed that secrecy was even more crucial.

'All right, you lot!' Mrs. Weasley bellowed above the din. 'Dinner's ready!'

All conversation seemed to stop as everyone took their seats at the magically enlarged table, and very quickly, Harry forgot, at least for a while, that there was a war going on. For a short time, he even forgot Ron's absence, until there was a loud tapping at the window, announcing Pig's arrival with a note.

Mrs. Weasley read the note aloud--it was very short, and said only that Ron and Hermione were fine, and that he'd owl again the next morning. Mr. Weasley, in particular, looked disappointing that Ron hadn't seemed to bother going into any detail about what it was like to stay in a Muggle house, but very quickly, the note was forgotten, and the meal commenced, and as Harry looked around the room, and as he felt Ginny's hand pat him lightly on the knee, and felt her smile, he decided to forget about life for a while, and think only about Christmas, and her, and his family. No, his families. The family that had died, and the one that currently sat at the table.

* * *

_The red-haired woman clung to the baby. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks._

_'Give him to me now,' said the voice, and it was high and hissing and it belonged to Lord Voldemort._

_'No!' the woman snarled. 'You're not taking him.'_

_'If I kill you, there's not much you can do about it, is there?' said Voldemort. 'Give him to me, you know I won't kill him.'_

_'No, you'll do worse!' the woman cried._

_'Give me that child!'_

_'You are not taking him,' the woman repeated._

_'Do you want to die like your husband?' Voldemort sneered._

_She looked Voldemort right in the eyes, and said, 'Yes.'_

_In the next instant, before Voldemort could even lift his own wand, the woman's right hand flashed in the air, and she pointed the wand at her baby son. Voldemort's eyes widened. The woman let out a choked sob and kissed her baby's forehead._

_'I'm so sorry...' _

_Voldemort howled._

_'NO!'_

_There was a brilliant flash of white light, and the woman let out an agonized scream, like the sound of one dying from the inside out. She clutched the baby to her body and screamed again and again, dropping her wand on the floor._

_Voldemort was screaming, too, in fury, and he raised his wand and pointed it at the woman, who stopped screeching suddenly, and looked at him, her eyes begging him to kill her._

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

_There was a flash of green light..._

Ron sat up in bed abruptly, and immediately regretted it. The winter sun was streaming through the slit in the curtains, and hit him directly in the eyes.

He groaned and flopped back onto the bed, disoriented for a moment. He blinked and looked about the unfamiliar room, and then remembered. He was at the Grangers. And it was Christmas morning.

Early in the morning, too, judging by the position of the sun. Ron groaned and sat up again, and immediately recalled his dream diary. He'd forgotten to write in it yesterday, not to mention forgetting to meditate.

He reached over the side of the bed and pulled the journal from his rucksack. His dreams had been weird and vivid; he'd seen the sword again, in Harry's hand. He'd seen Hermione wearing her school uniform, but instead of her school tie, she wore one of Dobby's knitted ones. He'd seen Harry and Ginny dancing, and she was dressed in white; that must have been a dream of the Halloween ball. He'd seen the red haired woman holding the baby...

Voldemort.

He'd seen Voldemort again, advancing on the red-haired woman. She was clutching the baby in her arms and weeping silently, and her face had been defiant and frightened all at once. And...

'Merlin,' Ron breathed. The scene came roaring back to him.

The woman had killed her baby. She'd killed her son rather than turn him over to Voldemort. The woman had looked like...

'Ginny,' Ron choked.

How could that be? Ginny didn't have a baby! It must be in the future. But...Voldemort would be dead before his sister had a baby, wouldn't he? Harry would have defeated him.

_What if he doesn't? _

Ron thought about what Firenze had told him, about the future not being set. He then remembered his vision of Hermione and the red-haired baby.

Two possible futures, then. One good, the other...unthinkable.

He thought about the dream again. Why would Ginny do something so horrible? And then Ron remembered the exchanged words. Voldemort wanted the baby. He wasn't going to kill him. Ginny said Voldemort would do worse than killing the baby. Something so horrible, that Ginny herself had ended her son's life.

_This is what will happen if Harry doesn't beat him, _Ron thought. _The future will be...terrible. _

He groaned and shook his head, looking down at the scrawled words on the page of his journal. He didn't want to think about that future, the one in which Ginny became a murderer.

He dragged himself out of bed, and he knew he should meditate, but after that dream, he didn't want to. Couldn't he just have one more day without seeing horrible things?

Another image of Ginny pointing the wand at the baby flashed through his mind, and he knew he wouldn't meditate this morning. He could always get to it later, in the afternoon. At least after Christmas presents were opened.

Ron realized going back to sleep was pointless; he'd never be able to sleep with that awful dream buzzing in his mind. He got up and pulled on his dressing gown and stepped into his slippers. He wondered if he might make himself some coffee. Mrs. Granger had showed him how to use the coffee machine last night. It hadn't looked all that complicated.

He started to open the door to the guest room when he heard voices down the corridor.

Three separate voices, which meant all three Grangers were awake.

_Good lord, they get up early._

It was only as Ron pulled the door open that he noticed that Hermione's voice was angry, almost shrill.

'--any idea how much trouble you could get in, Dad?' she was yelling. 'That rifle you own is illegal! You're committing a felony!'

'Hermione, we needed it for protection,' said Dr. Granger beseechingly.

'Hermione, calm down,' Mrs. Granger said, in a placatory tone.

'I will not calm down!' Hermione yelled, and Ron groaned and headed down the hall to the living room, where she was standing in her pyjamas and dressing gown. Her hair was huge and tangled and she was red in the face and glaring accusingly at her parents.

'Dad, where did you get that gun?' she asked. 'Because there's no way you just bought it from a shop.'

'Of course I didn't buy it in a shop,' said Dr. Granger. 'Look, Hermione, if you must know, one of my patients runs a little, er, underground business...'

'One of your patients is a_ black-market gun dealer?!_' Hermione screeched.

'Hermione, please,' said Mrs. Granger. 'You'll wake the neighbors. Oh, hello, Ron,' she added fondly, as Ron stepped forward tentatively. 'Hermione doesn't approve of her father owning a rifle.'

'Of course I don't approve!' said Hermione. 'Good lord, Dad! Buying a gun on the black market, are you insane? If the police ever found it here you'd go to prison, you'd lose your dental practice!'

'Hermione, ease up,' Ron muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder. She whirled on Ron.

'I will not ease up!' she yelled, and then she turned back to her parents. 'Look, Mum, Dad, I can appreciate you wanting to protect yourselves but that's what Tonks and the other Aurors are here for! You shouldn't be breaking the law!'

'Hermione!' Ron yelled, trying to get her to calm down. Normally he'd just kiss her to shut her up, but that wasn't the sort of thing he could do in front of her parents. And the way her parents were looking at him--with gaping eyes--told him that his resolution not to touch Hermione at all was a good one. Then he remembered that his hand was on her shoulder, and he quickly removed it.

'What?' she cried.

'Can I talk to you for a minute?' he asked, through gritted teeth. 'In the kitchen?'

He looked at the Grangers, who were still taken aback, but both of them nodded.

'Why?' Hermione started to ask, but Ron, forgetting his vow of only two second ago not to touch her in front of her parents, grabbed her hand and tugged her into the kitchen.

'Ron!' she protested, but she went along with him, through the swinging door.

'What?' she hissed, when they were alone.

'You have got to calm down,' Ron insisted.

'Ron, my father just told me he bought an illegal weapon on the black market,' Hermione snapped, struggling to keep her voice down. 'He's committing a felony!'

'You're a fine one to talk about not breaking the law,' Ron retorted. 'How many laws did you break when you put those Memory Charms on Daphne and Zabini, eh? Or when you slipped them Veritaserum or brewed that...that potion for me? Christ, you're about to start working with a teacher who you hated because she busted up the Ministry rules, but you're doing it because you think it'll help Harry. You break rules all the time, Hermione!'

She opened her mouth to protest, but then she stopped and her shoulders sagged slightly.

'That's different,' she mumbled.

'It's not different,' said Ron. 'They're Muggles, Hermione, they don't have wands to help them. We can be armed, why can't they?'

'My father doesn't know how to use a rifle!' Hermione whispered.

'I thought your mum said he'd been practicing,' said Ron.

'Where?' said Hermione. 'Rifles are illegal and he's not a member of a shooting club. He can't just go into the countryside and practice on empty cans!'

'I don't know!' said Ron. 'Look, Hermione, just...you have to ease up, okay? Your parents are scared and they're just trying to protect themselves. I mean, think how they feel--they have to be watched all the time, and they don't understand half of what's going on, even if Dumbledore did tell them the big stuff.'

Hermione let out a breath.

'Dammit,' she muttered. 'You're right. I'm sorry. It's Christmas and here I am freaking out.'

'Yeah, well, think of me,' said Ron. 'I nearly took my hand off in that evil disposal thing last night.' He glanced over at the sink and shuddered. 'I'm never going near that sink again.'

Hermione giggled. 'I'm sorry I was yelling,' she said. 'Did we wake you up?'

'No,' said Ron. 'I woke up on my own. Sleeping in a strange bed...you know.' He didn't really feel up to telling her about his dream. Not today. 'How did you find out about the whole gun thing, anyway?' he added.

'Oh, that,' said Hermione. 'I found it on the Internet.'

'The what?'

'The Internet,' said Hermione. 'It's on the computer. It's also called the World Wide Web. It's relatively new, but basically it's this, well, web of electronic communications, and these things called websites--'

'You know what, maybe you can show me later,' said Ron.

'Right,' said Hermione, smiling. 'Anyway, I suppose I should apologize to my parents, shouldn't I?'

'Probably,' said Ron, grinning.

They left the kitchen and went back into the living room. The Grangers were looking at Hermione warily, whose face had flushed just slightly.

'Mum, Dad,' she said, 'I'm sorry for yelling at you. Especially you, Dad. I was just...very worried.'

'That's okay, honey,' said Dr. Granger, looking slightly bewildered by his daughter's change in demeanor. 'You're right, of course,' he added, 'I probably shouldn't have taken such drastic measures but...your mother and I wanted to be proactive about this.'

'Promise me you'll be really careful with it?' said Hermione.

'Of course, dear,' said Mrs. Granger. 'Now...for heaven's sake, it's Christmas. Let's start the day off right, shall we? We'll have a big breakfast first and then we can open gifts.'

'Sounds good to me,' said Dr. Granger and Ron at the same time, and the women both laughed.

'Men,' said Mrs. Granger, shaking her head. 'Hermione, would you mind helping me with the vegetables for the omelettes? Warren, you make the coffee and the juice. Ron...'

She looked at Ron for a moment, and then came to a decision.

'Perhaps you should just set the table,' she said.

* * *

Christmas at Grimmauld Place started late in the morning. After the hectic activity of the meal the night before, everyone seemed to want a lie-in.

By the time everyone filtered downstairs to the great room, where the huge tree ('procured by Dad,' Ginny announced proudly) stood, the sun was climbing high into the sky.

The great room was crowded with people, and the mood was festive; Harry felt a pang at Sirius being gone, but he couldn't help but get swept up in everyone's good moods, and the gifts were, as usual, quite wonderful.

He got the usual Weasley jumper from Mrs. Weasley--this one had a Firebolt on it--as well as several mince pies. Fred and George bought him a Portable Swamp ('You never know when you might need a swamp close at hand,' said Fred); Percy bought him a book called History's Greatest Seekers; Charlie gave him a Hungarian Horntail tooth on a chain ('Consider it a good luck charm,' he said); Bill--who'd be arriving later that day with Fleur--also bought him a book, called The World's Most Dangerous Curses, Broken; Tonks and Remus had bought him a self-cleaning owl cage; and Ron and Hermione jointly gifted him with all his favorite sweets, as well as a new broomstick servicing kit. At last, Ginny presented her gift: his own Snitch.

The day went on with general good cheer; Harry and Ginny did little more than eat, play various games with the Weasleys, and admire their gifts. More than once Harry caught Ginny gazing happily at the silver charm bracelet he'd bought for her.

Ron and Hermione both owled, and Pigwidgeon nearly keeled over from the effort of delivering two letters.

Bill arrived that afternoon with Fleur in tow, and the effect was almost immediate, with all but Lupin, Harry and Mr. Weasley approaching Fleur and telling her outlandish tall tales about their occupations and daily heroics. She kept excusing herself to use the loo, which puzzled Harry, but then, perhaps she was nervous about spending Christmas with her future in-laws.

Harry tried not to admire Fleur, but it was difficult. She swept about the room gracefully, light as a butterfly, her long blonde hair shimmering in the fairy light, and she looked positively radiant. Harry found himself gazing at her during dinner on and off, and let his eyes wander over to her a final time just after pudding was eaten and the table cleared.

'Earth to Harry,' said a distant voice, as Harry watched Fleur whispering something to Bill, who was smiling.

'What?' said Harry, shaking his head, and he blinked and saw Ginny smirking at him. He blushed.

'Er,' he said, and he shrugged. There was no sense denying what he'd been doing.

'Sorry,' he said sheepishly.

'It's okay,' said Ginny, in a low voice. 'At least you didn't go up to her and tell her you were the Prime Minister.'

'Who said that?' said Harry.

'George,' she said, rolling her eyes at her older brother, who sat on the other side of her.

'Their girlfriends aren't here tonight,' Harry noted, and indeed, the crowd, while still large, had thinned out a bit. 'Penelope's not here, either.'

'They're with their families,' said Ginny. 'Anyway, I'm a little glad not to have everyone crowding in here. It's crowded enough. Although if you ask me, this family is going to be a bit more crowded soon.'

'What?' said Harry, confused. 'What do you--'

Before he could finish, Bill tapped a fork against his wine glass and stood up.

'Could I have everyone's attention?'

Harry looked up, but not before he noticed that Mrs. Weasley looked rather a bit perturbed about something.

'First, Merry Christmas to everyone,' said Bill, grinning at everyone in turn. 'It's good to see everyone safe and healthy. Fleur and I have an announcement.'

Fred snorted. 'We already know you two are engaged, you idiot.'

'Maybe he's fluent in French now,' said George, sniggering.

'Keep talking, little brother,' said Bill, smiling dangerously. 'Maybe you'll live to see your next birthday.'

'Ooh, I'm scared,' said George, but before he could say anything else, Ginny elbowed him sharply.

'Knock it off,' she hissed. Bill winked at her and continued.

'Right,' he said. 'Well, Fleur and I had been talking about the wedding plans and we realized that...it was becoming a lot more expensive than we liked.'

'I told you not to go spending money on furniture for this place!' Mrs. Weasley said irritably. 'Honestly, Bill, weddings are the sort of thing you have to plan for financially--'

'Mum,' said Bill, 'can I finish?'

'Of course,' she said. 'Only you know you can always do a smaller wedding if money is an issue.'

'Money isn't an issue,' said Bill. 'You see, Fleur and I...are already married. We eloped in Paris a week ago.'

The silence that filled the room was such that Harry could have heard a pin drop.

After an agonizing moment, Bill grinned sheepishly, took Fleur's hand in his, and said, 'Surprise.' Fleur smiled weakly, and Harry noticed that she had gone just slightly green in the face.

Five seconds later, the explosion happened.

'YOU ELOPED!?' Mrs. Weasley screeched.

'Congratulations, brother!' Fred called. 'Brilliant move!'

'Welcome to the family, Fleur,' George added. Fleur nodded weakly and clutched Bill's hand so tightly her knuckles were white.

'I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ELOPED!' Mrs. Weasley hollered, and she burst into tears. 'How could you--all I wanted--my oldest boy--walking with you down the aisle--oh, Bill!' And she flung herself on Mr. Weasley, who patted her on the back and shook his head. He looked up at Bill.

'Maybe you shouldn't have said anything about that,' Mr. Weasley muttered.

'Oh, Mum,' said Bill, letting go of Fleur and hurrying to Mrs. Weasley's side. 'Don't do this. Come on, please? Fleur and I didn't have the money for a wedding and we were sick of waiting and we were in Paris and...Paris is the most romantic city in the world--'

This brought another wail from Mrs. Weasley.

Harry gazed at Ginny, who smirked.

Bill bit his lip and tried something else.

'We can still have a reception,' he said bracingly. 'A big party, and you can plan everything and show us off and...and whatever else you like.'

Mrs. Weasley gave another sob, and Bill looked at his father helplessly.

'Let me handle this, son,' said Mr. Weasley. 'You might want to see to Fleur. She doesn't look well.'

Bill stood up sharply; Harry looked over at Fleur, who was now indeed very green.

'Is she okay?' Harry asked. Bill was already at her side, talking to her soothingly, as the ruckus of voices carried on.

'No,' said Ginny. 'I'll deal with this.'

She got up and marched over to Fleur and Bill; she whispered something into her oldest brother's ear, and he nodded. Together they helped Fleur stand; she swayed on her feet a bit.

'Oi! Fleur, are you okay?' said Fred, suddenly noticing Fleur's distress.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, her voice sounding a bit strangled. 'Suddenly I do not feel so well...'

'I'll take her,' said Ginny, and she gently guided Fleur away from the dinner table.

'Fleur, love--' Bill began.

'Please, Beel...' said Fleur, and she swallowed hard. Harry gulped. She was about five seconds away from vomiting up her dinner.

'Come on,' said Ginny, leading Fleur past the crowd, whose chatter had died down. Suddenly everyone was watching Ginny and Fleur; Fleur's steps were tentative and she looked woozy. There was another silence as the two young women left the room, and once they were out of the door, Bill suddenly rounded on his family.

'Well, thanks,' he said acidly. 'I hope you're happy. Fleur's sick and you've just made things worse with all your yelling.'

'Come on, Bill, we didn't mean anything,' said Charlie, holding up a hand.

'She'll be all right, surely,' said Percy.

'I almost didn't come here, you know that?' Bill went on. 'Because I knew it would be tough on her, all the excitement and the stress. Bad enough we had to travel so much, with her condition.'

Everyone stared at Bill, and Harry suddenly put the pieces together.

'I'm sorry there won't be a fancy wedding ceremony,' Bill said hotly, 'but quite frankly it's a little infuriating that a bloody wedding is all you lot seem to care about when my wife, thank you, is upstairs throwing up because she's pregnant.'

Harry gaped at Bill, and then his eyes traveled around the table. To a one, the Weasleys were wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Ginny had slipped into the kitchen quietly and Harry saw her nod to Bill reassuringly. She and Bill alone seemed to be the only Weasleys who weren't in shock. Harry remembered what Ginny had said earlier, about the Weasley family getting bigger, and he suddenly understood.

After what seemed like an hour, Mrs. Weasley sniffed and spoke.

'F-Fleur's pregnant?' she whispered. 'You're having a baby?'

'Whoa,' said Fred and George together.

Bill's face softened, and his eyes became red-rimmed. 'Yeah,' he said, shrugging. 'That's why we eloped. I mean, that's not _why_ we eloped. You know what I mean. We wanted to be married when we started a family only...the family came a little earlier than we thought. I know you probably think we were being irresponsible or something but that's not true, we...took precautions but they're not always 100% effective and anyway...we're really happy about it and...we just wanted you to know.'

'You're having a baby!' Mrs. Weasley shrieked, and she leapt out of Mr. Weasley's arms and rushed to her son, launching herself at him. 'Oh, Bill! That's...I don't believe it! I'm going to be a grandmother! That's the most wonderful Christmas gift I've ever had...you wonderful boy!'

Bill was bright red as his mother kissed him all over his face.

'Mum, get a grip,' he muttered.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing; in that moment, Bill reminded Harry quite strongly of Ron.

'You do know you have to cut your hair now,' said Mrs. Weasley tearfully. 'A father can't go around looking like a hooligan!'

'Enough with my hair, Mum,' said Bill. 'You're not mad about not having a wedding?'

'Oh, pish posh,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'A wedding isn't that important.'

At this, the whole room burst into laughter, and Mrs. Weasley realized what she'd said, and laughed as well.

And like lightning, the atmosphere in the room changed. The Weasley brothers all stood and began slapping Bill on the back; Harry heard Fred say something crude to Bill--something about his 'guys' being good swimmers--and Mrs. Weasley pulled herself off her oldest son and smacked Fred in the back of the head.

It was then that Fleur reappeared in the kitchen, looking pale and a bit drawn.

'Eez everysing all right?' she asked timidly.

'Hey, the mum to be!' George called, and he started towards her, but Mrs. Weasley grabbed George by the collar and yanked him back.

'Boys!' she said, her voice all business now, 'don't go crowding her. She needs some air, poor thing.'

She went to Fleur and smiled warmly. 'How are you feeling, dear?'

'Much better, sanks,' she said, a bit warily.

'Fleur, honey, I told them,' said Bill. 'I hope you don't mind.'

'No, I don't,' she said, smiling weakly at her husband. 'Eet had to be said sometime.'

Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley began to fuss over Fleur; Fred announced that the news of Bill's impending fatherhood meant it was time to retire to the parlor for Firewhiskey and cigars.

'No women!' Fred said sternly, giving Ginny a knowing look. Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head.

'Coming, Harry?' said Charlie. 'This is a classic Weasley male bonding moment.'

Harry glanced over at Ginny, who nodded to him to go ahead, but he didn't really want to. He hadn't had any time to be alone with her all day, and with Mrs. Weasley occupied with Fleur, and the Weasley men all congregating upstairs, Harry made up his mind.

'No, thanks,' he said, gazing at Ginny, who was smiling almost shyly back at him now.

Charlie's eyes darted from Harry to his sister, and back.

'Yes, well,' he said, grinning, 'I think I agree with your priorities.'

Harry blushed.

'Just don't make us have to do our protective big brother act,' Charlie added, giving Harry's arm a gentle punch.

'Don't worry,' said Harry fervently. 'Ron's already given me the whole speech, and he's pretty scary by himself when he's hacked off. I don't fancy taking on the six of you.'

Charlie grinned good-naturedly, and hobbled up the stairs after his brothers and father; Mrs. Weasley was helping Fleur up the stairs, telling her about some herbal remedy she knew that could reduce Fleur's nausea; Tonks, for her part, announced that she had patrol duties again at the Grangers, and she said her good-night and Disapparated.

At last, Harry and Ginny were alone in the kitchen.

'Well, that was quite an evening,' she said, crossing the room to meet him halfway.

He took her hands in his.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Your family's nutters. You know that.'

'Of course,' said Ginny. 'I grew up with them. But you love them anyway.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Especially their only daughter.'

The words left his lips before he really noticed them, but the expression on Ginny's face drove them home.

'Do you mean that?' she whispered.

'Yeah,' he said. 'I do.' He swallowed and took a breath and said the words he never thought he'd say to another girl. 'I love you.'

Strange, really, how he couldn't say it only a few days ago, but now it came out of him so easily. Was it the small glass of wine he'd sipped with dinner that had loosened his tongue, or the warmth of the holiday itself, or just being with her, and the people he loved best? Even with Ron somewhere else, Harry felt...whole.

Ginny's eyes filled with tears.

'You're not supposed to cry when I say that,' said Harry, and he grinned and kissed the tip of her nose.

'Oh, shut up,' she said, and she kissed him, long and slow, and he knew he was home, even if it was in this house that had so many bad memories. Home was Ginny and her mad red-headed family.

'I love you, too,' she whispered, against his lips. 'Happy Christmas.'

'Happy Christmas,' he whispered back, before his mouth found hers again.

* * *

If Ron had to choose a single word to describe Christmas with the Grangers, it would have been 'quiet.'

It wasn't that the Grangers weren't gregarious, or that they were boring to be around. It was just that there were so few of them. Ron couldn't remember the last time he had so much room to move at a dining table. He didn't have to shout over a din of voices to be heard. Getting someone to pass him the cous cous--whatever that stuff was--didn't require him to yell to the other end of the table or fetch it himself.

Ron had to admit Mrs. Granger was a fair cook. She tended to cook more exotic stuff--like the rack of lamb he'd just wolfed down, and that cous cous stuff, and what she called 'root vegetables' (they were turnips, Ron didn't get why she didn't just call them turnips). But the food was plentiful, and pudding was pumpkin pie with lots of whipped cream. He even got to drink some wine with dinner, which he decided he liked very much.

The conversation was, on occasion, a bit strained, but the Grangers showed a lot of interest in him, and were about as curious about wizarding life as his father was about Muggle life. They asked Ron no small amount of questions, and Dr. Granger should a particular interest in Quidditch. After dinner, they retired to the living room, where Ron found himself mesmerized by the television (or 'telly'--that was much easier to remember). Nobody could really explain to him how all those people got into that relatively big box, or how that little clicker thingy worked and made new places appear (Hermione called them 'channels') with new people and new stuff going on. Ron did get quite an education on Muggle sport, though. Dr. Granger proudly informed Ron that he was a cricket enthusiast; Ron's first reaction was to ask Hermione's father what he liked about crickets.

They watched a bit of a cricket match on the telly--it was taking place in Australia, which Ron had heard of but which was apparently very far away from England. Ron got bored with cricket, and though he didn't say so, Dr. Granger must have sensed it, and changed the channel, and another type of sport showed up that immediately caught Ron's eye: a bunch of men were riding around on horses, carrying mallets and smashing a small ball around.

'Polo,' Dr. Granger explained. 'Lovely but brutal sport.'

Ron watched in fascination. Brutal indeed. In a matter of ten minutes, two players had been thrown from their mounts, and one stepped on--he had to be carried out on a stretcher. Several more riders collided with others, and one man took a mallet to the face and got a broken nose.

'This is wicked,' said Ron, a grin crossing his features. He had no idea Muggle games could be so fascinating, or violent. Ron noticed that one of the teams seemed to be comprised entirely of black men. 'What teams are these?'

'The match is in New Zealand,' said Dr. Granger. 'New Zealand versus the West Indies. West Indies is the defending champion.'

'Is there an English team?' Ron asked.

'Of course,' said Dr. Granger. 'There are clubs all over the country. We practically invented the sport.'

'Dad, that's totally not true,' said Hermione. 'Polo was invented by the Persians in the 6th century B.C. England didn't discover the sport until the 19th century A.D. and didn't actually start playing until the 1850's.'

Ron and Dr. Granger exchanged looks and grinned.

'Well,' said Dr. Granger, 'England did modernize the sport, at any rate.'

They watched a bit more of the polo; then Dr. Granger brought out a chess set--which looked like it hadn't been used in ages--and asked for a game. Ron was disappointed that the chess pieces didn't throttle each other when they moved, but he said nothing. Dr. Granger proved to be a dismal chess player--every move he made was perfectly obvious to Ron.

'Now I know where Hermione gets her chess skills,' he blurted, as he declared his fifth checkmate. Then he realized what he'd said, and blushed.

'That is...I mean...' he stammered.

_You were doing so _well_, and you had to screw it up by insulting her father._

But Dr. Granger laughed. 'If Hermione is half as bad as I am, she's hopeless.'

'Thanks, Dad,' said Hermione sarcastically, as she turned a page of her book.

'You can't be good at everything, love,' said Ron, clearing off the chess pieces. She looked up from her book and smiled at him, and he winked at her. She fingered the locket at her neck. He'd not been able to afford to buy her anything for Christmas this year, owing to the expense of getting that necklace for her birthday, so instead, he put together a magical collage of photos of the two of them, and of Harry and Ginny, and gave them to her to put inside her locket. He'd written stupid little poems on the back--poems so stupid he made her swear she would never, ever let anyone see them because he'd die of embarrassment. But they were all poems about her and she loved them. She declared, with tears in her eyes, that it was by far her favorite gift. There was even a photo of Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon--the ginger cat was eyeing Pigwidgeon with haughty disdain as the little owl fluttered madly about the cat's head.

She'd given him a book on famous Aurors and a Chudley Cannons jersey signed by Joey Jenkins. He'd nearly thrown himself at her and kissed for that, but then he caught himself and instead gave her a very chaste hug. When she'd asked him how on earth she'd gotten her hands on the jersey, she bit her lip and said, 'Well, um, it's not as if there are a lot of people who want Cannons jerseys.'

'Right,' Ron had said, remembering that his favorite team hadn't won a championship in...well, a long time. But he was too happy to care; he pulled on the jersey and it clashed ridiculously with his hair.

'Right, well,' said Dr. Granger, 'it's late. I think it's time we turn in.'

The four of them stood up at the same time, said their good nights. Ron noticed that Hermione was hanging back a bit, and he swallowed. She clearly wanted to spend some time alone with him, seeing as they hadn't been able to do so since they'd arrived. He wanted it, too, but what if Hermione's father objected?

The issue was settled by Mrs. Granger, who tugged at her husband's arm, and the two of them started out of the living, but not before Dr. Granger looked at the two of them with a sad expression on his face. Ron recognized the look at once; Dr. Granger had that same look on his face when they'd talked about Hermione the night before. Before anyone else could say anything, however, the Grangers had left the living room. Ron heard their retreating footsteps on the stairs.

Another few seconds passed, and Hermione smiled at Ron.

'Finally,' she said softly, and without another word, she crossed to him and put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Ron backed away. 'Hermione, wait...' he whispered.

'Ron, what's the matter?'

'Well, your parents--'

'Are upstairs,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, but your dad--'

'Isn't going to bother us,' Hermione insisted, and she took Ron's hand and tugged him over to the sofa.

'Hermione, he has...a really big gun,' said Ron nervously.

'We're not going to do anything that'll get us in trouble,' said Hermione, sitting down on the sofa and pulling him down to sit next to her.

'But--'

'Ron, is this why you've barely touched me since we got here?' she asked. 'Because you're scared of my dad?'

'I'm not _scared_ of him,' said Ron, a bit defensively. 'I just...don't want him to hate me.'

'He could never hate you,' said Hermione, and she kissed him lightly on the lips, and Ron felt his resolve weakening. Bloody hell, they hadn't kissed for a whole day. He never went a whole day without kissing her anymore.

'He could...if he saw me...kissing you,' Ron murmured, as he felt her lips trail over his face.

'We'll just have to be really quiet then,' said Hermione, kissing his lips again, 'so he doesn't come downstairs.'

'Okay,' Ron said, surrendering. He placed his hands on her face and kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with his own, and it was like heaven. They kissed for several minutes, leaning back onto the sofa but not fully lying down on it, and when they came up for air, Hermione whispered, 'Ron, we can't--'

'I know,' he said, brushing a curl out of her eyes. He was very aroused by now but there would be no solving that issue tonight, unless he took care of things by himself, but he didn't fancy wanking in some stranger's bedroom. Somehow the idea of making a mess of the Grangers' sheets seemed very rude.

But he didn't want to stop kissing her either, so he went on kissing her, and she kissed him, and he was reminded of what things were like when they had first started going out, and were only at the kissing stage, and Hermione hadn't let him yet touch her in all the ways he wanted to. It was frustrating, and yet...nice, too.

'I love you,' he whispered, when they came up for air a second time. 'I love you so much.'

Hermione's eyes glistened with tears. 'I love you, too,' she whispered, brushing his fringe back from his forehead. They kissed again, on and on; Ron's hands couldn't stay away from touching her completely, they glided over her breasts and caressed her there, gently, over her jumper, before moving back to her hair again.

'Ron...' Hermione whispered, and he knew what she meant, and he pulled his lips away from her neck.

'I know, we should stop,' he said, running a hand through his hair. He sat up and she sat up with him.

'This is frustrating,' she whispered.

'You're telling me,' said Ron, grinning. 'Maybe you should--'

'Yes,' said Hermione. 'I'll just--'

_CRACK! _

The sound was so sudden, so completely unexpected. Ron's reaction was born of instinct; he pulled Hermione to the floor and covered her protectively with his body, while yanking his wand from his jeans pocket.

'What the hell?' he whispered.

'Someone just Apparated!' Hermione whispered frantically. 'Oh god.'

'What about the wards?' Ron hissed.

'They must have broken through,' said Hermione, squirming beneath Ron and yanking out her own wand.

'The noise...I think it came from upstairs--'

A piercing scream broke the quiet of the house.

'Mum!' Hermione cried, and she leapt up off the ground and ran for the staircase.

'Hermione, no!' Ron yelled, jumping after her; he turned the corner in time to see a Death Eater swing his wand at Hermione.

_'Impedimenta!_' the Death Eater shouted, and the force of the spell sent Hermione flying backwards. She landed on her back, hard.

Ron gave a growl and turned his wand on the Death Eater.

_'Confractum femoris!_' he shouted, and the spell struck the Death Eater in the right leg. There was a sickening crack, followed by a howl of pain, as the Death Eater went down. _'Stupefy!'_ Ron yelled, adding a Stunner for good measure; the Death Eater slumped down the stairs, unconscious.

'Hermione,' Ron cried, racing to her side and helping her up. She coughed.

'I'm fine,' she said, sounding as though the breath had been knocked from her.

'Are you mad?' Ron hissed, wanting to shake her. 'Running round a corner like that? You could have been killed! Don't ever do anything that stupid again!'

'Ron, my parents!' Hermione whispered, and suddenly she heard Mrs. Granger scream.

'NO!'

_'Crucio!'_

Dr. Granger howled in pain.

Hermione started to shriek and Ron clapped a hand over her mouth.

'Quiet!' he hissed. 'Stay behind--'

'Ron, look out!'

With almost inhuman strength Hermione knocked Ron to the ground with the force of her body as another curse raced past them, missing them by inches. Before Ron could scramble to his feet, Hermione shot up onto hers and shouted _'Lacero aorta!'_

The Death Eater gave a kind of strangled gasp; Ron heard a faint sound of tearing, and he jumped up in time to see the Death Eater clutching at his chest and tumbling down.

'Come on!' Hermione begged, hurrying toward the stairs.

Ron grabbed her and pulled her behind him, and they started up, where Dr. Granger was moaning in pain.

_'Crucio!'_ came the voice of the other Death Eater--a woman's voice. Ron shuddered. He heard Mrs. Granger sobbing, begging, as Dr. Granger's raw screams shook the house.

'Oh, god,' Hermione whispered.

'Shit,' said Ron. 'We don't know how many are in there.'

'We have to do something!' said Hermione desperately. 'Where the hell are the Aurors?'

'We can't worry about them now,' said Ron. 'Just...stay behind me and be quiet.'

They crept toward the Grangers' room; the Cruciatus Curse had again been lifted.

'Please...' Mrs. Granger begged. 'What do you want from us?'

'Silence!' said a male voice, with a heavy foreign accent.

'We're just having a little fun,' said the woman.

'Don't h-hurt...my daughter,' Dr. Granger rasped. 'P-please...'

'Too late for that,' said the woman, and Ron suddenly placed her voice. It was Helene Rosier. The woman who tried to kill Charlie. He felt rage bubbling in him like hot acid.

'No,' Mrs. Granger sobbed.

'We're going in,' Ron whispered, as they stood just outside the door. 'Ready?'

Hermione looked up at him; her face was streaked with tears and she looked scared, but furious, too. She nodded.

'One, two, THREE!'

Ron kicked the door open so hard it went flying off its hinges and crashed into the Death Eater guarding it. He went sprawling.

_'Expelliarmus!'_ Ron shouted, and his curse struck Helene Rosier square in the chest just as she turned towards him. She went flying backwards and the force of the spell ripped her wand from her grasp.

The third Death Eater wasted no time; he grabbed Dr. Granger and yanked him upwards, holding onto him as though he were a shield.

'Don't move!' the Death Eater shouted, and Ron recognized him as Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Dad!'

Dr. Granger struggled weakly in Lestrange's grip, but the Death Eater pressed the tip of his wand into Dr. Granger's temple, and he went still.

'Anyone moves, and I kill him,' said Lestrange. Next to him, Helene Rosier was moaning and slowly getting to her feet.

'Drop your wands,' Lestrange ordered.

Ron and Hermione exchanged desperate looks, but then Hermione looked defiantly at the two Death Eaters and raised her wand so fast, it was a blur.

'_Fatisco__ galerum!_' she shouted, and the spell struck Lestrange in the forehead. There was a crack, and he howled in pain and dropped Dr. Granger, who slumped to the floor.

Lestrange was screaming and holding his head, which was bleeding. Helene Rosier snarled and reached out her hand, and her wand flew into it. Ron started to raise his own wand, but she grabbed Lestrange and Disapparated.

'Dad!' Hermione cried, and she hurried over to his side.

Mrs. Granger gave a choked sob and was at the other side of her husband.

'Warren,' she whispered.

Ron helped Dr. Granger sit up; he was conscious, but his muscles were still twitching just slightly from the aftershocks of the curse.

'He'll be okay,' Ron said, letting Dr. Granger lean against him. 'I've gotten that curse before, too. It hurts like hell but...he'll be okay in a few minutes.

'Dear god...' Dr. Granger whispered. 'Oh, my dear god...'

'Who were they?' Mrs. Granger whispered. 'I mean...I know they must be...working for...for...'

'Voldemort,' said Ron darkly.

'Mum, fetch that water glass,' Hermione said, nodding to her mother's nightstand. Mrs. Granger bobbed her head and got up, looking half shell-shocked.

'They were Death Eaters,' Ron explained, as mopped Dr. Granger's brow with the hem of his shirt.

'But I thought our house was protected,' said Mrs. Granger, handing Hermione the glass of water.

'So did we,' said Hermione, sounding angry, but then she held the water glass to her father's lips.

'Dad, drink this,' she whispered, and he did.

'You saved us,' he whispered, after he had taken a sip. 'My god...you brave girl...and...and Ron...thank you...'

His eyes turned to Ron, and Ron felt a sudden plummeting in his stomach.

_You didn't meditate at all today. This happened, and you didn't meditate today. He's thanking you for saving his life, but if you'd just fucking meditated today none of this might have happened..._

Ron swallowed the guilt in his throat and said, 'Forget it.' He felt Hermione's eyes on him, and he knew that she knew what he was thinking.

'They broke the wards,' she said, keeping her voice even, and her eyes on Ron; their expression was soft, and he knew she didn't blame him, and that only made him feel worse.

_You stupid, selfish, lazy--_

'What about the Aurors?' Dr. Granger, asked, sitting up with a wince.

'Dunno,' Ron mumbled, wishing Hermione would stop looking at him like that.

_It's my fault. How can she not blame me? Her parents were nearly killed and it's my fault..._

'They could have been hurt,' said Hermione, and she bit her lip. 'Or--'

'Or killed,' said Ron, the lump in his throat threatening to strangle him.

'We have to get a message to headquarters,' said Hermione, beseeching Ron with her eyes, but he looked away. She went on. 'We can't stay here.'

She looked sadly at her father.

'I'm sorry,' she said.

'It's not your fault,' said Dr. Granger, and he looked at Ron and smiled again. 'It's nobody's fault.'

Ron felt like hitting something. Or crying.

'Ron?' said Hermione. 'Come on, let's--'

But suddenly Dr. Granger's face went white and his hand shot up; he was pointing at something. Ron and Hermione whirled around. The third Death Eater was standing up and his wand was aimed directly at Dr. Granger's chest.

'No!' Ron cried, and he threw himself in front of Dr. Granger.

_'Avada--'_

_BANG!_

Hermione gave a shriek as the explosion ripped through the room. Ron looked up to see the Death Eater being thrown back against the wall. A massive, gaping hole was in his chest, and blood was everywhere, flowing out of him. His face was locked in an expression of utter shock as he slid down the wall, leaving an enormous, crimson stain in his wake. His eyes were open as he died.

Everyone stared at the dead Death Eater, and then turned their eyes to the source of the explosion.

Mrs. Granger was standing on the other side of the bed, holding what looked like to Ron to be a huge wooden cane with a long metal tube; the end of the tube was smoking, and Mrs. Granger had a look on her face of sheer fury; her arms shook as she lowered the gun and leaned it against the nightstand.

For a long moment, nobody seemed to breathe. Suddenly there were two loud pops; Ron and Hermione both yelled and pointed their wands, but then Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth to see Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks standing there.

Tonks was wounded; her arm was slashed badly and bandaged haphazardly, and there were bruises on her neck and face, but she looked furious. Lupin stood just behind her; his jaw was set and he seemed to be holding his anger in check.

All at once, everything seemed to become too much for Hermione, and she burst into tears. Ron felt his heart constrict, and he got up and pulled her into a hug. The guilt was almost unbearable, and he clung to her not just to comfort her, but to keep himself from falling over. Lupin helped Dr. Granger stand up as Mrs. Granger moved slowly from the other side of the bed.

'They broke the wards,' said Tonks, her voice low and dangerous. She ran a hand through her short, blue hair. 'Dammit!'

'Tonks, this is nobody's fault,' said Lupin.

'It was my responsibility!' said Tonks fiercely. 'I'm a Senior Auror. I checked those bloody wards half a dozen times tonight. And I got fooled by a stupid glamour.'

'A what?' said Dr. Granger, pulling his wife close.

'A charm to change one's appearance,' Lupin explained. 'A Death Eater transfigured himself to look like Tonks's partner and--

'--and got the drop on me,' Tonks snarled, sounding disgusted with herself.

'There were five of them,' said Lupin firmly. 'You couldn't have stopped them on your own.'

'It was my fault,' said Ron miserably. 'I didn't meditate, I should have seen this coming--'

'It was nobody's fault,' said Lupin, his voice going hard. 'We can't stand around here all night arguing about who's to blame. The Death Eaters did this. Fortunately everyone's alive.'

'Kenneth?' Ron asked hopefully.

'Unconscious,' said Tonks. 'I found him in the back yard; he's at St. Mungo's now. I can't believe they didn't kill him.'

'What matters is, you're all alive,' said Lupin.

'Remus is right, we have to get out of here,' said Tonks, and she turned and sucked in her breath at the sight of the Death Eater Mrs. Granger had shot.

'Whoa,' said Tonks, and she turned back to the Grangers. 'I'm not going to ask who did this, but--'

'What's that?' Ron cut in, hearing a strange wailing in the distance.

'Sounds like...sirens,' said Dr. Granger.

'Shit,' said Tonks. 'The cops. We have to get you out of here now, and clean this mess up. And get rid of that bloody rifle. If the cops find it here they'll throw you in prison and if they see you used it, you're talking hard time, no matter you were defending yourselves.'

'Ron, Hermione,' said Lupin, and suddenly, the four of them went into action; Hermione ordered both her parents to sit down as she and the others went about hurrying through house, casting Repairing and Cleaning Charms as they went. It took less than a minute, but suddenly Tonks appeared at the door of the bedroom again, and behind her floated a body.

'This one's dead, too,' she said. Ron's eyes widened as the Death Eater floated into view. It was the one Hermione had struck.

'There were two downstairs,' said Ron. 'What happened to the other one?'

'He must have gotten away somehow,' said Tonks. 'Maybe Disapparated.'

'Doubtful, I broke his leg,' said Ron.

'We can't worry about him now,' said Tonks. 'We've got about thirty seconds before the cops arrive.'

'Ron, Hermione,' said Lupin, and he gestured to the Grangers as well. He grabbed a small brass box off a little table by the bed, pointed his wand at it, and muttered 'Kitchen, number twelve Grimmauld Place. _Portus.'_

'Take this Portkey,' he ordered. 'Tonks and I will deal with this. The Weasleys are expecting you.'

The sirens had stopped and suddenly there was banging on the door.

'Take it!' Lupin hissed. 'Dr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, hold on to Ron and Hermione.'

They both nodded, looking absolutely terrified. Ron and Hermione took a hold of the small brass box; his heart was pounding louder than the pounding that was issuing from the door.

'Tonks,' said Lupin desperately, and she nodded, and closed her eyes, screwing up her face in concentration.

'One, two, three...' Lupin muttered, tapping the brass box with his wand. The last thing Ron saw before he felt himself yanked from the room was Tonks transforming into an exact replica of Mrs. Granger.

* * *

**A/N: That chapter was absolute murder to write, and it's probably too long, but oh well. Also, yes, I have been made aware that firearms are illegal in ****Britain****. Hope my explanation solves that little issue. Up next, fallout for Ron and the Grangers, and more danger...because there's a war going on.**


	35. Chapter Thirty Five: Guilt

_Chapter Thirty Five: Guilt_

Ron landed hard, his feet slamming into the cold stone kitchen floor. Dr. Granger stumbled next to him, and Ron caught him.

There was a shriek, and Ron realized it was his mother, and before he could take two steps, she was engulfing him in a crushing embrace. He saw Harry and Ginny standing a few feet back, with Mr. Weasley and the rest of Ron's brothers, and Fleur Delacour.

'Oh, my goodness!' she cried. 'Ronnie, are you okay?'

'I'm okay, Mum,' said Ron, pulling himself from her arms as Dr. Granger grabbed onto his wife and pulled her close.

'Hermione!' Mrs. Weasley sobbed, and they hugged in turn. 'I'm so glad you're all safe.'

'We're fine, Mrs. Weasley,' said Hermione, though her voice was shaking. 'My parents...'

'Please help my wife,' Dr. Granger croaked, and everyone turned to see Mrs. Granger, who was white faced and shaking.

'She's in shock,' said Mrs. Weasley firmly, her voice suddenly all business. 'We need to get her warmed up right now. Harry, give me your dressing gown. Arthur, put on the kettle.'

Harry was gaping at Ron as he shrugged off his dressing gown and handed it to Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley extricated Mrs. Granger gently from her husband's arms and put the dressing gown around her.

'Percy, yours too,' said Mrs. Weasley, over her shoulder; Percy handed his cane to Fred and yanked off his robe and tossed it; Ron caught it and wrapped it around Mrs. Granger.

_Keep busy, that's it. Do something. Maybe that'll help you forget just a bit that this is your bloody fault._

'Sit her down here,' said Mrs. Weasley, as Ron and Dr. Granger steered Mrs. Granger to the nearest chair.

'Hold onto her,' Mrs. Weasley told Dr. Granger. 'Rub her hands. Arthur?'

'Almost ready, dear,' said Mr. Weasley, and at that moment, the kettle boiled and whistled. Mrs. Weasley hurried to the stove as Mr. Weasley put some herbs into a pot; Mrs. Weasley pulled a small satchel from her robe pocket and added something else. Ron guessed it was something to help Mrs. Granger sleep, or warm her up, or both. Mr. Weasley poured the boiling water over the herbs; Mrs. Weasley poured the liquid through a strainer into two mugs and brought it to the table.

'She needs to drink this,' said Mrs. Weasley gently.

'Alice?' said Dr. Granger. 'Alice, dear, you need to drink this tea.'

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband with haunted eyes, and suddenly they began to leak tears.

'Oh...oh, Warren,' she whispered, and she began to cry. Dr. Granger held her to him.

Mrs. Weasley set down the mugs. 'If she's crying, that means she's out of danger.'

'Alice,' Dr. Granger whispered, 'it's all right. We're all right. Everyone's safe.'

'Hermione?' she whispered.

'I'm here, Mum,' said Hermione, and she moved to her mother's side as Mrs. Weasley made room.

In that moment, the Grangers pulled their daughter into a hug. Ron backed away, and the rest of the occupants of the kitchen looked away for a moment.

Hermione finally pulled away.

'Mum, Dad,' she said softly. 'Please drink this.' She nodded to the mugs.

Looking almost mindless, both Grangers took their mugs and began to sip the tea.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Fred.

'Did you get the extra room ready?' she asked.

'It's all set, Mum,' said Fred.

'Warren,' said Mrs. Weasley gently, 'Alice. Let's get you upstairs. I'll draw some baths for you and help you get cleaned up.'

'They might have injuries, Mrs. Weasley,' said Hermione.

'We're fine,' said Mrs. Granger, regaining her composure as she continued to sip her tea. 'At least, I'm fine.'

'I am, too,' said Dr. Granger. 'They...they hit me with something...'

'Cruciatus,' Hermione mumbled.

'Oh, dear,' Mrs. Weasley whispered.

'I'm okay now,' said Dr. Granger. 'It was...very painful...'

Ron and Harry exchanged glances; to call getting hit by the Cruciatus Curse painful was an understatement.

The Grangers allowed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to lead them out of the kitchen and upstairs.

Ron watched them go for a minute, and then looked back at the rest of his family, and Harry and Fleur. They were all regarding him and Hermione with a mixture of concern and caution, as though none of them quite knew what to do.

Ron's eyes met Ginny's, and she bit her lip, and tears filmed her eyes. She crossed the room and pulled Ron into a hug. The horror of the night came roaring back as Ginny put her hand on the back of his neck, but just as quickly it was gone, replaced by warmth and sympathy. Ron felt Ginny tense in his arms as she absorbed his pain and guilt, and he tried to let go of her, but she clung to him insistently, filling him with her power. When she finally did let him go, he saw that she was not as weakened as he'd expected; she'd clearly grown stronger, and recovered faster from using her power to help others. Still, Ron hadn't failed to miss the way she grimaced, just slightly, as she let him go.

'You didn't have to do that,' he said softly.

'Yes, I did,' was her reply. Everyone was watching the two of them; the Weasley brothers and Fleur looked at Ginny with confusion, as though each wanted to ask her or Ron just what it was she had done, but nobody spoke.

Just as Ron thought of arguing the point, that Ginny _shouldn't_ be doing something that still hurt her, Ginny had already moved to hug Hermione, who was embraced in turn by Harry.

Harry and Ron embraced next; it was the usual fast sort of hug between two young men, and yet there was an intensity to it that was unspoken but understood.

Ron then felt the twins hugging him.

'You scared the hell out of us, little bro,' George said, clearly trying for a jocular tone, and not quite succeeding. Fred took up the theme.

'Next time you decide to narrowly escape death,' he said, 'would you mind not doing it in the middle of the night? You're messing with my beauty sleep.'

It was a totally inappropriate--and therefore perfectly _Fred _thing to say--that Ron couldn't help but laugh, and the others seemed to take his cue and laugh as well. All but Hermione, whose eyes filled with tears.

'Shit, I'm sorry,' said Fred contritely. 'I didn't mean--'

Ron instinctively started to reach for her, but she waved a hand at him and shook her head.

'I'm fine,' she said, wiping her eyes. 'I...I think I'll go upstairs.'

'I'll go with you,' Ron offered.

'No, no,' said Hermione. 'I just want to check on my parents.'

She gave Ron a weak smile and started out of the kitchen; he watched her go, and felt the weight of guilt pressing on his chest. He barely noticed when Bill and Charlie and Percy all hugged him.

All Ron could see was the look on Hermione's face as she left the kitchen; all he could feel was the sting of her rejection of his embrace. It told him all he needed to know.

She could tell him all she wanted that she didn't blame him for not foreseeing the attack on her parents, but Ron knew the truth: tonight was _his_ fault, nothing Hermione said could change that.

* * *

'You want to talk about it?'

Harry was looking at him with concern as Ron pulled on a set of Percy's pyjamas, which were just a bit too short in the leg.

'Not really,' said Ron, running a hand through his hair.

'Okay,' said Harry, shrugging, and he started to climb into bed.

Ron found himself staring at the floor; the guilt was gnawing at him. He hadn't seen Hermione in over an hour; she was still, Ron assumed, with her parents.

_She doesn't want to see me._

_Can you blame her?_

_No._

'It's my fault,' Ron heard himself say.

Harry pulled himself up into a sitting position.

'What do you mean, it's your fault?'

'I forgot to meditate,' said Ron, sitting down heavily on his own bed. 'For a whole day. I didn't write anything down in my stupid dream diary, I didn't meditate, and...this happened.'

'Ron, come on--' Harry began.

'No, Harry,' said Ron fiercely. 'Dammit. Of all the times to slack off? When Voldemort knows there's a Seer out there?'

'How do you know you would have seen that coming?' Harry countered. 'Didn't Firenze tell you--'

'Seers can't see everything,' said Ron. 'I know. But this is different, Harry, this is her parents. Firenze also said I tend to see more clearly where people I care about are concerned. Her parents nearly died because I was too lazy or...or too stupid to do what I was supposed to do.'

'But they didn't die,' said Harry. 'You and Hermione saved them, and they saved themselves. Jesus, Ron, don't do this. Don't...don't be like me.'

Ron looked up sharply.

'How do you mean?' he said, but he had a good idea of what Harry was talking about.

'You know what I mean,' said Harry. 'Acting like you have to save the entire world by yourself. It's not possible.'

'I know, but--'

'But nothing,' said Harry, almost angrily, and he got up and crossed to Ron's bed and sat down next to him. 'Listen to me. It took Sirius being murdered, Dumbledore dying and my two best friends nearly dying for me to finally understand that. Is that what you want, to take everything on yourself until someone you love dies on you?' His voice shook. 'Because that's what'll happen if you start down that road, Ron.'

There was a thin film of tears over Harry's green eyes; he blinked and looked away.

'Don't be like me,' he repeated. 'You need your friends. You can only do so much.' He looked at Ron now, and put a hand on his shoulder. 'You've done a hell of a lot of good already.'

Ron felt a lump rise in his throat, and he swallowed. How many times had he been in this same position, reassuring Harry, trying to take away the burdens of guilt and responsibility that he so often placed--far too heavily--upon himself? For so long, Ron had felt like the older brother to Harry, and yet now, Harry was the older brother, the wiser one.

'I know,' Ron managed. 'I just...I think she blames me, Harry. For what happened. She wouldn't let me hug her.'

'Hermione doesn't blame you,' said Harry forcefully. 'She'd never blame you. She's just in shock.'

Ron let out a bitter laugh.

'You could say that,' he said. 'It was bad, Harry. She...she killed one of them. And her mum, she did, too.'

'Her mum?' said Harry. 'How?'

'With a gun,' said Ron. 'I've never seen anything like that. All that blood...and it was so loud. And supposedly it's illegal to keep one. At least that's what Hermione says.'

'Yeah, I think the Muggles changed the laws in the past year or so,' said Harry. 'Uncle Vernon was complaining about it a while back, said just when he was working up the nerve to--what was it--oh yeah, "put one between my eyes", the government went and banned guns.'

Ron laughed again and shook his head.

'Nice family, Potter,' he said.

'They're not my family,' said Harry, and he gave Ron a meaningful look.

'Are you getting mushy on me?' Ron asked.

'Fuck you,' said Harry, grinning.

They laughed for a moment, and then Ron was serious again.

'I just...I don't know how to be around her,' he said finally. 'I know I shouldn't feel guilty but I do. And...maybe she won't blame me for it but I can't help but wonder if it wouldn't be easier if she did. Shit, I dunno what I'm talking about...I have to meditate...'

'What, now?'

'Yes, now,' said Ron, standing up. 'I let it go all yesterday, and today.'

'Ron, it's late, you're exhausted,' Harry protested.

'I have to do this, Harry,' said Ron. 'I'm not trying to be heroic or stupid or anything. I just...I have to.'

Harry gazed at him for a long moment.

'Okay,' he said, 'but you have to meditate in here.'

'Harry, I can't,' said Ron. 'I wouldn't be able to concentrate with you in here--'

'So do it in the loo,' said Harry. 'I mean it, Ron. If something happens--'

'Nothing will happen to me,' said Ron. 'I recover a lot faster now.'

'I meant to me,' said Harry. 'I might still have crazy nightmares, remember? Voldemort might decide tonight's the night to have a little fun messing with my head.'

Ron stared at him; Harry was openly manipulating him, and both knew it. Harry had the grace to look at least a little guilty about it.

'Prat,' said Ron.

'I know,' said Harry, but Ron saw the concern on his best mate's face. However Harry might be manipulating him, Ron had to admit, it would be easier on him, as well, to simply stay close by.

'I'll stay,' said Ron.

* * *

In the end, meditating accomplished rather what Ron expected: nothing. In fact, the only vision he had concerning anyone he knew was, oddly, one in which Pansy Parkinson was in an unfamiliar room, stirring some sort of potion in a cauldron. He wrote it down in his journal, as with all the other visions; he supposed he ought to wonder why he would have a vision of Pansy--of all people--stirring a potion, but just as quickly he dismissed it as nothing more than the rest of the random jumbles of pictures he was seeing in his mind. Pansy stirring a potion in a cauldron was hardly noteworthy, seeing as Ron saw her do this every day in Potions' lessons.

Ron exited the loo at half past midnight to find Harry sleeping. He slept quite soundly, but for the occasional unintelligible murmur. Ron crawled into bed, but after ten minutes of staring at the ceiling, he realized that for all his exhaustion, he was too keyed up to sleep.

He climbed out of bed, careful not to make too much noise; there was enough moonlight streaming into the room that he could see well enough to walk to the door, wand in hand.

He padded down to the kitchen, hoping against hope to find it empty. Part of him had wanted to talk to Hermione before he'd gone to sleep, but she never did make an appearance at his door, and in any case, the part of him that wanted to see her was outweighed by the part of him that was afraid to look her in the eyes, and see disappointment and blame written there.

Any hope of avoiding Hermione tonight was ended when Ron opened the kitchen door.

She was there, her back to him, sitting in a chair with her legs curled up beneath her chin; she didn't seem to have heard him enter the room. Her shoulders were shaking, and her head was bowed over her elbows, which she'd wrapped around her knees.

He swallowed. For a moment, he debated fleeing, letting her cry alone.

_Coward.___

The sight of her, the sound of her small sobs--she was clearly trying to be quiet--stabbed at his heart.

'Hermione?'

She gave a started and looked up, and turned round in the chair.

'Ron.'

Her eyes were swollen and red; she had been crying for some time. She looked about to say something, but more tears began to flow, and she gave another sob.

'Hey,' Ron whispered, and he crossed the room, doing what instinct told him. He knelt in front of her chair and pulled her into his arms; she collapsed against him and clung to him fiercely, landing on his lap.

'Shh,' he whispered, stroking her tangled hair.

'Everything's so awful,' she cried, burying her face in his shoulder.

'I know,' he said, his voice cracking. 'I'm so sorry, love...I'm sorry...I should have seen this coming...'

At this she pulled back and looked at him sharply.

'Don't,' she said. 'Don't you dare. If you're going to apologize for anything, apologize for throwing yourself in front of my dad.'

'What?' said Ron, confused.

'Why, Ron?' she asked, her eyes filling again. 'How could you...what were you thinking?'

'Hermione, I don't know what you're saying--'

'Is it because you felt guilty, is that it?' she demanded, sounding angry now. 'You forgot to meditate, so you threw yourself in front of my dad when that Death Eater...when...oh god...'

She sat back and buried her face in her hands.

'Hermione, please,' Ron begged.

'You were going to let him kill you!' she cried out, pushing his shoulders. 'How could you? He was aiming the Killing Curse and you...you threw yourself in the way of my dad!'

Ron felt his shoulders sag. He had forgotten all about that. In the heat of the moment, the only memory that had stayed with him was the sound of the rifle blast, the sight of the Death Eater being thrown backwards against the wall as his chest blew apart and blood went everywhere.

'I...I wasn't really thinking--' he said.

'That's just it, isn't it?' said Hermione furiously, and she stood up and started to pace. 'You never think, you just act!'

'That's not true!' said Ron defensively, and he stood up. 'You're being unfair--'

'You could have died!' she yelled, clearly not caring if she woke the household.

'What else was I supposed to do?' Ron countered angrily, remembering at least to keep his voice at a reasonable level. 'Let your father die?'

'No!' Hermione cried out, and she pounded her small fists on his chest. 'You were supposed to throw a Shield Charm, remember? We've only been working on them for the whole term!'

'Well, I forgot, okay?' Ron said brokenly. 'You're right! I should have done that, but I didn't! I'm sorry!'

_Some Auror I'll make._

'Dammit, Ron, you're not supposed to make me choose between my father and you,' Hermione sobbed, turning away from him.

Ron stared at her. For a long moment, the only sound was that of her crying.

'I never meant--'

'The worst part of it is that I did choose,' she said, whirling on him and raking her hands through her hair. 'In that moment I prayed to whoever would listen that if anyone had to die it wouldn't be you! Because...I could stand living without Dad but...but not without you...'

She broke down again, and Ron could do nothing but watch, and feel wretched.

'And that's not all,' she said, wiping her face. 'I killed somebody tonight. I killed a human being. And I don't care! I slashed that man's _aorta_ open, Ron, because he tried to hurt you! Why don't I care that he's dead? You cared! You were a mess about Dolohov all I can do is...is stand here and feel glad that I killed that nameless, faceless bastard, and know that I'd do it a thousand times over and still not care if it meant saving you...'

Her voice failed her, and she sank back into her chair. Ron watched her miserably. She never doubted herself this badly, not anymore. He didn't know what to do, but he couldn't keep standing there like a lump. He sat down on the chair next to her, and turned it to face her.

'Hermione,' he whispered. 'Don't do this.'

'Who am I?' she whispered, looking at him with swollen, bloodshot eyes. 'What am I, that I could actually choose between my father and you? That I could kill a man and be glad for it?'

Ron swallowed. What on earth could he say to this question?

'Hermione,' he said slowly, and he put a hand on her arm. She brushed his hand away and shook her head.

'How can you even look at me?' she whimpered.

'What's that supposed to mean?' said Ron angrily. 'Hermione, do you want to know what you are? You're the most brilliant witch I've ever met, and you're brave and noble and...okay, fine. You're a bit scary when you're hacked off. But you saved my life tonight...I want you in my corner, do you hear? And...Merlin, I don't know what to say about your dad...I just...'

He broke off; she looked at him beseechingly, willing him to tell her something to ease her heart.

'You're my family,' he said finally. 'And that means, by extension, so are your parents. I can't help wanting to protect my family. It's how Mum and Dad brought me up. I'm sorry I scared you...I won't do anything that stupid again, I promise...I'll remember the Shield Charm from now on, I swear...but I did what I had to do. And it's okay. I'm here, and you're here. Everyone's alive. And if you don't feel badly about killing that Death Eater...I don't know what to tell you, except that if you hadn't he would have killed me, and then you, and his friends would have tortured and murdered your parents. If you killed that guy because you love me and wanted to save my life, nobody can say what you did was wrong.'

'You didn't kill anyone tonight,' said Hermione softly.

Ron started to protest, but then stopped. She was right. He had only broken the other Death Eater's leg, and Stunned him.

_Because you'd killed someone before, and you didn't want to do it again, so you came up with something else, and it worked. _

'What if I do it again?' Hermione asked.

'You won't,' said Ron. 'You'll do something else, just like I did.'

'I don't want to be evil,' she whispered.

'Shut up,' said Ron, putting a hand over her mouth. 'Don't you ever say that. You're not. Dammit, Hermione, you're not evil. They're evil, they go around torturing and killing people for sport. You're not them. You're good. I love you because you're good...please, don't do this to yourself.' His voice shook as the lump that had been lurking in his throat from earlier that night came creeping back up. 'And anyway,' he added, 'if you really felt good about killing that guy you wouldn't be upset about it now, so that just proves you're not like them.'

'Are you sure?'

'Bloody hell, of course, I'm sure,' he said forcefully.

Hermione looked at him and started to weep again, and he pulled her into a fierce hug.

'I love you so much,' he said, and his voice cracked as tears stung his eyelashes. 'I'll never stop, not ever.'

Her response was to sob and hold him closer. Her tears soaked his shirt, and his own tears slid down his face, and he wondered how it was that they used to argue about stupid things like homework.

At last she pulled back, and looked at him. He brushed her tears away with his thumbs, and she did the same to him.

'I love you,' she said, her voice a bit hoarse, and she smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

'I know,' he said, grinning.

She smiled for a moment, but then became serious.

'Ron, promise me something,' she said.

'What, love?' he asked, brushing a stray curl behind her ear.

'Don't put yourself in the way anymore, please,' she begged. If you'd been killed tonight...I want to die, just thinking about it...please don't do anything brave and stupid like that anymore...'

'Hermione...' he began.

_Why does she want me to promise her the impossible?_

_You'd ask her the same thing if she'd done what you did tonight. And didn't she? Didn't she act impulsively as you?_

Ron thought better of bringing up the fact--another thing he'd just remembered--that she, too, had behaved rashly when she leapt around the corner where a Death Eater was lurking.

'Please!' Hermione pleaded. 'If you have to lie to me right now...I don't care...tell me you won't...'

'I promise,' he whispered, putting a finger to her lips.

She sniffed and wiped away her tears, and smiled weakly at him. He pressed his lips softly to hers, and would have pulled away a moment later, except that she put her hands behind his neck, and kissed him harder, and then he was deepening the kiss, parting her lips with his, and suddenly they were kissing frantically, seeking solace in mouths, breath, heat.

He pulled her closer to him and they sank to the floor, still kissing, until he was on top of her; they were between the two old chairs, half under the table, and neither of them seemed to notice or care. There was only this...something bright and hopeful and alive to sustain them through the horrors of what they'd seen earlier that night.

Ron wondered how far it would go, if they should stop, if they could continue, albeit somewhere else, and yet Hermione's lips, the whispered words in his ear, her hands, spurred him on. He couldn't stop. It didn't matter that they were on the kitchen floor. All that mattered was her, and being connected with her in that singular way that drove everything else from his mind and heart.

He reached for the buttons of her pyjama top as his lips trailed to her neck, when suddenly there was a huge whoosh that came from the fireplace.

Ron and Hermione leapt up, or tried to, but instead stumbled and struggled to get up from the floor.

A figure stepped out of the fireplace; it was Tonks.

'Oi,' she said, watching them as they stood up and stepped away from each other. 'Er...sorry.'

Lupin came next, and Hermione and Ron both blushed furiously and stepped away from each other, smoothing their bedclothes.

'Good evening,' said Lupin evenly. 'You two are up late.'

'Hi,' Ron mumbled. 'We were just, er...' He glanced at Hermione for help.

'Having tea,' she said, at the same time that he blurted out 'Talking.'

Tonks and Lupin exchanged amused looks.

'Be that as it may,' said Lupin, looking around and clearly noticing the lack of anything to indicate that Ron and Hermione were in fact having tea, 'we've managed to contain the situation at your parents' house.'

'Oh!' said Hermione. 'Good. I...I'd forgotten about that.'

'Me, too,' said Ron. And he had. He wondered if he would remember any detail of this night without someone telling him; perhaps he was already trying to block it out.

'I wonder why,' Tonks muttered. Lupin gave her a look. Tonks threw him a wide-eyed, innocent sort of look back, and then faced Ron and Hermione.

'Turns out the neighbors called the coppers,' she said. 'Bloody nosy bunch, them. They heard all the noise and decided to bring in the law. In any case, Kenneth's in hospital, he should recover just fine. I'm still pissed off at myself for letting my guard down--'

'Tonks, I told you--' said Lupin.

'--but,' she said, as if she didn't hear him, 'we did manage to persuade the police that the disturbance was nothing more than the telly being on too loud and your parents having had a few too many Christmas drinkies. They didn't even get inside the house.'

'The house is clean,' said Lupin. 'We got rid of all the...evidence of the attack and I hid the gun. Kingsley showed up to the house and reset the wards, added a few new ones, and two Aurors were sent to your parents' workplace to increase security there.'

'All that, and no Memory Charms needed,' said Tonks, sounding, if still a bit annoyed with herself, at least satisfied as to the outcome of the whole mess.

'So my parents could go home tomorrow?' said Hermione.

Tonks and Lupin exchanged looks again.

'We'll need to discuss that with your parents,' said Lupin. 'Kingsley thinks it's a bad idea for them to stay in their house, now that the Death Eaters know where it is and were able to get inside.'

'But the new wards--'

'Even if the Death Eaters couldn't ambush your parents at home,' said Lupin, 'they can certainly try while your parents are on their way to work. There's no way to protect them completely if they stay in Uxbridge.'

'Where would they go?' Ron asked.

'For the moment, nowhere,' said Tonks. 'Best they stay here, at least for a few days, so we can figure something out for them. But they'll need to move somewhere else soon.'

'We don't have to talk about this with them now, do we?' Hermione asked, looking fretful.

'No,' said Lupin kindly. 'I think it can keep a few days. Your parents are probably too far gone on Molly's tea right now, at any rate.'

'Thank you both,' said Hermione, smiling weakly. 'If you hadn't come when you did...'

'We're alive and in one piece,' said Lupin, giving Tonks an affectionate look. 'That's what matters.'

Tonks took a breath and looked at him, and Ron saw something pass between them that was very familiar to him now.

'It's very late,' said Lupin at last. 'We should all try to get some rest.'

He gave Ron a pointed look; clearly, he had no intention of leaving them alone in the kitchen, and yet Ron knew it wasn't because his former professor disapproved, so much as Lupin's desire to protect them from being discovered by anyone else.

'Okay,' said Ron, giving Hermione's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

'Tonks, I'll need to look at your shoulder--'

'It's fine, Remus,' Tonks said impatiently, as they all started out of the kitchen.

'No arguments,' said Lupin firmly.

Ron and Hermione looked at one another and smiled.

It had been the worst Christmas of his life, and yet, she was here, beside him, and she loved him, and didn't blame him, and he loved her. His family was here, and alive, and so was her family.

There was something to that.

* * *

The next week passed faster than Ron would have expected, and though he was glad for it, at the same time he didn't much relish returning to Hogwarts. For the first time in his life he realized how isolated everyone was at the school: isolated from family and news and everything else.

He meditated frequently, to no real benefit. Everything he saw seemed, at least on the surface, to be meaningless to him--images of Muggles were everywhere, and he knew none of them--but he wrote everything down dutifully in his diary, and reported to Lupin whenever he could. It was difficult, though, to convey information in private in this house. His parents still didn't know his secret, and neither did most of his family. Kingsley Shacklebolt had informally taken on a leadership role within the Order, along with Mr. Weasley, but Ron was certain he couldn't confide in either of them. His father was too close; Kingsley, not close enough. Lupin was the best choice, except that he disappeared for a few days in the middle of the week, owing to the full moon.

He confided in Hermione, Harry and Ginny about his many dreams and visions, and Hermione dutifully recorded them in her ever expanding list, which seemed to be getting beyond manageable. Ron mentioned the vision of Pansy, but Hermione agreed with Ron's assessment that it meant nothing. Considering Ron also had a vision of Ernie MacMillan working in the library, it was clear that Ron's abilities were only growing stronger, in that he was beginning to see more and more mundane things. Ron made a mental note to ask Firenze how he could better focus his mental energies, because the more pointless images he saw, the more nervous he became. If he couldn't see something useful, he was no good to anyone.

And yet, but for the attack on the Grangers, there was silence from Voldemort's side. Nobody thought this was a good thing.

Hermione, for her part, spent most of her time with her parents, who seemed to be coping as well as they could with their new circumstances. But the entire situation was strained for everyone. She found almost no time to spend with Ron, and any hope for privacy in the house was fruitless. In any case, Ron decided it was probably for the best that he didn't have any alone time with Hermione; such things were a distraction, and he needed to focus, he needed to be sure he was doing all he could to stay on top of his responsibilities.

The worst part of it all was that they were house-bound for the whole week. The weather was partly responsible--it turned frigid, and sleet pelted London for several days. But security was the other reason, particularly since the Grangers were in the house. Lupin insisted that the Grangers, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny all stay indoors. Nobody much liked this at all, but Hermione--always trying to find something positive about an unpleasant situation--suggested they use the time to get caught up, and get ahead, on their studies.

'And there's career counseling,' Hermione said, trying to sound. 'Apparently all sorts of people come to talk to the seventh years about what careers they're interested in. I still don't know what I want to do, though; I've got all the letters of recommendation I need but actually choosing one thing is so difficult.'

Both Ron and Harry assured Hermione she could do whatever she wanted to do, but none of them mentioned what they were really thinking: that they would be lucky to survive the war and have careers at all.

Nobody argued, however, with Hermione's logic about doing homework; they all spent much of their time studying. Ron, as a result, got all his homework done ahead of time; for the first time, he wouldn't have to cram when he got back to school.

It was two days before Ron and the others returned to Hogwarts that Lupin, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, and an aide to Minister Bones came to the house to announce that they had made plans to secure the Grangers' safety. Lupin took the Grangers to the kitchen; Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny were forbidden from attending. The Grangers protested their daughter's forced absence, but Kingsley, not unkindly, told them it was the safest course; if their daughter didn't know where they were, she couldn't be forced to tell anyone. This convinced the Grangers to agree to be told in private.

Hermione, however, was not appeased, and immediately tried to come up with a way to eavesdrop. Her first inclination was to use the twins' new and improved Extendable Ears, but Ginny shook her head.

'Won't work,' she said. 'The kitchen door is sealed, and Mum put up even tougher charms on it.'

'Surely I can try--' Hermione said.

'Trust me, it's no good,' said Ginny. 'Fred told me he's got Mum helping him and George now with their inventions. She's the one who comes up with counter-measures, so they can keep improving their products. There's no way you'll hear anything going on in that meeting.'

And so Hermione was left to fret about her parents' fate. Ron, for his part, couldn't help but agree with Kingsley and Lupin. After the narrow escape on Christmas night, Ron didn't think it was wise to take chances with spreading around too much information.

After a few hours, Lupin appeared in the parlor, to find Hermione pacing, Ginny attempting a Potions essay, and Ron and Harry playing a half-hearted game of chess.

'Where are Mum and Dad?' Hermione asked at once.

'They wanted some time to talk things through, alone,' said Lupin. 'Which is fine, because I need to discuss some things with you, and it's best if they're not here.'

At this, Lupin turned and aimed his wand at the parlor door; it closed behind him with a soft click and locked; he then set another Locking Charm, as well as a Silencing Charm.

'Where's Tonks?' Ron asked.

'She, Kingsley and Mr. Forrester--that's one of Madam Bones's top aides--have gone back to the Ministry to file a report. Tonks will be back later,' said Lupin.

He looked at all of them, and cleared his throat.

'Perhaps we should all sit down,' he suggested. Lupin looked tired, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't bothered to shave for the past few days, Ron noticed, and there was more grey in his three-days-old beard than before.

Everyone else sat, and Lupin spoke.

'Before we let you know what's happening,' he said, 'there's something we have to talk about. Kingsley and Tonks have been analyzing the situation with regard to the attack on your parents' home, Hermione. Do you remember if you or Ron mentioned to anyone else, apart from anyone in this room, your plans for you and Ron to stay in Uxbridge?'

Ron and Hermione looked at each other for a moment; Ron knew he hadn't said anything to anyone.

'No,' said Hermione, and Ron nodded his agreement.

'You're sure?' said Lupin.

'Yes,' said Ron. 'We didn't say anything.'

Lupin let out a breath and sat back.

'This isn't good,' he said, and he turned to Ron and Hermione. 'We believe the Death Eaters knew you would be there. That's why they chose that night to attack.'

'But...how could they have known?' said Hermione. 'If only the people in this room knew--'

'We believe someone must have fed Voldemort the information,' said Lupin gravely.

'A spy,' said Harry, and he looked at Ron, and then at Hermione and Ginny.

'Someone from Hogwarts,' Ron added.

'It's looking that way,' said Lupin.

'But how?' said Ginny. 'We've been really careful, Professor, we haven't said anything to anyone.'

'I know, Ginny,' said Lupin, 'but Kingsley and Tonks have been very thorough in checking people on this end. As of now it looks like the only possibility is someone at Hogwarts. And no, it's not Severus Snape. He has used up his second chances with Voldemort. And it's not Griselda Hopkirk, either, just in case you might have wondered.'

'You know Hopkirk?' said Harry.

'Professor Hopkirk, and yes, I do,' said Lupin.

'Why didn't you say so before?' said Harry, sounding a bit exasperated.

'You never asked,' said Lupin evenly. 'In any case, I should think all of you, and I, are a bit too busy to concern ourselves with the past. Trust me, Harry, my knowing Griselda means nothing to what must be done in the here and now. I never meant to keep it from you, it simply never came up.'

Harry pursed his lips and frowned, but he nodded, and let the subject drop.

'So,' said Lupin, 'it appears our next task must be to find a spy in Hogwarts. The problem is narrowing down the field.'

'We have a few people in mind,' said Harry darkly.

'Draco Malfoy, I presume,' said Lupin. 'Possible, I suppose, but not all that probable, considering his circumstances.'

'His father's a Death Eater,' said Harry. 'Maybe they had their falling out but that doesn't mean Draco has given up on the idea. Maybe he wants to try redeeming himself in front of Voldemort, and spying on us is the way to do it.'

'The "falling out" Draco had with his father resulted in Lucius turning over his son to be murdered at the hands of Voldemort's supporters,' said Lupin, shaking his head.

'Either way,' said Ginny, interrupting Harry, who looked about to argue, 'we don't know. But I can find out.'

Lupin eyed her. 'Are you sure that's wise?'

'Malfoy trusts me,' said Ginny, screwing up her face in distaste, 'however creepy that is. And Mrs. Tonks is looking out for me. Maybe she can help.'

'Not a bad idea,' said Lupin.

'Not a good one, either,' Harry mumbled.

'Harry, we don't have a choice,' said Ginny. 'Things are getting serious.'

'You don't have to remind me of that, Gin,' said Harry irritably. 'I know, okay?'

'Easy, Harry,' said Lupin softly. 'Ginny's right. For the record, I'm not totally comfortable with it, either.'

Harry sighed. 'Sorry, Ginny,' he said, looking at her apologetically.

'It's okay,' she said, and she took his hand.

'So,' said Lupin, 'Malfoy is a suspect. Anyone else?'

'Theodore Nott,' said Ron at once. 'He said something about Charlie before we came home, seemed to know what happened. And his father's a Death Eater, too.'

'Nott, Sr. has never struck me as being a leader in the Death Eater ranks,' said Lupin.

'Maybe not,' said Ron, 'but Theodore's kind of taken over Draco's old crew. Maybe Theodore wants to be a leader in the Death Eater ranks.'

'And Pansy Parkinson,' said Harry.

Hermione let out a snort.

'You're joking, Harry,' she said.

'No, I'm not,' said Harry. 'She and Malfoy are close. Really close. Malfoy might have told her something.' Ginny gave him a look, and he added, 'Or maybe he hasn't yet, but he could. And just because her parents might not be running around with Voldemort doesn't mean she wouldn't.'

'Harry, think about it logically,' said Hermione. 'Draco is _persona non grata_ in Slytherin at the moment. Do you really think she'd be hanging around him if she were a Death Eater training? For what purpose? She can't get close to any of us, and what meaningful information does Draco have about us that he could pass along? Not to mention she doesn't have enough brains to fill an egg cup.'

'Ron had that vision about her, though,' said Harry.

'She was stirring a potion in a cauldron,' said Ron. 'We see her do that all the time. It doesn't mean anything.'

'Are you sure about that?'

Ron was about to argue, but stopped. Was he sure? It seemed ridiculous. Pansy Parkinson? She had never done anything but play the simpering, dumb female companion to Draco. She certainly hadn't been anywhere near the scene at the Riddle House, all those months ago.

'She saw me have that vision a few months back, at the Halloween ball,' Ron said. 'Remember?'

'And it wasn't all that long after that that Voldemort found out there was a Seer working against him,' said Harry.

'Oh, really!' said Hermione impatiently, and she got up and began to pace. 'You think Pansy would have been able to figure out Ron was a Seer just by witnessing him having what looked like nothing more than a seizure?'

'The boys have a point, Hermione,' said Lupin. 'Ginny, is it possible for you to find out anything about Pansy from Draco?'

'I already know some things,' Ginny said warily.

'I know normally you'd want to keep his trust,' said Lupin, 'however...strange the concept might seem, but where this is concerned...'

Ginny swallowed. 'He said...he and Pansy sometimes have sex, and that she's his only real friend. Except that sometimes he can't stand being around her. He says she's manipulative.'

'And he's such an honest, upfront sort of bloke,' said Ron sarcastically.

'He's not,' said Ginny, 'but he can't hide stuff from me, either. I can tell when he's lying or covering something. I asked him if he confides in Pansy about things--I mean, really personal things--and he said no. I didn't get any sense he was lying about that.'

Lupin seemed satisfied with this; Harry looked a bit disgruntled, but then, Ron felt the same way. He didn't at all like the idea of Ginny having to spend any time with Draco.

'What about Nott?' said Lupin.

'We could always try Polyjuice Potion again,' said Ron, shrugging. 'Pretend to be Crabbe and Goyle.'

Lupin gave a little laugh. 'When did you lot use Polyjuice?'

'Oh,' said Ron, realizing he had just blurted out a major instance of rule-breaking to their former professor. 'Er, I meant, we could just try it...you know...'

Hermione shook her head. 'We used it in second year to see if Draco was the Heir of Slytherin. I made it.'

'Somehow that doesn't surprise me,' said Lupin. 'That's actually not a terrible idea, Ron, except that brewing Polyjuice Potion takes time, time we don't have.'

'Right,' said Ron.

'We could try using Glamour Charms,' said Hermione.

'You mean you could,' said Harry. 'I'm not very good at those.'

'And they kind of hurt,' said Ron.

'Of course, there's always a certain cloak and map available,' said Lupin, and Harry and Ron couldn't help but grin, and Ron wondered that they were discussing, with their old professor, how best to break the rules in order to spy on their fellow students.

'The cloak doesn't really work for Ron anymore,' said Harry, 'since he turned into a giant--'

'Hey! I'm not _that_ tall!'

'--but I can use it,' Harry went on. 'In fact, maybe it's better if I just do this one alone. It'll be easier to follow Nott around that way.'

'Are you sure that's wise, Harry?' said Hermione nervously. 'If you got caught--'

'Hermione, I'm supposed to destroy Voldemort,' said Harry. 'I think I can take on Nott and those two lumps.'

'You should be careful all the same, Harry,' said Lupin.

'Professor...' Hermione said.

'Please, call me Remus,' said Lupin.

'Er, Remus,' said Hermione, 'what if the spy is someone else? I mean, maybe it's not a student, or a Slytherin at all.'

'You're right, of course,' said Lupin. 'It could be someone else entirely, someone we haven't considered. But this is a start; at the very least we can eliminate these students from contention if they're not involved.'

'What if it's a teacher?' said Ron, remembering first year and Professor Quirrell.

'Don't think we haven't considered that as well,' said Lupin. 'But we're working on that part. Don't worry about it. I don't want to burden you all too much; you still have to do your schoolwork and focus on those end-of-year exams. And of course...'

'Find a way to rid the world of Voldemort once and for all,' said Harry dryly.

'Yes, that too,' said Lupin. 'And for now, Ron, Ginny...Professor McGonagall and I think it best that you two keep your gifts to yourselves. I understand the desire to tell your family, but it's safer if they don't know.'

Lupin didn't have to elaborate why; Ron swallowed. If any of his family members knew about him being a Seer, and they were subsequently taken by Death Eaters, the information could be tortured out of them.

'R-Remus,' said Hermione slowly. 'What about my parents?'

'Ah,' said Lupin, and he looked at her sadly. 'I'm afraid, Hermione, I must be silent on the details of our plans to help them, for the same reason Ron and Ginny must keep quiet about their unique skills.'

'You're not going to tell me anything?' said Hermione. 'About where they're going?'

'We can't,' said Lupin.

'But--'

'Please, understand, Hermione,' said Lupin, leaning forward. 'Your parents are in terrible danger. They have to go to a secure location, but it's only truly secure if you don't know where they are. Safer for them and for you.'

Tears filled Hermione's eyes, and she nodded; she reached for Ron's hand, and he took it.

'Can I talk to them?' she asked.

'Of course,' said Lupin. 'Hermione, I'm so very sorry about this. This isn't easy on any of you, I know. But your parents have agreed to it, not just for their sake but for yours.'

'I can write to them, anyway,' said Hermione, shrugging.

'Actually, no, you can't,' said Lupin. 'That's part of the arrangement. All contact between you and your parents has to be suspended. They won't be hooked up to the Floo Network in a way that you can reach them. And owls, as we all know, can be intercepted.'

The tears in Hermione's eyes began to fall. 'I can't write to them...or talk to them...ever?'

'For as long as they're in hiding, no, you can't,' said Lupin.

Hermione sniffed, and pursed her lips. 'I don't believe this,' she whispered.

Ron felt a new wave of guilt rush through him, and he looked at Lupin miserably.

'Are you sure it has to be this way?' he asked.

'I'm afraid so, Ron,' he said. 'And you shouldn't blame yourself. Nobody should blame anyone here for what's happened. It was a foregone conclusion that we would have to take this step at some point, with Hermione's parents. That time appears to be now.'

'W-when are they leaving?'

'They'll leave on the day you go back to school,' said Lupin. 'Two days.'

* * *

Hermione spent the next two days entirely with her parents. New Year's Eve was quiet; Mrs. Weasley made a festive meal, and the entire Weasley family was there, as well as Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody; Mundungus Fletcher put in an appearance, apparently to talk 'business' with the twins (Mrs. Weasley eyed Mundungus with deep distaste, and clucked her tongue at the twins later, after Fletcher had left).

Fleur seemed to be feeling a bit better; Bill had mentioned that her pregnancy hadn't been easy on her. Ron couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking, having a baby at a time like this, but he tried to be happy for them, because Bill and Fleur looked happy. The twins bragged about their newest, improved Wildfire Whiz-bang fireworks. Charlie was no longer walking on a crutch, but he still had faint bruises and walked with a slight limp.

Ron could hardly call midnight 'ringing in the new year', considering how subdued everyone generally was. What hurt the most, perhaps, was that the brief kiss he shared with Hermione, at midnight, was their first New Year's kiss as a couple, and yet it was tainted by the sadness of what was happening to Hermione's parents.

It was nearly two in the morning when Mrs. Weasley insisted everyone go to bed for the night. Harry and Ginny nonetheless lingered in the kitchen, almost certainly for some privacy; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't protest this.

Hermione and Ron found themselves alone in the parlor for a time, and they didn't speak, or kiss. They simply clung to each other in the dark, trying to make sense of all that had happened, and of all that was coming next.

When Ron finally dragged himself to bed, it was almost three in the morning. Harry was already in bed, sleeping heavily. Ron went through the motions of brushing his teeth and washing his face, before pulling on pyjamas and climbing into his own bed. He was asleep almost at once...

_Somewhere in Diagon Alley, people were running, screaming...a chandelier inside Gringott's bank came crashing down as glass windows were smashed...Death Eaters were chasing a group of people down a street...Fred, George and Lee Jordan were in a darkened room, looking carefully at a strange device on a table; there was a flash, and the three of them gave a whoop and high-fived one another...George and Lee and Alicia Spinnet were laughing as they approached the entrance of the joke shop...Ron screamed at them not to go...there was another flash of light, blinding, and the front of the store exploded...Ron fell backward from the impact, screaming George's name as he went..._

_When Ron landed, he was not in the street, but in a corridor._

_'Ron, get up!' Harry urged, tugging on Ron's arm, which stung. Ron looked down to see a long gash along his right forearm. Harry's hand came away from Ron's arm with a smear of blood; the sword of Gryffindor was in Harry's right hand, the blade clean and gleaming..._

_'This way!'__ Harry urged, when they reached a fork; the corridor was somewhat familiar...it couldn't be..._

_Ron started to follow Harry down the right-hand corridor when a voice from behind 'Stop!'_

_Ron whirled around, but there was no one there._

_'You choose wrong,' said the voice. It was not a sinister, but...Ron was sure he knew that voice. The voice compelled Ron to trust..._

_'Harry, wait!' Ron cried, and he raced after his best mate..._

_Screams and blood...Harry tumbled forward, clutching his middle...the sword clattered to the floor...more screams..._

_'No!' Ron was the one screaming. He was falling again, falling toward Harry, falling..._

_He was in another room, surrounded by windows on all sides. He stared out the windows; it was pitch black outside, but for tiny points of light, far away...the lights came closer, grew bigger...the ground shook..._

_Ron whirled around and he was in the Potions dungeon; Hermione was brewing something over a small flame; her eyes were tired and red, and almost feverish, as she pinched ingredients carefully into a cauldron...the potion flared and she gave a small cry and burst into tears...Ron moved to comfort her, but when she looked up, it was Pansy he was seeing._

_'What do you want, Weasley?' she hissed, giving him a dirty look before returning her attention to her own cauldron, which bubbled with a thick, greenish potion that Ron recognized..._

_'Weasel...' Ron whirled around again, and Draco Malfoy was there. Pansy laughed; Ron looked back, and Ginny stood next to her, crying silently..._

_'Ginny!' he cried, rushing to her, but Draco tripped him...Ron went sprawling..._

_He looked up and saw he was in yet another room, a room he knew he'd never seen before...his hands were covered in blood...his shirt was covered in blood...but he felt no real pain...he couldn't be wounded...whose blood was on his hands? He looked up and Harry was there, holding Gryffindor's sword...the blade was coated dark red. Harry's face was streaked with tears._

_'Ron...' _

_Ron spoke; his voice sounded funny._

_'Finish it, Harry...'_

_The scream from behind penetrated Ron's consciousness; Hermione..._

_'RON!'_

'Ron! RON!'

Ron sat up sharply and cried out, finding himself looking into the green eyes of Harry.

'What?' Ron said dumbly, running a hand through his hair, which was sweaty. He shivered.

'It's morning,' said Harry. 'We're going back to school in an hour. You were just muttering in your sleep.'

'Muttering...' Ron said, shaking his head, and then suddenly it all came rushing back.

'I was dreaming,' he said.

'Obviously,' said Harry.

Ron gaped up at Harry, and suddenly leapt up out of bed.

'Shit!' he hissed.

'Ron, what's wrong?' Harry asked.

Ron didn't answer; instead he grabbed his dream diary and quill and began to scribble furiously; the details of the dream--so vivid, so long, so full of images--were already slipping away.

'Ron?'

'Shut up,' Ron cried, writing, and Harry obeyed, and let Ron finish; it took all of five minutes; Ron's eyes frantically scanned the pages he'd written, and he knew he hadn't remembered everything. Something about Fred and George...and the store...they had invented something new, or were going to...it seemed important...Death Eaters chasing people...a broken chandelier...Pansy and Hermione at their cauldrons...Harry holding a sword...blood on Ron's hands, his shirt...the voice in the corridor...

'Too much,' Ron groaned. 'Too many things happened. I can't remember it all.'

'What, Ron?' Harry said insistently.

Ron looked at Harry. 'My dream,' he said. 'I dunno what it all means, but I know it's bad. I have to find Lupin, right now.'

* * *

**A/N: Finally, it's done. This one was even harder to write than the last. I appreciate everyone sticking with this story. I have to continue to ask your patience regarding updates. Right now I am extremely busy and I'm lucky to get an hour a day to write; as the story gets more complex I cannot possibly rush things, I must take the proper time and care to ensure that the story works--I have no desire to do a re-write, as I did with BoMLF. As such, updates are just not going to happen as often as I or anyone else would like, and there's nothing I can do about it.**

****


	36. Chapter Thirty Six: A Spy Among Them

_Chapter Thirty-Six: A Spy Among Them_

The journey back to Hogwarts was the longest in Harry's memory, as well as the most uncomfortable. The Knight Bus was full to capacity and made numerous stops, letting passengers off only to bring new ones aboard.

Ron and Hermione were both on edge; Ron was frustrated over his inability to remember all the details of his dream; Hermione had done little more than alternately cry, brood, and cry again, since saying good-bye to her parents that morning.

Harry grimaced as he recalled the scene: all three Grangers crying; Hermione begging her parents to be careful; Dr. Granger asking Ron to look after 'his little girl'; Mrs. Granger's forced assurances that they wouldn't be gone long, that they would see each other again soon. And yet the desperation with which they spoke made it clear that they were terrified that their good-byes would be permanent. Harry didn't know who to feel sorrier for.

Ron had told Lupin all the details of his dream that he remembered; a few more of them had come to him, this very morning, including the scene of his brothers' store exploding. This had greatly upset Ron, who had begged his brothers not to go into work; Fred and George joked at first but then looked concerned at Ron's obvious fear; Ginny surreptitiously calmed Ron down while Lupin Flooed Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kingsley immediately sent four Aurors to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to sweep the shop for explosive devices. The process, Kingsley had said, could take hours; when Harry and the others left Grimmauld Place, the Aurors were still at it. Ron could not be assured of any news until this evening, at the earliest. For the moment, he was left to brood on the jostling, crowded Knight Bus.

Harry and his friends spent almost the entire trip in silence; Harry flattened his fringe over his scar to prevent anyone from recognizing him, and all four of them kept their school books out, pretending to read so that no one would disturb them. Hermione leaned against Ron, looking exhausted, and when the Knight Bus at last pulled into Hogsmeade, the four of them agreed that they would never again travel that way, if they could help it.

The castle was thankfully quiet when they entered; most of the students were not yet back from the holiday. Harry and the others left their things in the foyer, to be fetched by house elves later. It was a testament to Hermione's mental state that she said not a word about house elves having to carry her things.

She and Ron then parted ways with Harry and headed toward the Head Boy and Girl rooms; Harry heard Hermione remind Ron about the prefect meeting they were to lead that very night, which led Ron to mutter 'Bugger'.

'You think they'll be okay?' Ginny asked, taking Harry's hand.

'I hope so,' said Harry, feeling heavy-hearted.

'Potter. Miss Weasley.'

The familiar voice startled them, and they looked up to see Professor Snape glowering at them.

'Hello, Professor,' said Harry coolly.

'Professor,' said Ginny, nodding.

'Potter, you're to come with me,' said Snape shortly.

'Why, sir?' Harry asked warily, as Ginny clutched his hand.

'You'll find out in due course,' said Snape, with a flash of irritation. 'Now, come along.'

Harry swallowed; whatever Snape was going on about did not sound good, but the look on the Potions' Master's face left no room for argument.

'I'll see you back in the common room, Gin,' Harry said, squeezing her hand. She smiled and squeezed back.

'Let's go, Potter,' said Snape. Harry gave Ginny a quick smile before turning and following the sweep of Snape's black robes.

They stopped in front of the entrance to Dumbeldore's office. Harry swallowed a sudden lump in his throat.

Here? Of all places Snape brings me here? What are we doing here?

'Sir, this is--' Harry began.

'Ear wax,' said Snape, in a clear, loud voice. Harry was just about to ask what on earth the professor was talking about when the door to Dumbledore's office creaked open, and the stairs beneath the statue of the phoenix began to move.

'Well, go on,' Snape said sharply, and Harry stepped onto the moving stairs, Snape right behind him. They ascended; Harry's head was buzzing with questions, but they all died on his lips as they went inside the office. In their place, another rush of emotion filled his throat.

The office had been cleaned out. None of Dumbledore's hundreds of books, or his sculptures or trinkets or any of the other clutter that had made this space his office were to be seen. Even the walls were bare of paintings. All that was left of Dumbledore's possessions was his massive old desk, his chair, and a large perch, upon which rested...

'Fawkes,' Harry whispered.

The phoenix looked at Harry and gave a mournful trill. Clearly, Fawkes was getting close to a burning day; his normally brilliant scarlet plumage was thin and rough and falling out in places, and his eyes looked tired and sad.

'He's yours, Potter,' said Snape.

Harry blinked.

'Er...excuse me?'

'The bird now belongs to you,' said Snape, in a tone of one who is speaking to a slow child. 'Dumbledore left it to you in his will.'

Harry was blindsided. It was not the news that Dumbledore had a will; of course he would have, it only made sense. It was that he never expected to be in this space, a place he had come to alternately love and hate, a place he hadn't wanted to come back to since Dumbledore had died. And now here he was, with a person he found nothing short of detestable, and with the only living reminder in the room chirping softly and looking rather ready to give up the ghost himself.

'Fawkes is...mine?' Harry said dumbly. 'But why?'

'As Professor Dumbledore is sadly no longer with us I cannot possibly answer your question,' said Snape coldly. 'Suffice it to say Dumbledore left you this creature. We would have passed him along sooner but there were more important things to deal with after Dumbledore...left us.'

Harry caught the slight tremor in Snape's voice and swallowed. The Potions Master covered well, but Harry knew Snape missed Dumbledore badly. And why not? Harry couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain that Dumbledore was the only person who showed Snape any real kindness, not that Snape ever went out of his way to inspire kindness.

'Okay,' said Harry. 'Er...I guess...I'm supposed to keep him...in my room?'

'Yes, yes,' said Snape, and he pulled a small roll of parchment from his robes and shoved it at Harry, who took it.

'These are feeding and care instructions, left by Dumbledore,' Snape said imperiously. 'Fawkes is not to be kept in the owlery at any time; his habit of spontaneously combusting would be too upsetting for the owls, and the larger species would be tempted to eat him in his infant form. As an adult he's able to obtain his own food provided he has access to the outdoors, but do try to keep him separated from your owl if you can. Professor Sprout can supply you with insects for him when he's in his infant stage. If this doesn't work I'm sure one of your friends can keep him for you.'

'Right,' said Harry, looking over at Fawkes, who chirped again. Indeed, the bird almost seemed to be smiling. 'Er...is that all, sir?' Harry added, glancing at Snape.

'Yes, that is all--' Snape started to say, but just then there was a loud crash from the next room, and an angry shout.

At once, Snape and Harry had their wands out, aiming at the entrance to the next room, when an old man with a long grey beard came stumbling out, looking irritable. Harry raised his wand, but Snape groaned and pushed Harry's hand down.

'Bloody contraptions,' the old man huffed, as he pulled a strange looking device from his beard. 'I dunno why he kept all this junk--'

'How on earth did you get in here?' said Snape in an annoyed voice, addressing the old man.

The old man looked up, and Harry was struck dumb.

It was the bartender from the Hog's Head pub.

'I let myself in, of course,' said the old man. 'How the hell d'ye think I got in?'

'Aberforth, how many times must we make it clear that if you wish to further inventory your brother's things, you must first alert Headmistress McGonagall or myself--'

'Rubbish,' said the old man. 'I'm his brother, I can come here whenever I want.'

Harry stared at the old man.

_This_ was Albus Dumbledore's brother? This disheveled, grouchy, shabbily dressed old man with bad teeth and a tangled grey beard?

'Oi, what are you lookin' at?' said Aberforth, and then his eyes narrowed. 'Wait a minute. I know you. You're Harry Potter.'

'Yes, yes, this is Harry Potter,' said Snape, rolling his eyes. 'Aberforth, the reason you are not allowed to enter the castle whenever it suits your fancy is that every time you come in and undo the wards we have to redo them.'

'Then make better wards, why don't ye?' Aberforth retorted. 'I can't help it if security in this place is lax.'

'Security is not lax,' said Snape, through gritted teeth. 'Unfortunately, when your brother passed on the strength of the wards went with him, and it will be some time before we can get them back up as strong as they once were, as I'm sure I don't need to remind you.'

'Yeah, yeah,' said Aberforth, combing his beard with his fingers, which were covered with dust. 'No need to get your knickers in a twist. This is the last time I'll be comin' here, anyway.'

'I take it you've completed your inventory, then,' said Snape.

'Nothin' left in that room but a lot of junk,' said Aberforth. 'Now, if I could take this'n here...' He looked longingly at Fawkes, who gave a kind of nervous, disdainful chirp.

'As I've told you many times, the bird is Potter's property,' said Snape.

'Yeah, I know,' said Aberforth grumpily. 'Figures my older brother would leave the one good thing he has to this kid. Shame, that. Bird would have brightened up the pub a bit. 'Specially when he burns up the way he does.'

'Oh, I think there's plenty of colorful things to be found in the Hog's Head,' said Snape snidely.

Aberforth seemed to choose to ignore Snape's sarcasm, and instead stumped briskly toward Dumbledore's office door.

'Right, then,' he announced. 'I'm off. Oh, yeah, and Severus, you might be interested to know that one of your students came in the pub a few nights ago and had a meeting with someone. Kid by the name of Nott, I believe. I've seen him around the village before, hanging about with those two gorgons he calls mates. Couldn't see who the other bloke was, or even if it was a bloke. Nott looked rather serious and smug about something or other.'

'A few nights ago?' said Snape. 'And you're only telling me this now?'

'I've been busy,' said Aberforth, sniffing.

'Is this the only suspicious activity you've observed?' Snape asked sharply.

'Yeah, it is,' said Aberforth, 'unless you count that chap Ludo Bagman coming in pissed out of his mind and talkin' 'bout how the goblins are all chasin' him in his sleep.'

'What happened in this meeting with Nott and the stranger?' Snape asked, clearly struggling now not to lose his temper.

'Nothing,' said Aberforth. 'I eavesdropped pretty good--those Extendable Ears are quite the product, I must say--but all Nott and his friend seemed to be talking about was the weather.'

At this, Snape let out an audible groan and put his head in his hands. After a moment, he looked up.

'I don't suppose it occurred to you, Aberforth, that Nott might have been using some sort of coded speech with his companion?' he said.

''Course I did,' said Aberforth. 'I'm no fool, Severus.'

'And?' said Snape. 'What did Nott and his friend say?'

'Don't remember,' said Aberforth, shrugging. 'I'd had a few glasses of Ogden's by then and I was right tired. Although...wait, I do remember Nott saying something about how he was working on obtaining something. Said he was close to getting it, too. What was it? What was it? Something about soil...no...toil, coil...foil. Yes, I'm sure it was a foil. No, wait...a clingfoil.'

'A clingfoil?' Harry repeated.

_Good lord, this old man's barmy. Dumbledore was eccentric, I'll admit, but nothing like this_.

'Are you sure you heard Nott correctly, Aberforth?' said Snape dubiously.

'I'm not deaf!' Aberforth huffed. 'I heard what I heard, and I heard the kid say he wanted a bloody clingfoil. As to what such a thing is, I don't know. You're the genius, you figure it out. Kid said he was hoping to get a hold of a foil soon but that...what was it? Oh, right...he didn't quite have enough funds to purchase it.' He paused.

'Thank you, Aberforth,' said Snape, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. 'You've been very helpful. Now if you don't mind, you really must be going so I can secure this office.'

Aberforth got the hint.

'All right, then,' he said gruffly, and he started out of the office. 'By the way, Potter, Albus was always talkin' about you. Couldn't get him to shut up. Never had kids, did Albus, but he always said if he'd had, he'd have wanted a son like you. Said you were special, a good kid, were destined for great things, blah blah blah. Told me to tell ye, so I am.'

Harry swallowed yet another lump in his throat. 'Thanks,' he managed.

Aberforth gave a kind of snort. 'If you change your mind about that bird, Potter, just let me know.'

And with that, Aberforth left the office; Snape hurried after him for a moment, and Harry was sure he heard Snape distantly order an Auror to escort Aberforth from the castle.

Harry, for his part, stood frozen in place, half in shock. Between meeting Dumbledore's brother, being bequeathed Fawkes, and learning about Nott...

'Well, Potter,' said Snape, as he swept back into the office, 'if you'll just collect the bird and be on your way...'

'What about Nott?' Harry blurted. 'Can he be expelled?'

'For what?' said Snape. 'Having a meeting with an unknown person to discuss obtaining a clingfoil?'

'But he could be spying...on me, or...or on you...' said Harry, weakly.

'Obviously I have long considered this to be likely,' said Snape. 'Unfortunately we can't expel students based on the hearsay evidence of a pub owner, even if that pub owner is the brother of Albus Dumbledore. Nott is no fool, Potter--he'll never say anything too incriminating. Furthermore, you might do well to consider that acting too quickly where Nott is concerned will only cause him to change tactics, if indeed he is working on the Dark Lord's behalf. And if he is expelled outright, we could hardly keep an eye on him, now could we?'

Harry hadn't thought of that.

'No, sir,' he said.

'Well then,' said Snape, 'I suggest you let me worry about Theodore Nott. You worry about dealing with the Dark Lord. No doubt your friends will help you with that.'

Harry glared at Snape, but nodded and said, 'Yes, sir.'

'Good,' said Snape. 'Now, if you'll just take this bird with you...'

Harry nodded; the perch was far too large and heavy to carry, so Harry levitated it with his wand. Fawkes gave a squawk of protest.

'Sorry, Fawkes,' said Harry apologetically. 'We...we have to move.'

The bird gave a chirp, as though he understood, but stayed on the perch. He simply looked too exhausted to fly. Harry grimaced--he hoped he could at least get Fawkes back to his room before he exploded into flames and was reborn.

Snape opened the door to Dumbledore's office and Harry started out, but then he stopped.

'I can't believe that was Professor Dumbledore's brother,' he said, his mind still reeling somewhat from what he'd witnessed.

'Yes, you're not the only one,' said Snape wryly.

'What happened...I mean, he's just so...different from Dumbledore,' said Harry.

'That's putting it kindly,' said Snape.

'Strange,' said Harry, 'that he's a barkeep. I mean, Dumbledore was so famous--'

'Ah, well,' said Snape, 'Aberforth has...a unique history. He got in trouble with the Ministry once. There was an incident involving goats.'

Harry's eyes widened again; he vaguely remembered Dumbledore mentioning this. 'Yeah?'

'Trust me, Potter, you really don't want to know. Now, go on.'

* * *

Harry's progress back to Gryffindor Tower was fairly slow, owing to levitating Fawkes and his perch. The bird trilled sadly here and there, and Harry wondered how he must be feeling, without his former master there anymore. Fawkes gave another mournful chirp and Harry looked up at him.

'I miss him, too,' Harry said softly, reaching up to stroke the thinning red plumage.

Fawkes gave a little gurgle, and chose that moment to burst into flame.

Harry yelped as his hand was singed, and sprang backwards, forgetting his Levitation Charm as he fell painfully onto his backside. The perch clattered to the floor, and the Auror who was trailing Harry hurried to his side.

'You okay?' the young wizard said, helping Harry back up off the floor.

'Fine,' said Harry, waving his scalded hand.

'What was that?' said the Auror, who couldn't be more than just a few years older than Harry.

At that moment, Harry heard the treble warble of a newly born baby phoenix, sticking his head out from a pile of ashes on the floor.

'A phoenix,' said Harry, bending down to carefully pick the baby Fawkes up in his hands.

The Auror gazed at Fawkes in wonder. 'I've heard of them but I never really believed they were real,' he said. 'Oh, I'm James Marchbanks, by the way.'

'Harry Potter,' said Harry, shaking James's hand with his right as he held onto the baby Fawkes in his left.

'Yeah, I know,' said James.

'My dad's name was James,' said Harry.

'I know that, too,' said James. 'My gran talked about your dad a few times.'

'Your gran--'

'Madam Marchbanks,' said James. 'Oversees fifth year exams.'

'I remember,' said Harry, as they continued toward Gryffindor Tower; James levitated Fawkes's perch after Vanishing the pile of ashes on the floor.

'Anyway, she said your dad was really talented, but that he was a bit of a hell-raiser,' said James.

'That sounds about right,' said Harry, grinning.

They reached the corridor leading toward Gryffindor Tower.

'I've got to head back,' said James. 'Most of us aren't back from holiday yet so I have a bigger section to patrol. You'll be okay from here on in?'

'I'll be fine,' said Harry, and he carefully extracted his wand and took over levitating Fawkes's perch.

'See you around,' said James, smiling at Harry, and then the young Auror turned in a sweep of robes and headed away, down the corridor and back toward the main entrance.

The baby Fawkes gave a little chirp.

'Almost there,' said Harry, walking carefully round the corner to the stairs leading to Gryffindor Tower.

It was then that the sound of voices stopped him. One male, one female. And very familiar. Harry paused and listened. He knew if he barged in on the scene in a protective rage, if he interfered, Ginny would be furious. Instead, he set down the baby Fawkes carefully in the large circular pan right beneath the perch and waited.

'Please, Ginny...can't you just give me a few minutes?' Draco pleaded.

'No,' said Ginny firmly. 'Dammit, Draco, you promised--'

'I know, but I need your help now,' said Draco. 'I can't wait until our next bloody session together--'

'Well, you're going to have to!' said Ginny sharply, her voice shaking with anger. 'As it is I should report you to Mrs. Tonks.'

'Ginny, don't--'

'Go away now, Draco,' said Ginny. 'And don't bother me again. I mean it. Unless you want Harry--'

'I'm not scared of Potter,' Draco spat.

'Of course you're not,' said Ginny, sounding sarcastic. 'I have to go, Malfoy.'

'Don't walk away from me,' Draco said, his voice half pleading, half growling. 'Please, I'm all alone now!'

'What are you talking about?' Ginny hissed.

'Ginny,' Draco begged, and his voice changed. 'I need you...'

'Draco, don't--'

_Okay, now I can interfere._

'Hey!' Harry's voice didn't even sound like his as he stormed around the corner, wand raised, and raced up the stairs two and a time.

Draco, who had been gripping Ginny's arm, immediately let her go and backed away; he looked about ready to draw his own wand, but appeared to decide against it.

'I wasn't hurting your girlfriend, Potter,' he said contemptuously.

'He wasn't,' said Ginny.

'Just checking,' said Harry, glowering at Draco. 'Ginny, do you think you could help me with something?'

Ginny looked at him for a moment, confusion written all over her face; Harry could sense that she was wondering if he was being serious, or simply using a diversion to get Draco out of the way. But their eyes met and she nodded.

'Sure,' she said. 'Draco, go on.'

Draco's eyes, which had been full of loathing and jealousy and fixed on Harry, moved to Ginny, and at once became longing.

'I'm sorry,' he said, his voice sounding almost pathetic, and Harry saw the way the other boy's jaw worked, as though he despised himself for looking so desperate, and yet seemingly unable to help himself.

'It's okay,' said Ginny warily. 'Don't do it again, Draco. I mean it. I'll see you later this week.'

At this, Draco's icy grey eyes filled with hope. Harry felt slightly nauseated.

'Okay,' said Draco, nodding, and he headed off, taking another staircase down toward the direction of the Slytherin dungeon.

For a moment, Harry and Ginny watched him go.

'You okay?' said Harry, looking up at Ginny.

She let out a breath. 'I'm fine,' she said. 'Well, mostly. You're right, Harry. He's...he's getting a bit undone, isn't he?'

They started down the stairs, heading to where Harry had left Fawkes and the perch.

'Are you sure you still have to keep this up?' Harry asked softly. 'Meeting with him?'

'I'm sure,' said Ginny. 'I just...' Her voice trailed off.

'What?'

'Nothing,' she said, but Harry knew it wasn't nothing; he could feel the waves of emotion pouring off her, could see the lines of worry etched in her freckled forehead.

But he didn't press her, because the look in her eyes told him that she wasn't quite ready to talk about it, or if she was, discussing it in a public corridor was hardly the place.

They picked up Fawkes instead, and carried him and levitated his perch back to the tower, into the common room and up to his room. They didn't speak until they reached the dormitory, which was empty save for them, and Hedwig's cage, which was open and empty. She was out hunting. Harry only hoped she didn't get jealous or upset at the presence of his new pet. Or worse, try to eat him.

'I can't believe Dumbledore left him to you,' said Ginny, cradling the baby Fawkes in her hand. She was smiling.

It was then that Harry remembered meeting Aberforth Dumbledore. He told Ginny all of it.

'A clingfoil?' said Ginny. 'What is that?'

'I have no idea,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'The old man really did seem a bit cracked, if you ask me, and he said he'd had a few drinks by the time Nott went in. Aberforth could have heard it wrong. Anyway, Nott's clever enough to know to use coded language if he's meeting a Death Eater in a pub.'

'So Nott is almost certainly working for them,' said Ginny, sounding tired as she set Fawkes down gently in a new pile of ashes she had conjured. The little bird burrowed contentedly into the ashes and fell asleep at once.

'Looks that way,' said Harry. 'I mean, Aberforth couldn't say if the other person was a Death Eater or not, but who else could it be? Nott knew something about what happened to Charlie, Nott's dad is a Death Eater...and the Hog's Head is, like, a haven for sketchy types.'

'Could Nott be the spy, then?' said Ginny.

'I hope so,' said Harry fervently.

'You hope so?'

'If Nott's the spy, Ginny, you don't have to meet with Malfoy anymore,' he said.

Ginny bit her lip.

'What?' Harry asked, taking her hands. She was definitely worried. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, and wondered if it was coming from her.

'I can't stop meeting with him,' she said slowly.

Harry let out a breath. 'Why?'

'Harry, I'm scared,' she admitted. 'I mean...you told me Draco was acting really messed up before the holiday but I didn't really believe you. I mean, I knew he was already but I figured it couldn't be as bad as all that only...tonight...'

Harry stiffened. 'You're sure he didn't hurt you?' he said. 'I didn't hear everything he said to you--'

'So you were eavesdropping,' said Ginny, looking at him archly.

'Yes,' said Harry, unabashed.

Ginny smiled weakly. 'It's fine, I'm glad you were and I'm glad you came when you did. It's not that I thought he would hurt me, mind, I just...I think he's starting to come a bit...unglued.'

Harry gave a little snort and sat down on his bed.

'That's an understatement,' he said.

'The thing is, Harry,' said Ginny, 'what if I stop the sessions with him and he gets worse? What if my sessions with him are the only thing keeping him from...from hurting other people?'

'You don't think he's the spy, do you?'

Ginny shook her head. 'I'm willing to consider it as a possibility, but...my gut tells me no, he's not. But he's weak, and he's confused. He's...fragile. He could be manipulated into doing something dangerous.'

Harry regarded her for a moment, and then remembered a detail of Ron's vision, and something Ginny had said only a few days earlier. 'What about Pansy? Could she be--'

Again, Ginny shook her head. 'I doubt it,' she said firmly. 'For one thing, Draco knows what she's about. He knows she plays games. I think where Pansy's concerned, Draco's fully aware. And anyway, I'm not saying he's being manipulated now, by anyone. I'm just saying, he could be, if his mental state gets any worse. Pansy can only get so far with him, but someone else, someone cleverer, someone who is trying to help get to him. If I can stop that from happening...I have to.'

Harry sighed. 'I hate this,' he said.

'Me, too,' said Ginny.

Harry considered. 'Well, based on what I saw between those two, I think Draco probably has the power in that relationship.' He shuddered as he recalled the scene of Draco and Pansy in the empty classroom. 'She's not completely hopeless but...Draco's definitely pulling her strings.'

Harry shuddered again. Something was tickling him at the back of his brain. Something that was right there, on the edge of his consciousness, trying to push itself forward. It was an answer, or a question. Something that he knew was important, something that told him he was wrong about something. But he couldn't fathom what it could be. He went over everything he knew so far; the details in Ron's dream; what Aberforth had said; all that Hermione had written in her huge list; the codes...all of it was running together...pointing to something.

'What?' Ginny asked.

'Nothing,' said Harry, and then he shook his head. 'No, not nothing. Something's...off, but I can't figure out what it is.'

'Maybe we should find Ron and Hermione and tell them about this,' said Ginny. 'Ron might have remembered something else from his dream, and Hermione...she's good at this stuff.'

* * *

An hour later, Harry, Ginny Ron and Hermione sat in the Great Hall at supper. Professor McGonagall had returned, along with all the professors--including Hopkirk, who was talking with Snape--and most of the students, but at once, Harry noticed something.

'Where's Pansy?' he whispered, leaning over to Ginny. Ron and Hermione both looked at him quickly, with wide eyes. They all looked over at the Slytherin table and indeed, Pansy Parkinson was not there. At that moment, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass both looked at them; the look on Zabini's face was grave, and Harry knew at once that the two of them knew something.

'We'll find out later,' said Hermione softly, as Neville sat down across from them.

'Hey,' he said, nodding at everyone. Seamus and Dean sat down next to him, and everyone greeted each other.

'Good holiday?' Seamus asked lightly, spooning himself some roasted potatoes.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

'Fine,' she said shortly.

'Good,' said Ron.

Seamus and Dean exchanged looks--clearly they knew something was wrong--but they didn't comment.

'How was your holiday?' said Ginny, a bit too cheerfully, as Lavender and Parvati slid onto the bench next to her.

'Great,' said Dean, smiling. 'Went to Barbados to visit a few distant relatives. Nice to get away from this bloody cold weather. Seamus came along.'

Lavender gave a disdainful sniff and reached for a platter of green beans.

Seamus leaned over to Harry. 'Lavender's sore I didn't spend Christmas with her,' he whispered. 'But come on, would ye rather do Christmas in freezing bloody London or go to Barbados where it's warm and the girls wear almost nothin'?'

Harry pursed his lips. 'No comment,' he joked, and Ginny punched him playfully in the arm.

'How was your holiday, Neville?' Harry asked.

Neville flushed. 'Okay,' he said. 'Spent part of it with Luna, but then they went to Sweden again. They asked me if I wanted to go but...I stayed with...well, Gran wanted me to stay here.'

Harry and Neville exchanged looks; Neville's eyes were very sad, and Harry didn't need to guess why. Again Harry wondered what it must be like, to have parents who were alive but didn't know you. Whatever progress Neville might be making on his memory potion--which Harry still hadn't told anyone about--clearly, it wasn't helping his parents at all. And yet Harry noticed that Neville's eyes weren't merely sad, but wistful.

He said nothing else, and Neville nodded, indicating to Harry that they could talk about this later.

The moment the meal ended, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass walked over to the Gryffindor table; they got dirty looks from Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, but neither of them seemed to care.

Instead, Blaise and Daphne pulled Ron and Hermione aside and spoke in low voices. Harry didn't bother trying to listen in; Ron and Hermione would tell him and Ginny later. Instead Harry waited for Blaise and Daphne to finish. Harry watched them walk away; Daphne gave him a soft, friendly sort of smile before following Blaise out of the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione immediately approached Harry.

'My room, in an hour,' said Ron. 'We've got this prefect meeting we've got to deal with.'

'Okay,' said Harry. 'We've got stuff to tell you, too.'

* * *

Back in the dormitory, Harry finished unpacking. He took off his robes and changed into a heavier jumper; the castle was very cold at the moment. Seamus was with Lavender at the moment, no doubt trying to appease her for neglecting her over the holiday. Dean and Parvati had gone to the library, both of them complaining about being behind on one of Snape's essays (for once, Harry was not in the same boat). Neville entered just as Harry was fastening his jeans.

'Hey,' he said, nodding at Neville.

'Hey,' said Neville. 'I didn't want to mention it in front of anyone but...well...my potion, it works. At least, I'm pretty sure it works. I gave some samples to Augustus Pye--you know, the Healer--over the holiday and he tested them. Well, not on people, he did some kind of brain cell test, I'm not sure what it was about. But it works, he said that the potion helped fix the damaged cells, or something.'

Harry stared at Neville in wonder. 'Wow, Neville, that's fantastic.'

'Yeah,' said Neville, blushing. 'I mean, it still has to be tested on people and...well, it looks like it won't help...Mum and Dad, because they've been...like that for too long.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry.

Neville shook his head, but he wouldn't look at Harry for a moment. 'It's okay. Really. I'm okay with it. I mean, if it can help other people. Augustus is going to keep in touch with me. Or try to, anyway. It's really hard these days, everyone's scared about letters going astray and stuff, and Augustus and I have kind of sworn not to tell anyone about it. He's not even supposed to be doing those tests, he's taking a big risk.'

'It's for a good cause,' said Harry. 'Congratulations, Neville. Really.'

'Thanks,' said Neville. 'I'm just glad I was able to do something useful. I mean...I know I'm not great at much--'

'Don't say that,' said Harry.

'It's true,' said Neville insistently. 'It's okay, I'm fine with it. Really. I'm just glad I could do something. And thanks, too, Harry. For your help. I know I'm asking a lot of you, keeping it to yourself and all...'

'Forget it,' said Harry, waving a hand. 'It's no trouble.' He paused, and thought of something. 'Neville, when do you think...I mean, when do you plan on telling people? It has to come out sometime, right?'

'Augustus wants to run some more tests,' said Neville. 'He keeps saying he wants to test it on a person but...that would really be cutting it fine. I mean, he can't test it on someone without their consent, only...an insane person can't give consent so he'd have to ask a relative...so it's probably going to be a while before the potion can be tested properly. We're only keeping it a secret so...so the formula doesn't, well, fall into the wrong hands. After what happened with Luna's old book and all...you know...'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry, remembering the previous year all too well. 'Listen, Neville, I won't say anything about your potion. Until you say it's okay.'

'Thanks,' said Neville. 'I'm going to turn in early, I think. Long day tomorrow.'

Harry watched Neville gather his toothpaste and soap and head to the bathroom, and shook his head.

A memory retrieving potion. Of course there were other potions like this in existence, but it sounded like Neville had indeed made a breakthrough. If the potion worked, Neville would be a hero to the wizarding world.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he left the dormitory to head to Ron's room.

* * *

Harry rapped softly on Ron's door, which was glowing faintly blue.

'Who is it?' came Ron's muffled voice.

'It's us,' said Harry, clutching Ginny's hand. He heard the door click and swing open, and he and Ginny hurried into Ron's room; the door quickly shut and locked behind them.

'Hey,' said Ron, who was standing by the bed, pacing. Hermione was sitting on the bed, leaning up against the wall, her back against several pillows.

'Are you two okay?' said Harry, as he took his usual position in Ron's desk chair; Ginny joined Hermione on the bed.

'Anthony Goldstein's gone,' said Hermione fretfully; she was worrying her hands so much they looked raw.

'What do you mean, gone?' Ginny asked.

'He's missing,' said Ron heavily. 'He disappeared yesterday morning.'

Harry swallowed.

'Anthony's--'

'Muggle-born,' said Ron. 'Yeah.'

'Shit,' said Harry. 'And his parents?'

'Nothing happened to them,' said Hermione. 'They were at work. Anthony told them he was meeting some friends in Diagon Alley. He never came home.'

'Maybe...maybe...' Harry's voice trailed off and he groaned. There wasn't even any point in trying to come up with an alternative explanation for Anthony's disappearance.

'Michael Corner's the seventh year prefect for Ravenclaw,' said Ron. 'Until Anthony comes back. Which nobody believes he will.'

'I spoke to Hopkirk after the meeting,' said Hermione. 'Remember what we talked about, a while ago, Harry? About how your blood is slowly poisoning him?'

Ginny gave a small gasp.

'Voldemort wants Anthony's blood, doesn't he?' said Harry, screwing up his face in horror.

'I don't see what else it could be,' said Hermione tightly. 'The non-human blood must not be working for him anymore. That must mean he's weaker. And...and now we know why Death Eaters came after me, and my parents.'

'Jesus,' Harry murmured. 'They wanted your blood, too.'

Ron made an ugly noise in his throat and sat down next to Hermione, taking her hand.

'And Ron's,' she said. 'Torturing my parents was just...icing on the cake.'

Harry swallowed. 'I'm so sorry, Hermione.'

'It's not your fault, Harry,' she said. 'I've been thinking. Voldemort must be in worse shape than we thought.'

'What makes you say that?' said Harry.

'The fact that he went for us first,' said Hermione. 'And so quickly. Why did they attack so fast? They could have waited a day, my parents would have gone to work, just like Anthony's. Ron and I would have left the house, gone into Muggle London. Even if we had half a dozen Aurors watching us, it would have easier to snatch us off the street than penetrating all the wards around my parents house and breaking in. The Death Eaters could have created some kind of...mass confusion and snatched us without anyone even knowing until it was too late. Instead they go after us in a protected space that they don't know all that well.'

'And the attack itself,' said Ron. 'It was sloppy. Apparating inside? How obvious is that? Any witch or wizard knows what that sounds like. And the fact that I didn't see it...well, okay, that was my fault because I didn't meditate but then again, maybe I could have meditated and I still wouldn't have seen it, because the attack was so last minute. Like it was thrown together.'

'There's another thing,' said Hermione. 'There was a fifth Auror there. Ron broke his leg, but he got out. If he Apparated, he couldn't have gone very far, and there's no way Helene Rosier or Rodolphus Lestrange could help him.'

'So?' said Harry.

'There was no Plan B,' said Ron. 'I've seen this Rosier woman operate, and Lestrange. They do things neatly. This was messy. It's not like them.'

'Ergo, this was a last minute plan,' said Hermione. 'Voldemort gets the news from his spy that Ron and I are going to a Muggle area. He goes after us for two reasons: to get our blood, and to draw you out. He uses our blood in a potion or a spell or something, to give himself enough strength to fight you. He kills us, and you go after him in a fit of grief or rage and...'

'...he kills me,' said Harry. 'Or I let myself be killed because I'm so miserable that my friends are dead.'

'That's basically it,' said Ron.

'It didn't work, obviously,' said Hermione.

Harry suddenly remembered something. 'My scar,' he said. 'I've always felt something in the past, when he's angry. But this time...nothing.'

'There you go,' said Hermione. 'Voldemort is weak. So...he decides to come up with Plan B. Going after you at Christmas was a...a crime of opportunity. None of us were in the safety of Hogwarts and he took a chance. It didn't work. Now we're back at Hogwarts. He's weaker, but he figures he's got some time before you two meet up again, so he go about a safer, more conservative plan.'

'And he started by having Anthony taken,' said Ginny. 'He'll pick off Muggles and Muggle-borns one by one.'

'It's not just Muggle-borns,' said Ron.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked.

'Pansy's missing, too,' said Hermione.

At this, Harry's jaw dropped.

'What?' he and Ginny said together.

'She went missing yesterday, too,' said Ron. 'She left home yesterday morning, according to her parents, and never came back. Blaise's family and hers are neighbors. That's how he knew.'

'Dear god,' said Ginny. 'Draco...that's what he meant when he said he was all alone now.'

'You talked to Malfoy?' said Ron.

'Yes, earlier,' said Ginny. 'And no, he didn't try anything. But...that explains a lot. He's really bad off, Ron. This has to be why.'

'For all we know Draco could be behind Pansy's disappearance,' said Ron scornfully.

'I told Ron, Malfoy can't lie to me,' said Ginny. 'I would have known if he'd done something like that.'

'But, wait,' said Harry, 'I thought Malfoy went to spend the holidays with Pansy. So how is it she's missing and he's here?'

'Unless he left the Parkinson house early for some reason,' said Hermione.

'There's only one way to find out,' said Ginny.

'What, now?' said Harry.

'Now,' she said.

* * *

'This is mad,' said Ron. 'We're out after curfew--'

'Like that ever stopped you before,' said Ginny.

'--and we don't even know where he'd go,' said Ron grumpily.

The four of them had donned school robes. Ron and Hermione made sure to prominently display their Head Boy and Girl badges and gave the pretext of patrolling and escorting Harry and Ginny around. Most of the Aurors still weren't back from holiday, and wouldn't be back until tomorrow.

'I know where he'd go,' said Ginny confidently, and she led them up a familiar corridor, and up several flights of stairs and a few ladders.

'Bloody hell,' Ron grunted, as they reached the top of the North Tower. 'The old Divination classroom?'

'Shh,' Ginny hissed, as they stopped outside the door to the old, familiar classroom. Harry was certain he could still detect the faint hint of incense wafting from beneath the door.

Ginny extracted her wand and whispered, 'Alohomora,' and the door clicked open.

At once, a familiar blond figure whirled round in a swirl of fine black robes.

'What the hell?' Draco Malfoy muttered, as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all pushed their way into the room.

'Good evening, Draco,' said Ginny evenly. 'We have to ask you a few questions.'

Draco scowled. 'I'm not talking to any of you.'

Ron advanced at once. 'You can talk to us standing up, and of your own free will, or I swear I'll force Veritaserum down your throat.'

Draco sneered at Ron, but his eyes were nervous, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He realized he was greatly outnumbered, and stepped back.

'Fine,' he said, defeated. 'What do you want?'

'Where's Pansy?' Harry asked.

Draco looked at him incredulously. 'What do you mean, where's Pansy?'

'She's gone missing,' said Hermione. 'Do you know where she is?'

'Of course I don't know where she is!' Draco snarled.

'Bollocks,' said Harry, 'you were with her over the Christmas holiday.'

'Yeah, for part of it,' said Draco defensively.

'And what about the rest?' said Ron, towering over him. 'Did you spend a little time with some of your old Death Eater mates, maybe?'

'You're full of shit, Weasley,' said Draco. 'I don't run with that crowd anymore, remember? They sort of tried to kill me a couple of times and I'm a bit soured on their company.'

'It's a little convenient, though, isn't it,' said Hermione, 'that you spend the holiday with Pansy and she winds up missing and you don't.'

'What's it to you, Mudblood?' Draco snapped.

Ron raised his wand and pointed it at Draco's throat.

'Say that one more time and I swear--'

'Ron, ease off,' said Harry. 'Draco, answer the question. Where's Pansy?'

'I don't bloody know where Pansy is!' Draco screamed, and he shoved Ron's wand hand away. 'Okay? For your information, I left her house two days after Christmas, and I came back here, and I've been here ever since. If you don't believe me you can ask Snape, and Filch, and Peeves and the Bloody fucking Baron--'

'Why'd you leave?' Ginny interrupted. 'And keep your voice down.'

Draco stared at her for a long moment, with a mixture of hatred and yearning.

'Sorry,' he said, his voice sounding chastened.

Harry swallowed his revulsion; it looked, indeed, as if Ginny was the only person Draco could or would respond to in any productive manner.

'It's okay,' said Ginny, fighting to keep her voice even. The tension was flowing off her skin; Harry knew she was trying not to show any sign that she was unnerved by Draco's attention to her. 'Just tell us what happened,' she added.

'We had a fight,' Draco said, his voice a bit shaky. 'A really bad one. I left.'

'That's it?' said Ginny.

'I'm not going to tell you what we said,' said Draco, some of his old arrogance creeping back into his voice.

'I wasn't asking you to,' said Ginny. 'That was the last time you saw her?'

'Yes,' said Draco, but then he looked away.

'You're not telling us everything,' said Ginny, her voice gentle; Harry, Ron and Hermione had moved behind her, watching as she carefully dealt with Draco.

'I was supposed to meet her yesterday,' he said. 'She wrote to me. She said she was sorry and...and could we meet in Diagon Alley and talk it over.'

'She wrote to you?' said Ginny.

'Yes,' said Draco, and then his pale face actually look stricken. 'Shit...her letter.'

'You wrote back to her?' said Ginny. 'You said you'd meet her?'

'That's just it,' said Draco. 'I wrote back and told her I wouldn't. I was so..._pissed off_ at her for everything. I didn't want to see her. But she went to Diagon Alley anyway.'

Ginny scrutinized him for a moment, and Draco seemed to shrink, just slightly.

'He's telling the truth,' she said.

Hermione let out a sigh. 'Pansy's letter must have been intercepted before it got to you, Malfoy. Whoever took her knew she planned to meet you.'

'You think so?' said Draco sarcastically. Hermione ignored him and continued.

'And your letter never reached her at all,' she said. 'At least, it looks that way. So she went to Diagon Alley expecting to meet you and...she disappeared.'

'Why?' said Harry. 'Why would anyone take Pansy?'

'To get back at me, I'm sure,' said Draco savagely. 'And to force her parents to join up, probably. She warned me I shouldn't go to her parents' house. They're on the wrong side, she said. It wouldn't do to have me in the house. Just in case one of them showed up for tea.'

'Death Eaters came to the Parkinsons' house?' said Hermione.

'No,' said Draco. 'But they could have. That's what it's like for pure-blood families who don't join the cause.'

'Funny, but the Death Eaters haven't stopped by my parent's house for tea,' said Ron.

'You know what I mean, Weasley,' said Draco contemptuously. 'I'm talking about pure-blood families who don't take sides. Or try not to. Your family obviously doesn't qualify. But her family does. They don't care what happens to Mud--to Muggle-borns, but they don't feel like worshipping the Dark Lord, either. It's all about _keeping up appearances_.'

Draco kicked at a pillow on the floor and ran a hand through his hair, which was as messy and stringy as Harry had ever seen it.

'It's my fault,' he muttered. 'I shouldn't have gone home with her, I pressured her into it...'

'I'm sure she'll be okay,' said Hermione gently, but this apparently was the wrong thing to say, because Draco looked up at her with such naked hatred, it made Harry's blood go cold.

'What the fuck do you care, Granger?' he hissed. 'You've always hated her. Now you're going to pretend to be all concerned because she's probably lying in an alley somewhere, dead? As if it matters to you. As if _she _matters to you!'

'She's a human being, Malfoy, of course she matters,' Hermione protested.

'Aren't we all?' Draco snarled, and he stormed right up to Hermione. Ron tried to intervene but Draco gave him a brutal shove that he wasn't expecting; Ron stumbled back slightly and Draco took out his wand.

'You're all a lot of hypocrites,' he hissed. 'The only reason you give a shit about Pansy right now is because of how it might affect your precious Harry Potter. Potter's got to save the world, who cares about some Slytherin girl you lot never liked.'

'Give it a rest, Malfoy--' Ron began.

'No, you give it a rest!' Draco bellowed. 'You don't know even half of what it means to live with him hanging over you! Oh, sure, big bad Voldemort's out to get Potter, poor bloody Potter, the sad orphan Boy Who Lived! At least you had a choice!'

Harry stared at Draco in horror as tears began to run down the blond boy's face.

'You have the luxury of choosing sides, of knowing where you stand! You have the luxury of having families who won't sell you out to score suck-up points to their lord and master. You have the luxury of being self-righteous and pure! I don't, I've never had that! And you act like you know everything? Like you care about what happens to people like me? To people like Pansy? Fuck all of you! She's gone, do you understand? I have nothing and nobody! You have everything and I have nothing, and fuck all of you for pretending to give a shit!'

He shoved his way through the four of them and ran from the room; Harry heard his retreating footsteps and angry sobs fading in the distance.

'Jesus,' Ron muttered.

Ginny looked stricken.

'He's not lying, is he?' said Harry.

'No, he's not,' said Ginny sadly.

'Don't tell me you feel sorry for him,' said Ron.

'Of course I feel sorry for him,' said Ginny. 'And so do you, if you'd only admit it.'

'I don't,' said Ron, sounding disgusted. A moment passed, and then he shrugged and scowled. 'Okay, I do. A little. But don't tell anyone.'

'Harry?'

'Yeah,' said Harry reluctantly. 'I feel sorry for him. Even if he's always making it all about him. Did you notice that? He's more upset about how this affects him than what it means for Pansy.'

'That's how he is,' said Ginny, letting out a breath.

'I suppose this means Pansy isn't the spy,' said Hermione. 'Not that I ever believed she was, but...'

'Do you think Voldemort would...would use her...for her blood?' said Harry, shuddering for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

'Why not?' said Hermione darkly. 'I can't imagine they'd take her simply to get back at Draco and her parents.'

'He's right,' said Ginny. 'Draco, I mean. We don't know what it's like, being like them. The pureblood families caught in the middle.'

'They wouldn't be caught in the middle if they'd choose the right side,' Ron pointed out.

'Sometimes it's not that simple,' said Hermione, but she didn't sound that convinced.

'It is that simple,' said Harry. 'Your parents didn't choose to get involved, Hermione, but...they fought back, didn't they?'

Hermione looked at him sadly. 'Yes, they did.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry, 'I shouldn't have said that.'

'It's okay,' she whispered. 'You're right. Both of you are right.' She looked at Ron and smiled at him weakly. And suddenly she put her arms round Ron, and then Harry, and finally Ginny, and before Harry knew it, the four of them were in an awkward embrace.

Harry's first instinct was to run; a part of him was still uncomfortable with this kind of thing, this sheer physical act of affection. But suddenly all of them felt Ginny's emotions move through them like a gentle but insistent current, and Harry realized he didn't want to move. This, he realized, was the true safe place. It wasn't a room or a building. It was his friends.

They stayed that way for a long time.

* * *

**A/N: Confused yet?**


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven: Tactile Sight and ...

**A/N: This chapter contains some sexual content.**

_Chapter Thirty-Seven: Tactile Sight and Career Counseling_

'I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.'

The familiar sound of Professor McGonagall's voice caused Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny to disentangle from their group embrace.

McGonagall was wearing her old tartan dressing gown and carrying a guttering lantern in her left hand.

Ron flushed to the roots of his hair.

'Er...' he said stupidly. Harry bit his lip.

'I know,' said Professor McGonagall imperiously, 'there is a very good explanation for what the four of you are doing out of bed after hours.'

'It's my fault, Professor,' said Hermione at once. 'I...I was just trying to...figure out something for a homework assignment--'

McGonagall held up her hand.

'As much as I'm sure your friends appreciate you trying to take responsibility, Miss Granger,' she said, 'I've told you: I know why you are out of bed. I was just on my way to Gryffindor Tower to fetch Mr. Weasley when I bumped into Mr. Malfoy, who was trying to sneak back downstairs to the Slytherin dormitory.'

Harry and the others froze; he could only imagine what Ferret Boy had told the Headmistress.

'He was quite upset,' said McGonagall. 'He immediately told me he'd just seen the four of you. He said something about an interrogation.'

'We just wanted to ask him a few questions,' said Harry at once. 'We didn't hurt him or anything, I swear.'

McGonagall looked at him through narrowed eyes. 'Whatever questions you asked left him very agitated.'

'We just wanted to know--' Ron began.

'Who the spy is, yes,' said McGonagall. 'I've spoken with Remus Lupin all about this, and while I appreciate your concerted efforts to locate the person or persons who might be undermining our efforts, that does not give you the right to be out of bed past curfew without an Auror guard.'

The four of them started to protest at once, and McGonagall once again held up a hand. They all went quiet.

'As I said,' she continued, 'I was looking specifically for Mr. Weasley. Professor Firenze wants to see you.'

Ron blinked. 'Now?'

'Yes, now,' said McGonagall. 'I realize it's late, but time is of the essence. Two students are missing, and Professor Firenze believes you might be able to help us find them.'

Ron swallowed and looked down at his feet. 'No offense, Professor, but even with all my meditating I didn't see their disappearances coming. What makes Firenze--I mean, Professor Firenze so sure I can help?'

'He doesn't know you can,' said McGonagall bluntly. 'But he believes it's worth trying.'

'What does he want me to do?'

'That is for you and Professor Firenze to discuss,' said McGonagall. 'You're to report to him right away; you'll be excused from your morning lessons tomorrow. The rest of you will come with me; I'm escorting you back to your room, Miss Granger, and to Gryffindor Tower.'

'Professor, wait,' said Ron. 'What about...what about Fred and George? Their store?'

'Taken care of, Mr. Weasley,' said McGonagall. 'Aurors did a complete sweep of the premises and found no explosive devices. Two have been assigned to make daily sweeps each morning before the shop opens.'

Ron let out a sigh of relief.

'Thanks,' he said weakly. 'And Fred and George--'

'Are fine,' said McGonagall. 'As are Mr. Jordan and Ms. Spinnet. Now, we really must get you to Professor Firenze.'

* * *

Ron entered the Divination classroom warily. He was exhausted and wanted only to go to sleep, but a fresh wave of unease hit him when he thought about Anthony and Pansy.

'Mr. Weasley.'

Ron turned to see Firenze walking toward him. The centaur, too, looked exhausted.

'Thank you for coming,' he said. 'I realize it's very late and you are probably very fatigued.'

'It's okay,' said Ron. 'Er, I'm not sure what I can do to help. I didn't see--'

'I know,' said Firenze. 'I hope you are not feeling guilty for not seeing the abductions of the two students, Mr. Goldstein and Miss Parkinson.'

'A Seer can't see everything,' said Ron, wishing he could believe it.

'No,' said Firenze, 'but that doesn't mean you cannot be of some assistance now. I hadn't meant to start on this part of your training for another few weeks, but under the circumstances...'

His voice trailed off, and he turned and headed into the glade. Ron followed, and sat down on one of the large logs; Firenze had already lit a fire. Ron fought the urge to yawn, but then he noticed that the fire was not the usual incense-laden flames; rather, the only smells that came from the fire were that of burning wood and smoke.

Firenze leaned over a wooden table and picked something up from it; he turned back to Ron and held it up.

It was a navy blue t-shirt.

'This, according to Miss Padma Patil, belongs to Mr. Goldstein,' said Firenze. 'It is apparently a favorite garment of his. He was wearing it on the day he disappeared.'

Ron gaped at the shirt, and then at Firenze.

'How did you get it?' he asked, feeling a sinking in the pit of his stomach.

'It was in Miss Patil's possession,' said Firenze. 'She spoke with the Headmistress, who passed the shirt, and other information, along to me.

'It seems Miss Patil was to meet Mr. Goldstein in Diagon Alley on the day he disappeared. Something came up at home, she said, and she was late. When she arrived at their chosen meeting place--an ice cream parlor--she said he was late. She waited for nearly a half hour, and then gave up and returned home. An hour after that, Mr. Goldstein's shirt was sent to her in a package, via owl. There was no note.'

Firenze held the shirt out to Ron. 'Take it,' he said. Ron didn't move; he was horrified at the idea of touching it.

'Take it,' Firenze repeated, his voice harder.

Ron took the shirt in his hand, and he shuddered as an image of Anthony, smiling and laughing, burst into his mind.

_He can't be smiling and laughing now._

'What am I to do with this?' he asked.

'Smell it,' said Firenze.

Ron wrinkled his nose. 'Smell it?'

Firenze nodded. 'Try to memorize the scents, the odors on the garment.'

Ron grimaced; he really didn't fancy inhaling some bloke's t-shirt, but he did as he was told, and put the shirt near his nose.

'What do you smell?' Firenze asked.

'Grass,' said Ron. 'After a rainstorm.'

'Anything else?'

Ron gave the shirt another sniff. He wrinkled his nose again.

'Smoke?' he said, and sniffed again to be sure.

'Miss Patil mentioned that Mr. Goldstein occasionally smoked cigarettes.'

'Really?' said Ron, surprised, but then, why should he be? It wasn't as if Ron knew Anthony all that well.

'Do you detect anything else?' Firenze asked.

Ron sniffed the shirt yet again. 'Something faint,' he said. 'Mint, I think. And...something feminine. Like...' He paused and sniffed it again. 'Jasmine?'

'Yes,' said Firenze. 'I believe Mr. Goldstein gifted Miss Patil with that shirt, and it has since taken on a bit of her scent. You'd do best not to focus on that last scent.'

'Okay,' said Ron, and he pushed the scent of jasmine from his mind.

'Good,' said Firenze. 'I want you to commit those smells to your memory right now. Close your eyes, and lower the shirt.'

Ron obeyed.

'Can you remember the scents?'

'Yeah,' said Ron.

'Can you imagine what Mr. Goldstein looked like in this shirt?'

'Yeah.'

'Good,' said Firenze. 'I want you to meditate now. You will sit in the usual position, and hold the shirt in both hands across your lap. Concentrate on the scents of the shirt first, and let them open your mind.'

Ron opened his eyes long enough to sit cross-legged on the floor. He swallowed and draped Anthony's t-shirt across his lap, clutching the ends of it in both hands.

'Close your eyes,' said Firenze again. 'Begin when you're ready.'

Ron took a deep breath. He smelled wet grass, smoke, mint. He rolled the scents over in his mind. Grass, smoke, mint. Grass, smoke, mint...

From somewhere distant, he heard Firenze's voice, low and gentle.

'Feel the material of the shirt in your hands,' he said.

Ron clenched and unclenched his fists around the ends of the shirt, running his fingers over the cotton, which was thin and a bit frayed around the neck, and stretched out at the waist.

'Imagine Mr. Goldstein wearing the shirt,' said Firenze. His voice was even softer, even further away now...

_Another image of Anthony appeared in his mind. He was sitting at an outdoor table at Fortescue's ice cream shoppe; his left knee was jostling up and down, as though he were anxious about something, and yet the look on his face was relaxed as he watched people passing by. He glanced at his watch, and frowned, but didn't appear to be too concerned. Instead, he got up, and headed for the men's room. He passed through the swinging door, and there was a flash of light and an anguished cry..._

Ron gasped and collapsed onto his side, letting go of the shirt.

'What is it?' Firenze asked urgently. 'What did you see?'

Ron was breathing hard; his hands were tingling, and he realized he was sweating. He hadn't felt this worn out by a vision since he first started training.

'I saw Anthony,' Ron said, trying to catch his breath. 'He was at Fortescue's--that's the ice cream shoppe. I think he was waiting for Padma. He got up to use the loo and...he went through the swinging door and there was a flash...I think he cried out...that's all I saw.'

Firenze let out a breath and nodded. 'It appears you witnessed where Mr. Goldstein was taken.'

'From the men's room,' Ron said.

'Are you quite all right, Ronald?'

'No,' said Ron, struggling to sit up. 'Why...why am I so worn from that? I hardly saw anything and I feel like sh--I mean, I feel terrible.'

'You are unaccustomed to the strain of tactile sight,' said Firenze.

'Of what?' said Ron.

'Tactile Sight,' said Firenze. 'Literally, touch-sight. It is a higher branch of meditation, in which the Seer uses an object to channel his energies toward a specific goal. In this case, to locate Mr. Goldstein. By placing your hands on something he owns and has touched--something apparently quite special to him--and by focusing on the way that item smells and feels, you are focusing your entire mental and physical energies on locating him. The mental focus of this kind of meditation is far more draining than the sort you've been using up to now.'

'I get it,' said Ron, wiping sweat from his brow.

'Tactile Seeing is also far more useful,' said Firenze. 'It allows you to unclutter your brain and use your gifts in a very specific way.'

'Why am I only learning this now?' Ron asked, a bit put out. If this was indeed a more useful way to apply his skills, why hadn't he learned it sooner?

'Because it is only now that I believe you are strong enough to handle the physical and mental demands of such an exercise,' said Firenze. 'Indeed, I would not have introduced this training to you at all had you shown less overall skill in Seeing. Tactile seeing is a very special brand of Second Sight; not all Seers--even talented ones--are able to use it. You, however, have just shown me that you have the potential to tap into this skill. If you can learn to make full use of Tactile Sight, you will be among the most powerful Seers alive.'

Ron gulped. For some reason, the idea of being one of the most powerful Seers alive didn't appeal to him in the least.

_Don't be daft. If you can focus your skills, you can help find Anthony. And Pansy, too. And maybe this is a way to get around Voldemort's attempts to divert you._

_It's a hell of a lot of responsibility. And I feel like shit! It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't feel like I just got run over by a lorry._

'Ronald?' said Firenze, eyeing him with concern.

'Sorry,' said Ron. 'I was just thinking.'

'You do not appear to be enthused about learning that you might be more powerful than I originally envisioned.'

'I just...wish it didn't leave me feeling so used up,' Ron admitted.

'That will get better in time,' said Firenze. 'When you meditate in the general sense, you no longer feel drained, do you?'

'No,' said Ron, 'not generally.'

'So shall it be with Tactile Sight,' said Firenze. 'It is time for you to learn this skill.'

Ron nodded, and suddenly something occurred to him.

'Er, you're not going to make me quit Quidditch and...and other stuff again, are you?' he asked nervously.

'No,' said Firenze, smiling knowingly. 'It appears that in your case, such diversions might indeed be best left undisturbed, as they allow you to escape your everyday mental pressures.'

* * *

When Ron fell into bed, it was past two o'clock in the morning. He had made two more attempts at Tactile Sight, using Anthony's shirt and a music box that belonged to Pansy. Draco had managed to get Millicent to fetch the box, on Professor McGonagall's orders, after she had marched him back to the Slytherin dungeon. The music box was a grotesque, frilly, light pink thing that featured a tiny, spinning ballerina on the inside. It was one of Pansy's most prized possessions.

Ron had written down all he had seen in the impromptu training session, starting with Anthony waiting for Padma at Fortescue's, to him entering the men's room. The second attempt with Tactile Sight and Anthony's shirt had been more disturbing; Ron had seen Anthony's limp, unconscious form draped over the massive shoulders of a black-robed Death Eater. The vision was brief and vague; all Ron saw was the Death Eater enter a dark, dungeon-like room and dump Anthony like a heavy sack of grain onto the stone floor; Anthony gave a low moan but didn't stir. The vision had left Ron utterly exhausted and it had taken him several minutes to recover. Firenze offered to let him rest for the night, but Ron demurred. One more go, he insisted, and this time he'd try to find something useful about Pansy.

Except that touching Pansy's ugly music box had revealed very little. It showed her pacing about in front of a rather dodgy looking store, repeatedly checking her watch. The store looked familiar, but Ron couldn't place it, and yet he knew that store could not be in Diagon Alley. The only street in wizarding London that looked that sketchy was Knockturn Alley, which begged the question of what Pansy was doing there in the first place, or why she and Draco would meet there, if neither of them were working for the dark powers. Honest wizards and witches avoided Knockturn Alley like the plague. And yet there was Pansy, pacing about, waiting for Draco, ignoring the furtive, sinister glances of the darkly clad wizards and witches who skulked up and down the street.

The last thing Ron saw was Pansy enter the shop, throwing up her hands in apparent frustration as she did so. Again, the vision had only lasted a mere minute, but it had left Ron entirely drained.

As he fell asleep, visions of Pansy and Anthony invading his mind, Ron said a silent murmur of thanks to Firenze for, at the very least, letting him miss the morning lessons.

* * *

Ron awoke at just before lunchtime, feeling refreshed. His dreams had all been surprisingly pleasant. Perhaps it was that Ron was so exhausted that his mind couldn't work up the energy to produce nasty dreams; perhaps it was the relief at knowing that Fred and George's shop had been secured, and that Ron had managed to once again thwart Voldemort's intended plans. In any case, he made a mental note to file away the dream of him and Hermione shagging up against the Restricted Section shelves in the library. Maybe he could suggest that one to her...

_Are you mad? She'd never go for it. She'd think it was disrespectful of the books._

_Oh, yeah. Well, it's a nice fantasy, anyway._

Ron showered and dressed quickly, glancing only once at the t-shirt and the music box on his dresser, given to him by Firenze. Ron debated meditating with them before his afternoon lesson, but decided against it. Firenze had given him strict orders not to overdo on the Tactile Sight training. Ron did, however, decide to meditate, in the general way, before lunch; he learned nothing useful from the visions he did see, which were numerous and seemed to concern only Muggles.

He went to the Great Hall feeling famished; as he sat down he saw Harry, Hermione and Ginny enter the room. Hermione hurried and sat down next to him.

'Are you okay?' she asked at once.

'Fine,' said Ron, and for once he meant it.

'What did Firenze want?' Ginny asked.

'I'll tell you after lunch,' said Ron, in a low voice. 'Can't talk about it now.'

They ate their meal in relative silence, for which Ron was grateful, even if the overall mood of the Hall was somber, owing to the disappearance of two students. After the meal, Ron and the others retreated to his room. Ron told them of the new aspect of his training, and about what he'd seen already regarding both Anthony and Pansy.

'If she was in Knockturn Alley,' said Harry, referring to Pansy, 'it can't be for any good reason. Maybe this whole disappearance thing is a feint.'

'You mean she faked her abduction?' said Hermione.

'Why not?' said Harry. 'If she's the spy, she could be trying to throw us off the scent.'

Hermione considered. 'That's possible. I'm still having a very hard time imagining her working for the Death Eaters, though, especially in some kind of covert fashion. She just doesn't seem clever enough.'

'That could be a feint, too,' Ron suggested. 'Pretending to be stupider than she is so she gets away with stuff. I'll know more when I try to meditate again later.'

Hermione, meanwhile, talked of an early morning meeting she'd had with Professor Hopkirk.

'We're going to start working on the potion this week,' she said. 'The Spiketails need a bit more time for their tails to fully mature before we can collect diamond dust.'

'I'll try to get more out of Malfoy,' said Ginny. 'See if he suspects Pansy might be faking us out.'

'I'll take Nott,' said Harry. 'Oh yeah, and clingfoil? It's plastic wrap.'

'Hang on,' said Ron. 'Plastic wrap? Are you serious?'

'I was just going to say that,' said Hermione, shaking her head. 'I was so tired last night when we talked about it that it didn't even register. Which is of course absurd, my mum always used clingfoil for leftovers.' She stopped abruptly, and pursed her lips, looking down at her hands. For a moment nobody said anything; Hermione took a deep breath and looked up; she was clearly trying not to think too hard about her parents, and wherever they were now hiding.

'Are you sure Aberforth heard Nott correctly?' she asked.

'Dunno,' said Harry. 'I mean--'

'What would Nott want with plastic wrap?' Ron finished.

'Could it be a code of some sort?' said Ginny.

'If it's a code it's the strangest one I've ever heard of,' said Hermione. 'I'll see if I can find anything about it in the library. Maybe some wizard somewhere came up with a deadly use for plastic wrap.'

The suggestion was, of course, absurd, and they all laughed the moment Hermione made it, but it was telling to Ron that deep down, they all believed it could be possible. In times like this, anything was possible.

* * *

Ron was as good as his word; he meditated after dinner using both Anthony's shirt and Pansy's music box. Nobody else but Harry, Ginny, Hermione and the few teachers--McGonagall, Snape and Firenze--knew what Ron was up to. As far as the school was concerned, the Ministry was conducting a search for the missing students, and the rumor floated about that Firenze was 'consulting the planets and the stars' for assistance in locating Anthony and Pansy.

Ron's meditations exhausted him; it didn't help that Transfiguration had focused on more and more complex Glamour Charms, which always left Ron feeling sore and out of sorts. Jumping right into such complex work was hardly the sort of way Ron had wanted to start the term, but he worked hard in the lesson all the same. The closer the end of the year loomed, the more Ron realized the time for deciding upon a career, and taking the practical steps necessary to get the job he wanted, was close at hand.

It was frightening, actually, to realize that what had seemed like such a distant future--him securing a job, a career, living on his own--was only months away. Career Counseling sessions for the seventh years would begin this week; Ron knew he wanted to apply to the Auror training program, but he dreaded to even think about what the application process entailed.

In the meantime, he had work to do. He took Anthony's shirt and cast a small magical fire; he repeated the steps Firenze had showed him, and quickly fell into a kind of trance.

_He was back in the dark, dungeon-like room. Anthony lay there, still as a corpse, but small moans issued from him, and after what seemed like an eternity, he rolled over painfully onto his back. Blood, dirt and tears streaked his face; his nose was bent at an odd angle; it was broken. Ron heard a wince, and realized he had made it. It was impossible to know how long Anthony had been inside that dark, dank room, when suddenly the door swung open with a heavy clang._

_Two hooded, robed figures entered the room._

'C'est lui?' _said a familiar voice. (1)_

_Helene Rosier..._

'Oui,' _said another familiar voice, that of Rodolphus Lestrange._

'Il est un désordre. Nous ne pouvons pas vraiment le présenter au seigneur foncé dans cet état,' _said Helene Rosier irritably. (2)_

_Lestrange snorted derisively._ 'C'est Macnair, il outrepasse toujours ses limites, dégrossissage les prisonniers en dépit des instructions claires--' (3)

'Assez,' _said Helene Rosier sharply, holding up a hand_. 'Nous traiterons Macnair plus tard. Maintenant nous devons guérir celui-ci et se prepare pour donner notre seigneur le sien...services.' (4)

_Anthony moaned again and opened his eyes, both of which were blackened and almost swollen shut; all that could be seen of his irises were dark slits. His body stiffened and he mumbled something, but then gave a groan of pain; his jaw was broken._

'Macnair,' _Lestrange grumbled, and he pointed his wand at Anthony, who tried to squirm hopelessly away. There was a flash of light..._

Ron opened his eyes; he was on his back, on the floor, clutching the t-shirt in his hands. As before, he was breathless and sweating.

It took him five minutes to recover from the vision, which was longer and more detailed than any he'd had so far. With no small amount of frustration he realized that he didn't understand a word of the conversation between Rosier and Lestrange, although he was sure he heard Macnair's name mentioned. Was he, then, the Death Eater who had carried Anthony into the dungeon? Ron couldn't remember any other Death Eater who was quite so large and burly as Macnair, and given Macnair's chilling enthusiasm for committing murder, Ron wouldn't be surprised if Macnair was the one who had worked Anthony over so badly.

Ron winced as he sat up; he knew the best thing to do with this memory was to put it in his Pensieve, which he'd stored over the holidays in the locked file drawer on his desk. Hermione could help him translate the conversation he'd heard, and perhaps now that Ron was using more focused, concentrated Seeing, the Pensieve would be an even bigger help to him than it had already been.

He took out his journal--he was now on his third--and quickly scrawled out the details of the vision, wishing he'd been able to see some clue as to where Anthony was. He also realized he had no way of knowing whether he was seeing future events or not. The visions he'd had of Anthony being taken were clearly in the past--two days past. But this vision could be occurring in 'real time', or it might have already happened, or perhaps it was going to happen soon. Ron simply couldn't tell.

After writing down the vision, he performed the Memory Extraction Charm and let the silver strand float into the Pensieve, where it rippled the liquid inside.

Ron then picked up Pansy's music box, and prepared to meditate again.

* * *

At just past eleven o'clock, they were back in his room again. Harry and Ginny were using the Invisibility Cloak again, owing to the return of all the Aurors, who were now patrolling the castle thickly, and in shifts. Hermione had been by earlier in the evening, to look at Ron's vision of Anthony in the Pensieve, and had rather handily translated the French spoken by Rodolphus Lestrange and Helene Rosier, but Ron was disgruntled to learn that it told them nothing about where Anthony was being held.

The only other thing Ron had learned in the interim was that Pansy, after going into the dodgy looking shop in Knockturn Alley, had gone to the fireplace and scooped out some Floo Powder from a jar; she threw it into the flames, and was about to shout out a location, when there was a blinding flash of white light and Ron saw no more.

Hermione opened her school bag as she, Ron and Ginny sat on Ron's bed, and Harry sat in Ron's desk chair.

'Well,' she said, 'I can honestly say that my time in the library this evening was the weirdest I've ever spent; Madam Pince must have thought I was out of my mind, trying to find references to the use of plastic wrap in dark magic.' She dumped a pile of books onto Ron's bed.

'Did you find anything?' Ron asked.

'There was one thing, actually. In the 1970s there was an insane wizard called Mobius Mayberry who murdered his entire family by smothering them with plastic wrap in their sleep,' said Hermione. 'Apparently he charmed the plastic wrap to cover the faces of his victims in some sort of airtight seal so they all suffocated.'

Harry screwed up his face in distaste. 'Yuck,' he said. Ron nodded his agreement; he knew there were worse ways to die, but having been nearly strangled to death himself by Dolohov in the battle at the Riddle House, Ron had a special horror for death by suffocation. The panic one felt due to a lack of air...he shuddered.

'Anything else?' Ginny asked.

'Nothing,' said Hermione.

'So...assuming Aberforth did in fact hear what Nott said correctly,' said Harry, looking dubious, 'Nott appears interested in getting a hold of some cellophane.' He paused. 'Does this sound completely absurd to anyone else?'

Ron and Ginny raised their hands.

Hermione's hand stayed down.

'You don't think this is absurd?' said Harry.

'Well,' said Hermione, 'it is strange, but I don't think we can rule anything out at this point, can we?'

'What if it was a code?' said Ron. 'What would "clingfoil" be a code for?'

'That's the next thing I'm looking into,' said Hermione.

There was general agreement, before the subject turned to Anthony and Padma.

'I still can't figure out where Anthony is,' said Ron glumly. 'I only know he got roughed up by Macnair and Helene Rosier and Rodolphus Lestrange were going to try and heal him. Hermione translated what they said.'

'Why would they heal him?' said Harry.

'To make him stronger so he could better give them blood,' said Hermione, shuddering. 'At least, that's what it looked like to me, based on their conversation.'

Ron clenched his fists. 'The worst part is, I don't know if this stuff is going on right now or it's already happened, or if it's in the future. And I can't meditate too often because it's so draining. I don't even know if...if Anthony's still alive.'

Nobody said a word for a moment, but then Hermione spoke.

'He must be,' she said, with a fair bit of conviction. 'If Voldemort is really weakening and needs blood, he wouldn't just...use up Anthony's right away. He'd want to keep Anthony alive so...so he could have a steady supply.'

It was Ron's turn to shudder.

Ginny quickly changed the subject. 'I talked to Malfoy today,' she said. 'He's positive Pansy isn't faking us out. When Malfoy was in with the Death Eaters, Pansy wouldn't join up because her parents didn't want her to get involved. That's the thing: Pansy's parents have a lot of money but they're not powerful like the Blacks were, or the Lestranges or the Malfoys. They've never been overt supporters of Voldemort, they just went along to get along. Malfoy said his father told him that Pansy's family, on both sides, never joined the Death Eaters. They didn't want to be a part of all that; they supported the Death Eater cause with money but left the dirty work to others. That's why Draco and Pansy were betrothed.'

'Excuse me?' said Harry. 'Did you say Draco and Pansy were betrothed?'

'That's how it's done in these old-fashioned pureblood families; you have to keep the bloodline from being _tainted_,' said Ginny sarcastically. 'Anyway, Lucius wanted Draco to have a wife who wouldn't get in the way of the Death Eater stuff; she'd be the silent little wife and look the other way and cover up for Draco if the authorities tried to investigate him. But she wouldn't get her hands dirty being a Death Eater.'

'Clearly, the wedding is off,' said Harry dryly.

'They have a weird relationship, to say the least,' said Ginny. 'But Draco's really bad off now she's gone. I think, in his own twisted way, he misses her.'

'Emphasis on "twisted",' said Harry.

'What about Nott?' Ron asked, not wanting to think about Draco and Pansy's 'weird' relationship.

'Nothing,' said Harry. 'I followed the Slytherins to Quidditch practice and they gave Malfoy a bit of a hard time but other than that, nothing. I probably won't get another chance to go after him for at least a few days, what with Quidditch practice and the D.A. meeting this week, and my wandless magic training.'

'He'll probably keep a low profile now school's started up again, anyway,' said Ron. 'He might have had something to do with Anthony and Pansy's disappearances, you realize.'

'Yeah, I've thought of that,' said Harry. 'You haven't seen anything in your regular meditations?'

'No,' said Ron, frowning. 'Nothing helpful there at all. It's like I had that crazy dream with all that stuff in it--half of which I still can't remember--and then, nothing. The only thing that's giving me anything concrete is this Tactile Sight stuff, and that's so tiring I can't do it more than a few times a day, at least for the moment. But what I have seen, Nott's not in there.'

'What about Hopkirk?' Harry asked, turning to Hermione. 'Anything new there?'

'We start experimenting with the potion on Friday,' said Hermione. 'That reminds me. You'll need to come with me; she needs samples of your blood.'

'I can hardly wait,' said Ron.

* * *

The week passed quickly. Harry fell quickly back into his busy routine: Quidditch practice on Tuesday and Thursday evenings; wandless magic practice on Wednesdays, followed by D.A. meetings; and of course, lessons.

The teachers clearly did not feel like easing the seventh years into the winter term. Professor Snape's first lesson of the term involved a timed drill, as he called it. The first day of Potions class the students found their tables covered haphazardly with various ingredients.

'You have thirty minutes to brew a Confusing Concoction,' Snape drawled, holding up a small hourglass. 'From memory.'

At this, the class gasped, and Harry cringed. From memory? The only person who didn't look positively appalled by this was Hermione.

'How are we supposed to memorize potions recipes?' Harry hissed at her.

'Harry, this is what's going to be on our N.E.W.Ts!' Hermione hissed back. 'Honestly, didn't you know? We'll have to brew at least four potions, in a prescribed amount of time, from memory.'

'I'm sure whatever you are telling Potter is scintillating, as usual, Miss Granger,' said Snape. 'But if you do not stop your relentless chatter I will take points from you. Surely as Head Girl, you don't want that.'

'No, sir,' said Hermione, looking very contrite.

Snape smirked at her, and then looked round at the other students.

'As you have brewed this particular potion before, it should be no problem for you. You may start now.' He turned the hourglass.

Harry and Ron exchanged desperate looks and looked down at their table; not only were the ingredients numerous, it appeared Snape had deliberately mixed them all together.

'Great,' Ron muttered. 'Let's just separate them out first.'

They did this; it took a good five minutes. Harry tried desperately to remember the order of ingredients.

Base of water and leech juice. Followed by...sliced caterpillar--three thin slices. Then the handful of minced scurvy-grass...

_It'll be a miracle if I get this done in a half hour._

At exactly thirty minutes, Snape called time. Harry gazed glumly at his potion. It was a murky, lumpy sort of purple, nothing like the clear, deep blue potion Hermione had produced, which was, no doubt, perfect. Ron's was bluer than Harry's but just as lumpy.

'Guess we'll have to study for N.E.W.Ts harder than we thought,' Ron muttered, as they left the class. In addition to the brutal 'timed drill', they'd started the unit on Wolfsbane Potion, which was easily the most complicated, difficult and delicate potion Harry had yet worked on. He wondered that Snape continued to brew it for Remus Lupin; the effort it required was rather extensive.

McGonagall was no less relentless than Snape; she, too, began timed drills for spells.

'To pass your N.E.W.Ts you will need to be able to demonstrate a comprehensive competency in every unit of transfiguration you have studied in your seven years at Hogwarts,' she said.

Harry groaned. That meant going back and practicing earlier spells, many of which he almost never used. This term was looking to be far more brutal than he could have imagined.

Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic were the only two lessons that offered them any relief; Harry still felt his stomach clench to see that Hagrid had still not returned, and nobody would, or could, give word of his whereabouts or doings. But the lesson itself, at least, proved relaxing enough. For dragons, the Pygmy Spiketails were almost cuddly. And History of Magic allowed Harry plenty of time to catch up on sleep. Hermione had given up on trying to prod him and Ron awake.

On top of this, Professor McGonagall announced that career counseling for the seventh years would take place on Saturday and Sunday; lists would go up in the houses informing the students of what time they would be meeting with their Heads of House. Harry noticed that McGonagall had arranged all the Gryffindors' times so as not to conflict with Quidditch practice. She was as anxious as Harry for the upcoming match with Ravenclaw; a win would tie them with Slytherin for the Cup; a loss would knock Gryffindor out of contention completely. Harry didn't fancy losing the Cup to Slytherin in his last year of school.

Hermione spent her free time either in the library, with Professor Hopkirk in discussions over her potion, or with Ron. Harry didn't begrudge Hermione taking up Ron's time, at least for now. She was still touchy about her parents' situation, and Ron was really the only person who could calm her down about that. Ron, meanwhile, was clearly relying on Hermione to keep him going as he struggled his way through this new Tactile Sight training he was engaged in. The training exhausted him, but by Thursday, Ron told Harry he felt like he was close to something, at least where Anthony was concerned. He had been able to pin down that Anthony was being held in a kind of warehouse, and he'd even discovered an address: 36 Rue de Fonsac. Unfortunately, Ron said, that address could be in France, or Belgium, or any other country where French was spoken as an official language. But even that bit of information he passed on to the Order.

Every free moment Harry had, he tried to spend it with Ginny. It was hard on them both, not having enough privacy, not having enough time to simply be together. And yet, Harry felt them growing closer, even in the little time they had to spend together. It felt good, all told, to get close to a girl again. Especially this girl, who made him laugh and challenged him and excited him, sometimes all at once. Physically, things were still progressing slowly, but Harry didn't mind so much. He knew Ginny was still a bit hesitant, given the situation with her Empath powers, and he'd rather her be comfortable than try to push something on her when she wasn't ready.

That didn't stop him from wanting her, but he kept himself firmly under control all the same. He wasn't going to mess things up with Ginny if he could help it.

It was Friday, just before the dinner hour, and they were on his bed, kissing heatedly; the room was empty, and his bedcurtains were drawn and charmed with an Imperturbable.

It was a tangle of limbs, and their shirts were off, and her bra, and questing hands caressed heated skin, and he was hard and eager, and then he felt her fingers brush across...

He sucked in a breath and bit his lip; perhaps it was an accident. But when he felt her hand on him, he groaned. He put his hand over hers, with every intention of pulling it away, but then she had both hands on him, one undoing his belt, the other pulling at the button on the waistband of his trousers.

'Ginny, wait...'

She silenced him with a kiss, and he felt her slide the zipper of his trousers down.

'I want to,' she whispered, against his lips.

'Are you sure?' he said, his voice betraying him.

_Please...oh god..._

She smiled at him and nodded, and her hands moved...

Harry bit his lip as she touched him, tentatively; he felt emotions flowing out of her skin. She was nervous.

'Is this okay?' she asked. 'I'm not very...I haven't done this all that much...maybe you could...'

Her voice trailed off.

'What?' he asked, as her hands stilled. But somehow, he knew; even though she'd been with Dean, she was still inexperienced, nervous.

She bit her lip and looked up at him, blushing. 'Show me.'

Harry swallowed. 'You mean...you want me to...myself?'

'No,' Ginny said quickly. 'I mean...take my hand and...and show me.'

Harry couldn't help but smile; she looked so embarrassed, and yet Harry could sense her desire underneath that. He took her small hand in his, and placed it over him.

Her lips parted, and he let out a breath; her hand was soft and warm on him, and he moved it gently, pressing her fingers around him.

'Like that,' he said, and he let his own hand drop; she continued, and he sighed and felt his head drop back.

_Bloody hell..._

It had been so long since a girl had touched him like this; his head was spinning; it felt good. Beyond good.

'Is this okay?' she asked again; there was a hitch in her voice.

'Y-yes,' Harry whispered. 'Please...don't stop...'

She didn't. He couldn't quite believe this was happening. He felt Ginny shudder and realized, in the haze of sensation, that she was feeling some of what he was feeling, this intensity and heat.

She gave a soft whimper and leaned over to kiss his mouth; both her hands were on him now, moving intently. It was too much, it felt too good...

Everything crashed around him and Harry felt himself tumbling inside; Ginny made a soft sound in her throat and shuddered again before collapsing next to him.

After a few minutes, Harry found the strength to do a Cleaning Spell, and to speak.

'Wow,' he said, a bit sluggishly.

Ginny giggled softly and snuggled up to him; his arms went around her.

'Are you okay?' she asked.

Harry gave her a look. 'What do you think?'

She smiled. 'Judging by the goofy look on your face, I'd say you're okay.'

Harry grinned. 'That was brilliant. This Empath thing...it's amazing. I mean...I think it is. You're okay, too, right?'

Ginny smiled, her eyes looking a bit dreamy. 'Yes,' she said. 'Very okay.'

They held each other for a little while, without speaking, but just as Harry felt himself grow drowsy, his stomach rumbled. Ginny laughed softly.

'Dinner time,' she said, and she extricated herself from his arms.

'I'm starving,' Harry said, lifting himself up on his elbows and putting on his glasses, which he'd discarded on the bed. 'But I don't feel like going anywhere,' he added, as he watched her pick up her bra from the bed and slide it on.

'Stop staring,' Ginny said, blushing.

'Oh, come on. I can't help it,' said Harry, grinning, and wishing she'd take her bra off again. 'You look amazing.'

Ginny bit her lip and smiled with a mixture of amusement and shyness; in that moment, Harry knew a feather could have knocked him over. She drove him crazy when she did that, when she let her vulnerability peek through. It was a side of her that only he got to see, and he loved her for sharing it with him, for trusting him with it.

She was pulling on her blouse when he grabbed her hand.

'I love you,' he said. He felt a rush of warmth in his skin and his blood as she smiled. It was only the second time he'd said it to her, but clearly, she loved hearing it.

'I love you, too,' she whispered.

* * *

Just after dinner, Hermione pulled Harry, Ron and Ginny aside; it was time to go to Hopkirk's office.

As they made their way to her office, Harry reflected on this week's lessons, and the D.A. meeting. Hopkirk was now schooling them in more intense combat; it was as if she was training all her students to be Aurors, Harry thought. His mind wandered to his career counseling session the following day, and he grimaced. He had asked James Marchbanks about the application process; James had grinned and said that the written application wasn't actually all that difficult.

'It's the combat, oral and personality tests that kill you,' he'd said.

All too soon, they reached Hopkirk's door. Hermione knocked primly, and Hopkirk's muffled voice came through.

'Come in.'

The four of them entered. Professor Hopkirk was seated at her desk, reading over a piece of parchment. A table to her left was covered with flasks and beakers, and to the right of it was a large copper cauldron that simmered gently. The real surprise, though, was that Professor Snape was standing behind her, reading over her shoulder.

Neither one of them looked up at first; indeed, they seemed to be quite caught up in what they were doing. Harry and the others stood still and watched them as they spoke.

'I still wonder whether the diamond dust is mature enough,' Hopkirk muttered.

'Wilhelmina assures me that it is,' said Snape, his voice sounding surprisingly reassuring, rather than having its usual sharpness. 'It's the feathers that are the problem. They won't reach maturity for another four weeks.'

'True, but it's better to test with infant feathers at this point,' she said, looking up at Snape and stacking up her parchment. 'He'll have to build up his nervous system to accept this anyway, and using a full-strength potion right away could be dangerous.'

'I agree,' said Snape, stepping back slightly as Hopkirk stood up.

Harry looked from one to the other and guessed what they were talking about. It didn't sound good.

'Ah,' said Hopkirk, smiling her enigmatic smile. 'Sorry, we were just finishing up. You're a bit early.'

Ron opened his mouth to ask a question, but Snape lifted a hand as if to silence him.

'I am here to assist Professor Hopkirk,' said Professor Snape coolly. 'I offered her my expertise and she accepted it.'

_Great,_ Harry thought_. Lovely. As if we don't get enough of Snape in lessons._

'Enough small talk,' said Hopkirk, her voice suddenly brisk and efficient. 'We need blood samples, as I'm sure Miss Granger mentioned. One pint from each of you. I hope you remembered to eat your fill at dinner.'

'A pint?' said Ron, looking nervous. 'That...sounds like a lot.'

'Don't be nervous, Mr. Weasley,' said Snape, smirking. 'The needle doesn't hurt that badly.'

'Needle?' Ron gasped.

'Who's first?' said Hopkirk.

'I'll go,' said Hermione, giving Ron's hand a sympathetic squeeze.

* * *

Ginny and Harry were still trying not to laugh as the four of them sat around the fire in the common room, which was, thankfully, quite empty.

'Shut up!' Ron snarled, when Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a chuckle.

'Ron, it's no big deal,' said Hermione, patting his hand gently. 'Lots of people pass out when they have blood drawn.' She gave Harry and Ginny a dirty look.

Harry forced his face to look serious. 'She's right,' he said. 'Happens all the time. My cousin Dudley went down like a stone after having blood drawn, and it was for a lot less than a pint.'

'Thanks, Harry,' said Ron sarcastically. 'That makes me feel so much better. Knowing that I share something in common with your idiot cousin.'

'Come on, Ron, it's okay,' said Ginny, placing a hand on his arm, which was bandaged. He winced.

'I didn't see anybody else..._faint,_' he muttered.

'You stood up too fast, that's why,' said Hermione, in her best lecturing tone. 'I told you not to do that.'

'And thank you, Hermione,' said Ron sarcastically, running a hand through his hair before stopping to rub at a spot on the back of his head. 'You know, I could have cracked my skull open. I still have a lump as it is.'

At this Harry winced in sympathy. It hadn't been pretty, actually, seeing Ron standing one minute, and then dropping to the floor like a sack of wet sand. He'd bumped his head on the stone floor and Hopkirk, after reviving him, had sent him to Madam Pomfrey for a quick patch-up and some Blood Replenishing Draught. Harry himself still felt slightly light-headed from the loss of a pint of blood, and if he were honest, he might have passed out himself, had he not been more careful about getting up.

'It wouldn't have been so bad if bloody Snape hadn't been there,' Ron went on. 'Did you see the look on his face? Greasy git.'

Hermione started to say something--probably to correct Ron for his language or for impugning the teacher, but she stopped, and instead gave Ron a light kiss on the cheek. Harry was impressed; so, clearly, was Ron, who gave her a look.

'What, no correcting me for swearing?' he asked, in a teasing tone.

'You hit your head,' Hermione said, shrugging. 'And Snape was a bit of a git for smiling about that.'

Ron's face lit up into a grin. 'I must have hit my head harder than I thought,' he said. 'Hermione Granger finally admitted Snape is a git.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

They sat quietly, the four of them, for a while. Gradually the common room filled, as students returned from the library, and then emptied out again, as students retired for the night.

Ron stood up after a while--very slowly--and announced he and Hermione had patrols, and that afterward, he was going to try Tactile sight again.

'Ron, it's too much,' Hermione protested. 'You can't--'

'Hermione, I just got a pint of blood sucked out of me tonight,' Ron argued. 'That's probably what they're doing to Anthony right now, and if he feels half as bad as I did...I'm close, love. I have to finish this. I'm getting nowhere with Pansy but with Anthony...'

Hermione pursed her lips; her eyes showed nothing but worry, but she nodded, and the two of them bid Harry and Ginny good-night. Harry and Ginny decided to turn in, as well. Ginny whispered to Harry that she would join him shortly.

If there was one benefit to coming back to school, it was that Ginny could sleep next to him again.

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and frigid. The snow had frozen overnight and now sparkled in the sunshine; Harry frowned. Visibility would be half-blinding for today's practice.

After a month and a half away, the team was definitely feeling rusty. The cold didn't help matters, of course, but Harry was relentless. He knew Ron would need the distraction, owing to his agitation at not yet successfully locating Anthony. The team spent three solid hours on warm-ups, drills, and strategy, with the Chasers trying out several new formations that Ron and Harry had discussed over the holiday. Hermione had a meeting with Hopkirk that morning, to brew different samples of their potion; her career counseling session was in the late morning.

After the practice, they went inside to shower and change. Harry's career counseling session was an hour after lunch. The shower, the exercise, and the meal were a great help to him as he headed to McGonagall's office, dressed in school robes.

McGonagall was punctual as ever; just as Harry arrived, Parvati Patil was exiting the office. There was a five minute lag time between each appointment; Harry noticed that Parvati looked tired and troubled.

'Hey,' he said. 'What's up?'

Parvati sighed. 'The counseling is...well. I hope you have a better idea of what you want to do with your life than I do, Harry.' She sighed again. 'I just...didn't need to do this today.'

Harry touched her arm sympathetically.

'How's Padma doing?' he asked.

'Horribly,' said Parvati bluntly. 'She keeps blaming herself. If only she'd hadn't been late...you know. I told her, if she'd been on time something could have happened to her, but that only made her feel worse.'

'I'm really sorry, Parvati,' said Harry.

She smiled weakly at him. 'Thanks. McGonagall told me she thinks they're close to finding Anthony but...if they don't...I don't know how Padma's going to handle it.'

Harry bit back the urge to tell her she shouldn't give up hope. It would sound false coming from him, and in any case, even if Ron was getting closer, there was no telling if he'd find Anthony in time to save him.

'You need anything?' Harry asked instead.

'More Quidditch practices,' she said, smirking.

'Sorry, I just thought we needed--'

'I was being serious,' she said. 'You're right. Quidditch is pretty therapeutic. Thanks for working us so hard today. It helped a lot.'

'Any time,' he said, smiling at her.

'Good luck in there,' said Parvati, as Professor McGonagall's door opened.

'I'm ready for you now, Potter,' she said.

''Bye, Parvati,' said Harry. 'Take care.'

'You, too,' said Parvati, and Harry watched her for a moment as she headed down the corridor.

'Potter?'

'Sorry,' said Harry, remembering himself, and where he was. He entered McGonagall's office.

'I know this isn't the best time to be doing this,' said McGonagall, as she gestured for Harry to sit down in the chair opposite her desk. 'Miss Patil is having a difficult time, being there for her sister.'

'Ron's working really hard--' Harry began.

'I know he is,' said McGonagall. 'Too hard, if you ask me. But we're here to talk about you. I've taken the liberty of putting together a packet for you.'

She opened her desk drawer and took out a stack of parchment.

'This packet contains information on the best Auror training schools throughout the United Kingdom,' said McGonagall. 'I assumed you would want to stay in England, of course.'

'Yes,' said Harry.

'Very well,' said McGonagall. 'The brochure at the top lists all the requirements to complete the Auror training program with the Ministry. There are similar requirements for the Auror academies in Scotland, Wales and Northampton. You will, of course, need a minimum grade of "E" on all your N.E.W.Ts to qualify for any of the programs.'

'Right,' said Harry, making another mental note to study more often. Harry opened a second brochure, which was called 'A Day in the Life of an Auror Trainee.'

'Once accepted in whichever program,' McGonagall went on, indicating the brochure, 'you will have six days a week of training in combat, dueling, covert and psychological operations, foreign language, advanced potions, advanced transfiguration, and healing. Every fourth week will be a four day week, to allow for rest and recuperation, as well as monthly progress examinations.'

Harry swallowed. 'That sounds intense.'

'Intense,' said McGonagall, 'is an understatement. Half of all enrolled Auror trainees drop out before they complete their training. Half of those who drop out do so within the first month.'

Harry gulped again, quite audibly.

'A trainee who completes the program also must take a series of examinations,' said McGonagall crisply. 'There what's called the Psychological Battery of Tests, or PBTs. Ten separate tests to determine psychological soundness and judgment; half of these tests are taken in conjunction with the Physical Fitness Tests--PFTs--that mimic combat situations. There are drills in emergency potion making and emergency healing and the like.

'You should note, too, Potter, that the Ministry Auror school now requires each trainee to spend six months at a foreign institution. Madam Bones instituted the program last year, in cooperation with the French, Italian, Spanish and German ministries in the hopes of increasing outreach and inter-agency cooperation. As such, part of your Auror training will include classes in a foreign language.'

'Okay,' said Harry, his heart pounding nervously.

_Maybe I should just get a job at Quality Quidditch Supplies._

McGonagall looked at Harry intently. 'Is something wrong, Potter?'

'Er...no,' said Harry. 'I just...well, it's a lot, isn't it? The job requirements.'

'I told you already, you haven't chosen an easy career,' said McGonagall. 'But you know, Potter, there are other things you are qualified to do.'

'Like what?'

'Have you given any thought at all to teaching?'

Harry stared at her. Was she serious? Teaching?

'Are you serious?' he asked.

'Of course I'm serious!' said McGonagall, with a huff. 'Teaching is a noble profession, among the finest--'

'I agree,' said Harry quickly. 'It's just...I never really saw myself as a teacher.'

'I'm surprised,' said McGonagall. 'After leading the D.A. for almost a full year? Bill Weasley tells me you're a natural at teaching, and he's not the only one. And of course, it would be nice to be able to hire a Defense professor who stayed beyond a single year--'

'You think I should be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?' Harry said, amazed. 'But...what about Hopkirk?'

McGonagall pursed her lips. 'She will stay this year and the next, if...all goes well.'

The meaning behind this remained unspoken.

_You mean, if I finally beat Voldemort once and for all._

'You would not start teaching right away, of course,' said McGonagall. 'Prospective first-time teachers must do a year's apprenticeship.'

_Which would mean working closely with Hopkirk._

_Is McGonagall mad? She sounds mad to suggest this. Me, a teacher?_

Instead, Harry said, 'I...I'd never thought about it, but...I guess I could mull it over.'

'Good,' said McGonagall, smiling a rare smile. 'And just to give you further information, here are some brochures on teaching.' She pulled a few more brochures from her desk drawer and passed them to him.

'Oh, yes,' said McGonagall, and she handed him a few more brochures. 'I received these from a few scouts. Puddlemere is looking for a Seeker, and Wood just took over as captain for the team. He'd love to have you back as a teammate, I'm sure. Just another option to think about, Potter.'

Harry nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed, and he took the brochures from McGonagall. The stack of materials was now a good three inches thick.

'Do you have any questions?' she asked.

Harry could do nothing but shake his head. His head was spinning already.

'Very good, then, you can go,' said McGonagall. 'If you do want to apply for the Auror program, you need to make sure your applications are submitted before you take the N.E.W.Ts. Application deadline is the first of May.'

'Thanks,' Harry said weakly. He stood up and started for the door, which McGonagall opened with a wave of her wand; Harry started out when he collided with Ron. The stack of brochures and parchment nearly went flying.

'Ow!' Harry blurted, when Ron stepped on his foot. 'That's my foot!'

'Professor McGonagall!' Ron yelled, ignoring Harry.

'Mr. Weasley, is it beyond your capability to enter a teacher's office quietly?' McGonagall huffed.

Harry, who was shaking out his mashed foot, was about to give Ron a dirty look, but the look in Ron's blue eyes stopped him.

'Please, Professor,' Ron said. 'I...I think I know where Anthony Goldstein is.'

* * *

French translations

(Courtesy of WorldLingo; translations may not be exact. Also, 'oui' means 'yes'; I didn't think it needed a footnote)

1. Is it him?

2. He is a mess. We cannot possibly present him to Our Lord in this condition.

3. It's Macnair. He is always exceeding the limits, roughing up the prisoners despite clear instructions--

4. Enough. We will deal with Macnair later. Right now we must cure this one and prepare to give our lord his...services.

* * *

**A/N: Mwaaa ha ha ha ha! Evil cliffhanger! I know, I'm mean. But I have to find a way to keep you reading, don't I?**

**A little note: There is, in fact, a company called Clingfoil, Ltd. based in Cheshire, England. Apparently, they sell packing supplies. For the purposes of my story, such a company does not exist. I could not find a way to make it fit into my plot in a satisfactory way, and in any case, I don't fancy the possibility of breaking some obscure British copyright law I don't know about by using the company's name anyway.**

**Also, 'Wilhelmina' is none other than Professor Grubbly-Plank.**

**Thanks, as ever, to Buckbeaky, and of course to lina, as well.**


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight: Finding the Missin...

_Chapter Thirty Eight: Finding the Missing_

Ron paced anxiously about the common room. Harry, Hermione and Ginny made no move to stop him; they all seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.

It had been several hours since Ron had given Professor McGonagall the news about Anthony's whereabouts. 36 Rue de Fonsac, Tours, France. The house was near the Loire river.

_You don't even know if he's still there,_ said the nagging voice inside Ron's head. _For all you know, he could be dead by now._

The last vision he'd had was of the house, the river, and street signs, before his mind's eye had taken him into the room in which Anthony was kept. It looked like he was in the basement of the house. Lestrange and another Death Eater--Macnair by the look of him--Ron didn't know had carried a very pale, weak looking Anthony up several flights of stairs to what appeared to be an attic room. A figure in a chair sat at the back of the room, which, by all appearances, seemed to be sweltering, if the profuse sweating of the other occupants was anything to go by. A cauldron stood near the chair, with a magical fire beneath it. None of the people in the room wore Death Eater robes, and Ron recognized them all. Helene Rosier; Theodore Nott's father; Crabbe, Sr. and Goyle, Sr.; and most recognizable of all, with his long blond hair pulled back in a sweaty ponytail, was Lucius Malfoy.

'Hurry,' said a strained, high-pitched voice; it was coming from the figure in the chair, who was wrapped in blankets, despite the heat of the room.

Voldemort? Who else could it have been?

Ron swallowed as he paced, remembering the next part of the vision, the way Lestrange and the other Death Eater propped up Anthony, who was mumbling incoherently. Voldemort made some sort of gesture with his right hand, and Lucius Malfoy approached Anthony, his wand in his hand.

Ron closed his eyes as he recalled what came next. A slashing motion of Lucius's wand, and Anthony's right forearm split open, spilling dark red blood into a bowl held by Helene Rosier. It was the same spell Dolohov had used to cut Hermione, the same spell he, Ron, had used to kill Dolohov...

They took a full cup of Anthony's blood before Malfoy sealed up the wound with a flick of his wand. The last thing Ron saw was Helene Rosier, carrying the bowl of blood over to Voldemort.

Now, Ron could do nothing but wait. The remaining career counseling sessions had been postponed until tomorrow, but he couldn't even think of that right now. All he could think of was whether all his work had been in vain.

Another ten minutes passed, and the common room filled and emptied again. Several students gave Ron strange looks, but they said nothing; they seemed to sense he was in a mood, and they knew better than to bother him. It was yet another of the privileges that came with being Head Boy.

Ten more minutes went by, and suddenly the portrait hole creaked open, and Professor McGonagall entered the room.

At once, Harry, Hermione and Ginny stood up. McGonagall came to a halt in front of Ron, and leaned in towards him.

'Goldstein's been found,' she said gravely, in a low voice.

'And?' Ron asked, clenching his fists.

'Alive,' said McGonagall. 'Barely. They left him for dead in an alley two blocks from the house. By the time the Auror team in France reached the house, it had been abandoned, and all trace of its occupants wiped clean.'

She paused and let out a heavy breath. 'Mr. Goldstein was in a very bad way. Another fifteen minutes and he would have died. He's in hospital now, a local magical hospital called St. Germaine's. The Healers have had to repair significant damage in addition to the massive blood losses he suffered, but he is stable and out of immediate danger.'

Ron let out a breath and felt his knees give way; he sat down heavily on the sofa.

'Anthony's going to be okay,' Hermione repeated.

'Yes,' said McGonagall, and she looked down at Ron, who was weak from exhaustion. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to find that her eyes were filled with tears, and something else. Pride.

'Well done, Weasley,' she said. '

Ron swallowed again. 'Thanks,' he managed.

* * *

Hermione was sleeping in his arms on his bed. They'd come back to his room after getting the news about Anthony, and had done little more than crawl into bed and hold each other. Ron heard the faint sound of Hermione's breathing, felt her hand clench and unclench as it rested on his chest.

His mind was racing. He'd found Anthony in time. Anthony would survive.

_'If you can learn to make full use of Tactile Sight, you will be among the most powerful Seers alive.'_

Firenze's words had been ringing in Ron's mind ever since McGonagall had come with the news of Anthony.

_Me, one of the most powerful Seers alive. That's a good one._

And yet in only a week, Ron knew he was tapping into something powerful within himself, something that he could not yet fully understand. He had found Anthony in time, simply by opening up his own mind and holding onto an old t-shirt.

Ron shuddered. That kind of power ought to thrill him. Instead it only made him afraid. And he could not stop the nagging voice in his head that spoke of Pansy Parkinson, for whose whereabouts and fate remained a mystery. For all his attempts to reach her, he had only managed to get one more vision: Pansy tumbling out of a fireplace, covered in soot, looking up with wide eyes at a black-robed someone who stood over her and said, in an undistinguishable voice, 'Hello, Pansy.'

It was probably a Death Eater who'd greeted her, Ron thought, but even of that he could not be sure. He began to wonder if he was doing something wrong, of if perhaps there was something else at work here, some sinister trick. An elaborate ruse, perhaps, that was blocking Ron's ability to see the events surrounding Pansy clearly?

Perhaps. It seemed as likely an explanation as her getting abducted. As far as Pansy was concerned, there would be no easy answers, Ron realized, and this bothered him greatly. He had a nagging feeling she was a part of this whole thing, whatever this thing was, but he couldn't place where she fit.

And then his thoughts went back to Anthony, and the cruelty he had suffered at the hands of Death Eaters, simply because he was a convenient victim.

'Ron, are you okay?'

'What?' he murmured, startled to realize that Hermione had woken up.

'You can't sleep,' she said softly. 'You're a thousand miles away. What is it?'

He looked at her, struggling to speak. 'It's just...'

'Just what?' she prompted, moving closer to him.

'I keep thinking,' he said, 'about Anthony and what they did to him.'

'Don't think about that,' she said.

'I can't help it,' said Ron fervently, and he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. 'I can't stop asking myself why. Why the hell did this mad dark wizard come along and decide he had to kill people and take over the world? Why the hell did he mark Harry when Harry was just a kid? And kill Harry's parents? And there's no answer, is there? Evil doesn't have a reason, not this kind of evil. It just..._is_.'

Hermione bit her lip, but said nothing.

'That's what gets me,' said Ron. 'It's all senseless. And...you know, even if Harry gets Voldemort in the end, it's not going to just stop. Not totally. There'll always be somebody else, some sick bastard who kills and tortures people just because.'

He paused and looked down at her. She was propped up on her elbow, looking up at him with sad brown eyes; her hair floated around her like some out-of-control cloud. She was beautiful, and suddenly she and Ron were in a hospital, and she was lying on a bed wearing sweaty hair and a tear-stained face and clutching a small baby in her arms, a baby girl with a shock of red hair. The image was stark and vivid, and reminded him of the vision he'd had so many months ago. A wonderful vision that, in the midst of all this violence, he'd forgotten.

'What?' she whispered.

He opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to tell her. Why couldn't he tell her?

_Hermione, I hope we get married someday, and have kids together._

_I want you to be the mother of my children._

_I want you forever._

'Do you ever think about...the future?' he finally asked.

_Good one, Weasley. That's not a total cop-out._

'Of course,' she said, shrugging. 'I have to, don't I? I just had career counseling--'

'That's not what I meant,' said Ron.

Hermione looked down at her hands. 'I know,' she said. She paused and looked up at him. 'Sometimes. And sometimes...I think maybe it's better just to think about making it through tomorrow.'

Ron nodded; he understood that much.

'What about you?' she asked. 'Do you think about the future?'

_Yes. A lot. I want my future to be with you._

'Sometimes,' he said. 'Maybe that's why, you know, I want to be an Auror. I guess...I just want to make things better. Not just for me but for you and Harry and...everyone else.'

Hermione pursed her lips, and surprised Ron by turning over on her side.

'Hermione, what's wrong?'

'You're serious about being an Auror,' she said. It wasn't a question.

'Of course,' he said. 'You know that.'

She nodded, but said nothing, and Ron saw her eyes fill with tears.

'Hey,' he whispered, and he turned her back over. 'What's this?' He wiped at her tears with his thumbs.

'Nothing,' she said, as more tears flowed silently.

'Not nothing,' said Ron insistently, now feeling very worried. 'Tell me what's--'

But Hermione silenced him with her lips, pressing them firmly against his.

'Please, Ron,' she whispered. 'I don't want to talk anymore.'

Ron started to protest, but she kissed him again, parting her lips against his; he responded automatically, there was no way he could resist the feel of her mouth against his own. She kissed him desperately, and he felt the tears on her face and his mouth moved to kiss them away, and still she wept silently, still she kissed him. He was at a loss to understand her tears, and part of him meant to stop her, but she wouldn't be stopped. Her hands pulled off his pyjama shirt and glided over his heated skin, and his hands tugged at her nightgown, drawing it up, up, up and over her head.

The nightgown came off, and she lay there, beautiful and sad, with moonlit skin. Her eyes were still wet as she took his hand and drew it to her breast.

'We don't have to,' Ron said. He could stop now, he could. But if she took it any further...

Hermione kissed him again and slid her hand inside his boxers. He groaned, and knew he was lost. She could demand anything from him, and the sight of her tears would only spur him to do that much more to make her forget whatever bad things she was thinking of.

'Make love to me,' she whispered, her breath hot in his ear, and he felt her reach for her wand to do the Contraceptive Charm; their bodies glowed blue for a moment.

'Please,' she murmured, tossing her wand aside.

He did, first with his hands and his mouth, reveling in the softness of her flesh and in bringing forth soft cries from her throat and tremors in her hips. And then with all of himself, pushing slowly inside the warm sweetness of her body. But she would not go slow tonight, she asked for everything he had, and he gave it, and when he lost himself completely inside her, they were both tired and sweaty, and he felt like there was something new between them. Something powerful, and a bit unsettling. He felt it in the way she whimpered as he withdrew, and in the way she clung to him so tightly as she fell asleep.

It was only as he was falling asleep himself that he remembered their argument at Grimmauld Place, the night after they'd fled the Granger house. How Hermione had accused him of putting himself in the way of the Killing Curse to protect her father.

_She's afraid,_ Ron realized. _Afraid of me being an Auror. _

* * *

Ron found himself busier by the day, and yet this particular January was among the slowest he could remember.

The cold weather and heavy snows were so extreme that students were forced to stay indoors all month; Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology lessons were moved indoors, to protect the Spiketails and Professor Sprout's collection of cold-sensitive plants.

The bitter cold prevented further Quidditch practices on the pitch, but McGonagall offered a temporary solution: practice sessions held in the Great Hall, after dinner. She and the other teachers helped to transfigure the hall into a kind of make-shift pitch, but the dimensions of the room were still too small, and the confined space made it difficult to practice more aggressive moves. And yet, it was the only option the teams had to practice at all.

Ron meditated frequently. Anthony Goldstein, Professor McGonagall informed him, would spend a period of time in hospital to recover from his injuries, as well as the psychological trauma of his ordeal. He'd return to Hogwarts, assuming he wished to do so, on the first of February.

Meantime, Ron was having very little luck with Pansy. He saw flashes of her quite frequently. She always seemed to be sitting in a dark room with a cot, hugging her knees and crying. There was one other vision he saw that unsettled him: two dark robed figures--they had to be Death Eaters--entering the room and yanking a sleeping Pansy off the stained cot. She awoke with a scream and began to cry and struggle. That was the last thing he'd seen, and the vision replayed itself to him several times, but nothing else was coming to him but those vague flashes of Pansy in that room, wherever it was.

Defense lessons continued to be grueling. They were now working in earnest on wandless magic, specifically on Summoning Charms.

'Very useful if your wand is knocked from your hand in combat,' Professor Hopkirk explained. 'Not that performing a Summoning Charm without a wand is remotely easy.'

It wasn't. The only student who mastered a wandless Summoning Charm by that lesson's end was Harry; Ron watched with a mixture of admiration and jealousy as Harry's wand sailed across the classroom to land neatly in his hand. Hermione got her wand to fly toward her but she couldn't direct its flight; halfway across the room, her wand would either drop or swing wildly to the right or left and land far away.

For his part, Ron was able to get his wand to move about a foot or so, but nothing more. It was exceedingly frustrating to him, because he'd done this sort of wandless magic before, during his fight with Dolohov.

_That was a fluke. You were scared and full of adrenaline._

Ron made a mental note to practice the wandless Summoning Charm every day; even though the Auror exams didn't require any serious wandless magic, beyond the Defensive Charge, he knew that better skills could save his life.

The students also were made to work on repelling the Imperius Curse; Ron was heartened to see that his attempts to throw off the curse had improved, though he knew he still had a long way to go.

Then there was the work on Hopkirk's Shield Charm, which was the most difficult protection charm Ron had ever attempted. And yet, to his amazement, he mastered it with relative ease; the only student who got it faster than he was Harry.

'Excellent, Mr. Weasley,' said Hopkirk approvingly, after she'd ordered him to demonstrate the charm (she threw the Cruciatus Curse at him; Hermione's eyes blazed with anger but she said nothing). 'A little more practice and you'll be able to deflect the Killing Curse.'

Charms lessons were now focused on N.E.W.Ts, which meant going back to some of the rudiments of charm casting and charm theories, which meant a lot more reading.

D.A. meetings commenced; Neville had returned to his post as Hopkirk's assistant. Hopkirk put everyone through their paces, physically, mentally and magically. One particularly grueling session toward the end of January had Ron facing off with Blaise Zabini; they were forced to chase one another about the hall, throw curses, levitate furniture to use as barriers, dive out of the way of hexes, and of course, use Hopkirk's Shield Charm. The end of the session left Ron exhausted and sweaty, but once more Hopkirk praised him.

'Good work, Weasley,' she said to him quietly, her icy blue eyes flashing. 'Come to my office on Friday and we'll discuss your Auror application.'

Going to Hopkirk's office on Friday was, Ron learned, to discuss Hopkirk writing Ron a recommendation to the Auror schools he had applications for.

'I'm doing the same for Potter,' she said, sitting back in her chair as Ron sat across from her. 'Professor McGonagall will almost certainly write you and Potter recommendations if you ask for them, but the schools will want to hear from a Defense teacher as well.'

'Thanks,' Ron said hesitantly.

'I wouldn't be doing this, Weasley,' she said, 'if I didn't think you have what it takes to be a very good Auror.'

'Really?' said Ron.

'Really,' said Hopkirk, smiling enigmatically. 'Potter's the best student, mind. I think you know that. He has incredible reflexes and he's agile, and his spell-casting is beyond most wizards three times his age. But you're close. You beat him in Potions making, according to Professor Snape--'

'You're kidding,' said Ron. 'My potions marks--'

'Are reliably average, and no better,' said Hopkirk, 'but you show a stronger aptitude than Potter, believe it or not. Your mental focus and your physical abilities are very good, though. Your spell casting has improved greatly. But what stands out for you is your attitude.'

Ron gave her a confused look. 'My attitude?'

'You're a do-gooder,' said Hopkirk, but somehow, the term didn't seem all that flattering coming from her. 'You're self-sacrificing and have a strong protective instinct. You want to be an Auror because you believe you'll be doing good in the world.'

Ron felt his neck get hot; he was suddenly extremely uncomfortable and he felt like squirming in his seat as Hopkirk pinned him with her pale blue eyes.

'Am I right?' she asked.

'I guess,' said Ron.

She regarded him for a long moment; Ron felt the sudden urge to bolt from the room, but her eyes were keeping him locked in the chair.

'Yes,' she said finally, licking her pink lips. Ron shivered. 'The world needs more people like you,' she went on, looking up at the ceiling. 'Optimists, dreamers. The sort who don't become jaded by life's ugliness, in spite of seeing so much of it.'

Her eyes came down again, and fixed on Ron's face. He felt unbearably hot, and he was horrified to see that her naked, demonic sexuality was wreaking havoc on him again. She reached out and touched his hand, and Ron bit his lip. Very hard.

'I envy you,' said Hopkirk at last, and her eyes were sad. She stood up slowly, dragging her fingers along the top of his hand as she did so. 'You can go now,' she added.

He got up quickly and headed for her office door as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run.

'Weasley,' she said. Ron stopped and took a deep breath before turning to look at her. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw that Hopkirk was right there, behind him, holding up a handkerchief.

'Your lip is bleeding,' she said, handing him the handkerchief.

'Right,' said Ron, taking the handkerchief. 'Er…I'll just go now. 'Bye.'

He left the office. He ran.

* * *

'You are frustrated by your lack of success with finding Miss Parkinson,' said Firenze.

Ron sat in the makeshift glade in the Divination classroom, staring into the magical fire, on the last day of January.

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'I don't get it. I was able to find Anthony but with Pansy it's like I'm hitting a brick wall. What if her going missing is just some sort of...scam? What if she just did a runner and is having a big laugh? Or maybe she's joined up with the Death Eaters and wants everyone to think she's missing so she can do something really...evil later on.'

Firenze looked at Ron as though considering these possibilities.

'If Miss Parkinson does not wish to be found,' he said finally, 'that could hinder your progress in locating her.'

'How's that?' said Ron.

'All humans share a basic connection, Ronald,' said Firenze. 'It is a connection that reaches past thought and logic. Have you never wondered why, for example, identical twins seem to be practically able to read each other's minds?'

Ron smirked as he thought of Fred and George. 'Yeah,' he admitted. 'I just always thought that was, you know, a twin thing.'

Firenze smiled and shook his head. It was incredibly rare for him to smile.

'I assure you,' he said, 'it is much deeper than a "twin thing." Human beings are all connected by mind, heart and soul.'

'I don't see that,' said Ron, screwing up his face in distaste. The last thing he'd want would be a connection with, say, Draco Malfoy.

'You found Anthony Goldstein because you have opened your heart, your soul to the love of your kind,' said Firenze. 'To that primal, elemental connection of souls. And Anthony reached out to you because on some primitive level, he sensed you seeking him out.'

Ron gave a disbelieving snort.

'So, what, Anthony's a Seer, too?' he said. 'Or an Empath?'

'No,' said Firenze. 'He is not. But all humans have empathy within them, and foresight, if they would only use it. You and your sister are exceptional, but all human beings have such potential. Unfortunately, your kind has forgotten these gifts. Too many humans have pushed away empathy, and love, and enlightenment, to poison their minds and hearts with the pursuit of wealth, and power, and domination. This is Voldemort's greatest evil, that he has poisoned his very humanity for the sake of power and immortality. He cannot feel love because he cannot open his soul.'

'You're assuming he has a soul,' said Ron.

'All sentient creatures have a soul,' said Firenze. 'Even corrupt ones. It was Voldemort's soul that remained and allowed him to be...reborn, as an abomination.'

'What does this have to do with Pansy?' Ron asked.

'It has everything to do with Miss Parkinson,' said Firenze. 'If she is indeed an agent of evil, you might never find her. Even if she is not at all aware of your gifts--and there is no reason to suspect that she is--if she has sold her soul to the cause of evil, she is closed. But you have seen her, several times, which suggests to me that she is open enough to reach you. She is afraid enough to reach out, although she might not know it.'

'So...you think she really has been abducted?'

'I think that is the most likely explanation,' said Firenze. 'If she is not reaching out to you as completely as Anthony, perhaps...it is because Miss Parkinson feels alone in the world.'

'So she's not completely...closed, then,' said Ron.

'The only way any human can be completely closed is if he chooses to be,' said Firenze, 'or if he is dead.'

Ron let out a breath.

'Don't worry, Ronald,' said Firenze. 'If Miss Parkinson were dead, you would have known it, you would have seen it somehow. The moment before death is when humans are as open as they will ever be.'

* * *

The following Saturday afternoon, nobody had seen Anthony Goldstein yet; Ron wondered if the poor bloke would come back to school, given what had happened to him.

Ron, Hermione and Harry sat in the common room that day, trying to absorb the warmth of the fire. It was nothing short of freezing outside, and even with all the fires, and Warming Charms, and layering of clothing, Ron couldn't shake the chill in his bones. He'd give anything for a bottle of butterbeer.

Hermione shifted in her chair; Ron glanced at her. She seemed to be burying herself in notes.

'What's that you're working on, love?' he asked.

Hermione looked up and smiled at him weakly.

'Notes,' she said quietly, 'for Hopkirk's potion. We start testing samples tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow's Sunday, Hermione,' said Harry. 'Take a break.'

'Harry,' said Hermione, giving him a look. 'This is too important, and you know it.'

Harry pursed his lips. 'I know, but it's no good for you to work yourself to death.'

'I'm fine,' she said, but Ron saw that she wasn't. Not really. Her eyes were glassy with lack of sleep, and she was pale and looked a little thinner. Ron was tempted to say something about this, but he let it go.

Hermione was, to put it mildly, very tightly wound of late. There was a kind of manic energy to her now, a determination he hadn't seen since third year, when she'd nearly worked herself to death taking all those classes. It worried him, the pressure she was putting on herself.

And yet, all attempts to talk her out of working too hard had lead to rows this month; he found that if he said anything that hinted that she might be taking on more than she could handle, that she bit his head off. He'd reached the point where he hated arguing with her. Not now, when circumstances were so desperate and dangerous. He quickly determined that the only way to deal with Hermione, at the moment, was to say nothing, and be there for her.

The strategy seemed to work, at least as far as keeping things relatively harmonious, but ever since that night they'd learned that Anthony had been found alive, Ron sensed a kind of new tension between them.

Oddly, where Hermione was positively standoffish during the day, she was clingy to the point of desperation at night. She spent every night in his room, holding onto him as though she were afraid he might disappear. They also had sex a lot more frequently, which ought to have made Ron very happy. Instead, it unnerved him, just a bit, because of the way Hermione approached it: as if they'd never get to be together like that again.

He mentioned this to Harry once, a few days earlier; Harry had looked at Ron as though he'd gone barmy.

'Hang on,' Harry had said. 'You're actually complaining about your girlfriend wanting to have sex every night?'

'No,' said Ron defensively. 'I just...it's just a bit weird, Harry, that's all. She's never been this clingy before.'

'She's scared, is all,' said Harry. 'She might still be upset about what happened at Christmas. Maybe this is just her way of coping, or something.'

'Maybe,' said Ron, shrugging, but he couldn't shake the nagging doubts in his mind.

Now, watching Hermione, he knew that sooner or later, they'd have to talk about whatever it was that was bothering her. Ron knew he would have to get through to her and tell her to take it easy on herself.

Ginny came into the common room at that moment; she looked grumpy.

'Hey, Gin,' said Harry, moving over on the sofa to make room for her. 'You okay?'

'Oh, fine,' said Ginny irritably. 'Just...Malfoy. Mrs. Tonks is trying to get me to radiate sympathy toward him, you know? So he'll calm down about Pansy. Only it's bloody hard to radiate sympathy toward him when he's such a wanker.'

Hermione clucked her tongue, but Ron saw that, for the first time in days, she was smiling.

'How much longer do you have to train with him?' Harry asked, in a tone that suggested they had discussed this issue before.

'Not much longer, I promise,' said Ginny. She took Harry's hands in hers and their eyes met; Ron realized that in that moment, they clearly had forgotten he and Hermione were in the room. This was confirmed when a moment later, Ginny leaned over to Harry and kissed him.

Hermione giggled softly.

'Oy!' Ron said. 'Do you mind? I'd prefer not to lose my appetite before dinner.'

'Shut up, Ron,' Harry and Ginny both said, as their lips parted.

* * *

It was at dinner that night that Anthony made his appearance.

Nobody had expected this; Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny were the only ones who knew that he'd been found. For reasons of security, McGonagall had kept the information quiet; apparently the French Ministry had done the same, informing only Anthony's parents of his rescue. For all intents and purposes, when dinner started that evening, Anthony was still missing.

Professor McGonagall made no announcement; halfway through the meal, Anthony simply limped into the Great Hall, accompanied by two Aurors. He looked thin and weak, and there was a streak of white in his dark hair, but he was smiling.

Padma Patil gave a shriek and hurtled towards him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing hysterically; Anthony put his arms round her, and the Great Hall erupted in cheers as the entire population of Ravenclaw house leapt up from their table and surrounded their classmate.

'Wow,' said Ginny, smiling. Her eyes were shiny with tears.

'That's some welcome,' said Harry, grinning, as they watched Padma kiss Anthony fervently. Professor McGonagall didn't even bat an eyelash at this robust public display of affection. Indeed, Ron noticed her wiping at her eyes.

Harry turned to Ron and clapped him on the back.

'You did that, mate,' Harry said, in a low voice.

Hermione put her arms round Ron. 'I'm so proud of you,' she whispered.

Ron's ears were so red and hot by now he was sure they'd burst into flame. He looked up to see Professor McGonagall smiling at him.

* * *

For the next week, Anthony Goldstein was the resident Hogwarts' celebrity. Although the students were being quite respectful of his privacy, in the sense that nobody was walking up to him and demanding a full accounting of his ordeal, the rumors and whispers circulated like wildfire. By the end of the week, the prevailing story was that Anthony, his body covered in cuts and both legs broken, had done battle with You-Know-Who himself and managed to Apparate out of there just as a Killing Curse was thrown.

Anthony said nothing about this; he simply kept his head down and threw himself back into his schoolwork and prefect duties. He was a month behind at the beginning of the week. By the end of the week, he'd caught himself up. Harry could only surmise that keeping busy--along with the attentive coddling of the very lovely Padma Patil--was what helped Anthony cope.

By now, the weather had let up just enough to allow for outdoor Quidditch practices, of which Harry took full advantage, working the Gryffindors hard. Ron grumbled that he would normally not have minded such a grueling practice schedule had he not also had to contend with daily Tactile Sight sessions and thrice weekly Defense lessons and meetings that required all of his physical strength and stamina.

'Are you trying to kill me, Harry?' he complained.

'Buck up, mate,' said Harry, as he pulled on his Quidditch gloves for that evening's practice. 'We're in the best shape of our lives at the moment, for all the work-outs we're getting. Think how appreciative Hermione must be.'

'Shut up,' said Ron, shaking his head, but after the practice, Harry saw Ron--fresh from a shower and wearing only a white towel--strike a manly pose in front of the changing room mirror. Harry wisely decided not to crack any jokes, but for the first time in his life he rather wished Moaning Myrtle were around.

The next Hogsmeade visit came at Valentine's Day weekend. Harry realized he hadn't planned anything special, mainly because he hadn't had time. In fact, he'd barely had any time to spend with Ginny alone at all. Between lessons, Quidditch, defense practice, preparation for N.E.W.Ts, spying on Nott--which was proving to be frustratingly fruitless--and working on his Auror applications, Harry was lucky to get enough sleep at night and eat a decent meal. The Hogsmeade weekend would be an all-too-welcome diversion, even if it was going to be much shorter in duration this time around and involve much tighter security.

In the spirit of the upcoming holiday, Fred and George had sent Ron a huge box of what they called their new 'romantic product line.'

'Edible underwear. They've sent me edible underwear,' said Ron, shaking his head as he held up a pair of cherry-red knickers that looked suspiciously shiny and smelled like raspberries. 'My brothers are perverts. That's all there is to it.'

'I think it's kind of cool, actually,' said Harry, and he started to grin as he imagined Ginny in those knickers...

'Oy, Potter, if you're thinking about my sister wearing these things, just stop right there,' said Ron, looking horrified.

Ron decided to hide the stuff under his bed; he clearly didn't think Hermione would go for the Bawdy Bindings--handcuffs that sang naughty songs--or those edible knickers.

'She might be into this chocolate body paint stuff, though,' he said, grinning wolfishly.

That night at dinner, three nights before the Hogsmeade visit, the students were surprised by an eagle owl appearing in the Great Hall. It gave a loud screech and soared low to the Slytherin table, landing in front of Draco Malfoy. Attached to its leg was a small package wrapped in brown paper.

Harry saw Ron tense as Draco took the package and paid the owl; Draco's face was lined with confusion, as he turned the package over in his hands. It was just then that Harry realized that the Great Hall had fallen silent. It was as if someone had cast a giant Silencing Charm on the entire space, and every occupant within, and there was a sudden chill in the air, like the chill that Professor Hopkirk brought whenever she passed by. Harry looked over at her; she was staring at Malfoy with a distinctly wary expression.

The tearing of paper split the silence in the Hall; Harry, his eyes fixed on Malfoy, heard a chair scraping along the floor, and then another; teachers were standing. Everyone in the Great Hall seemed to be holding their breath.

Draco pulled something from inside the half-torn paper. It was large and woolen, and pale pink, but there were strange, dark splotches on it. Splotches that looked like...

Draco gave a choked, garbled sound and leapt up from the table; he dropped the pink scarf as though it had caught fire in his hands; he stumbled over the bench and fled from the Great Hall. By now, Professor McGonagall was already halfway to his vacated seat.

'Marchbanks!' she barked, indicating that Auror Marchbanks should follow Draco. He nodded briskly, gestured to a female Auror to his right, and the two of them went after Malfoy in a flurry of dark blue robes.

Harry watched as McGonagall slowly picked up the abandoned scarf. Harry swallowed hard. It was covered in blood. At once the Great Hall began to rumble with gasps and hushed murmurs.

He looked back at Ron, who had gone so white in the face, his freckles seemed to have vanished.

'What?' said Hermione anxiously, tugging on Ron's arm.

'That scarf,' he said, in a very low voice. 'I've seen it before.'

'You mean...' said Harry.

Ron nodded. 'It's Pansy's,' he whispered. 'She was wearing it when she disappeared.'

Harry gaped at Ron for a moment, while Ginny clutched Harry's hand. Hermione, however, seemed to be heartened by this news.

'Pansy might still alive,' Hermione said softly, speaking to Ron. 'If you use that scarf maybe you'll be able to find her.'

Harry didn't hear anything else that Ron and Hermione said, though. His eyes headed back in the direction of the Slytherin table; Professor McGonagall stood off to the side with Professor Snape. They seemed to be discussing something intently, and then they looked at Ron. Harry turned back again, and saw Ron staring at McGonagall. Nothing needed to be said. When it could be done discreetly, McGonagall would hand the scarf to Ron.

Harry turned back to McGonagall but she had already moved off, and instead his eyes chanced to fall upon Theodore Nott. He was whispering something to Gregory Goyle.

All at once Nott looked up and met Harry's gaze; the Slytherin's cold eyes held Harry's for a long moment, and then his lip curled into a chilling smile.

* * *

Harry didn't see Ron or Hermione after dinner; Ron almost certainly was meditating over Pansy's scarf; Hermione had said she was meeting with Hopkirk again, to perform more tests with the potion samples they had brewed.

'Hopkirk says she wants to test it on you starting next week,' Hermione said.

'Great,' said Harry unenthusiastically. He knew he shouldn't be nervous about it--Hermione, after all, was involved in the process. But after his unsettling meeting with Hopkirk, in which she offered to write him a recommendation for his Auror applications, he didn't know if he liked the idea of drinking anything she had brewed. It was about as unnerving as drinking a potion Snape had put together.

And yet, he knew there was no choice. Hermione had mentioned feeling very 'hopeful' about the way the tests were going, although she did say she hated having to use mice.

In the meantime, Harry tried to focus on Ginny, and on Valentine's Day weekend. Some discreet asking around had led to Harry learning of a small restaurant in Hogsmeade, just off the High Street, called Fitzwilliam's, that, according to Seamus, was a good place to take a girl on a date. Romantic but not pretentious, and not all that expensive.

Then there was the little matter of a Halloween present. Harry went over and over the possibilities, but in the end, he decided a new pair of Quidditch gloves would do it--Ginny wasn't much for overly feminine gifts, and he remembered that she'd once eyed a pair in Quality Quidditch Supplies. He'd ordered her the gloves, and Hermione had wrapped them for him, tutting all the while that boys really needed to learn how to wrap gifts.

By the time Saturday morning came, Ron reported that he was 'getting there' with Pansy, but that he still couldn't pinpoint a location. He was certain, however, that she had indeed been taken, and that Death Eaters were keeping her somewhere, and that she was genuinely afraid, and looked weak and pale.

'They've taken her blood at least once,' he said, screwing up his face. 'Maybe that's why the scarf got all bloody.'

'Weird they didn't just send Malfoy her scarf from the get-go,' Harry said.

'Perhaps they just wanted to drive Malfoy even madder than he already is,' said Ginny, shaking her head.

'It's terrible,' said Hermione. 'He actually ran out of the Potions classroom yesterday. I think Nott and those two cretins were taunting him.'

'Yeah, well,' said Harry, 'if Nott has something to do with this, he's not saying so out loud. All he does is laugh, the sick tosser.'

At noon, Ron and Hermione joined the prefects, and a dozen Aurors, to supervise the Hogsmeade visit. Harry was amazed, frankly, that a visit to the village was even being allowed, after what happened to Anthony and Pansy, but the teachers must have decided that some level of normalcy would be easier on the students.

Of course, judging by the tight level of security, this visit to Hogsmeade was anything but normal.

Still, Harry and Ginny managed to make the best of it. It was freezing that day, so they bundled up well, and spent as much time as they could indoors. First at Fitzwilliam's, which Ginny declared was 'perfect.' Cozy, with a fire roaring in the fireplace, and soft music and, Harry was grateful to see, very few other couples in the place, and none of them Hogwarts students.

They ate a hearty lunch--Harry was relieved that Ginny didn't pick at her food but instead ate with some amount of gusto--and shared a piece of chocolate-raspberry cake. A man selling roses walked by their table, and Harry, feeling rather giddy, bought Ginny one.

She smiled and kissed him across the table, and then they exchanged gifts. Ginny appeared delighted with the gloves.

'Are you sure?' Harry said nervously. 'I know they're not all that romantic or anything--'

'They're wonderful, Harry,' she said sincerely, and she kissed him again, and he felt her happiness rush into him. Ginny then passed Harry a small box; he opened it to find a watch inside, except that it wasn't an ordinary watch. Its face was a miniaturized version of the Weasley clock, with the addition of his name and Hermione's as well as all the Weasleys.

'Wow,' said Harry. 'This is amazing.'

'You'll always know where I am that way,' she said, smiling. 'Not all that useful for telling time, but...'

'I love it,' said Harry. 'I love you.'

They spent the rest of the day moving from shop to shop, for the most part, except when they found a small alleyway here and there to kiss for several minutes.

In the late afternoon they wound up at The Three Broomsticks, and sat with Ron and Hermione over foaming mugs of hot butterbeer. The two of them looked tired and a bit irritable, owing, no doubt, to having to focus on Head Boy and Girl duties for much of the day instead of just spending time together. All too soon, it was time to head back to the castle, and reality.

It had been a lovely day; for a few hours, Harry was just a normal teenager on a date with his girlfriend. They held hands all the way back to the common room.

'You okay, Harry?' Ginny asked, squeezing his hand as other students came into the common room and began to mill about.

'Fine,' said Harry. 'I just...today was brilliant, and now...'

'I know,' said Ginny, smiling at him; she pressed her hand against his cheek.

* * *

A week later, Ron found the place where Pansy was being kept.

Harry didn't even learn of this until sometime after dinner; Ron had gone back to his room to meditate, but when he finally showed up in the common room two hours later, he'd already told McGonagall what he knew: Pansy was being held in France, as Anthony had been, but in a completely different part of the country, in the northern town of Rouen, at the old, abandoned town hall.

Ron said nothing else; the common room was too crowded to talk in any detail, anyway, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, Ron didn't look like he wanted to discuss it. He was highly agitated--more than Harry had seen him in a while--and kept pacing and worrying his large hands. Ron's face was pale and his eyes were positively haunted. Harry could only imagine what Ron must have seen in his vision; whatever it was must have been nothing short of horrid.

Hermione urged him to try doing some homework to take his mind off things; Ron surprised all of them by doing just that, but the set in his jaw didn't hide his anxiety, and his eyes looked haunted.

_He thinks she's dead,_ Harry thought.

At midnight, the four of them were all that was left in the common room, when the portrait hole creaked open.

Professor McGonagall came through, followed by Professor Snape, who looked pale as chalk. McGonagall's face was pinched and grave.

Ron's eyes widened, and he stood up slowly.

'They found her,' said McGonagall, her voice strained.

'And?' Harry asked, willing McGonagall to look him in the eye.

Instead, she looked at Ron; her face was sad and resigned.

'Miss Parkinson is dead.'

Ron let out a kind of choked sound, but then he nodded. Harry realized that Ron hadn't been expecting the news to be any different.

Hermione leapt up from the sofa and grabbed his arm, but he shrugged away from her, and began to walk away, his face frozen in shock.

'Ron...' Hermione whispered.

'Severus,' said McGonagall, 'please escort Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing.' She paused, and looked at Hermione, whose eyes were filled with tears, but who looked determined to keep it together.

'Take Miss Granger with you,' McGonagall added.

Professor Snape nodded, and went to Ron, placing a hand on his shoulder. Ron didn't even look at Snape, or acknowledge that Snape was steering Ron toward the portrait hole. Snape, for once, didn't look at all annoyed to be dealing with Ron. Rather, Snape's own face registered nothing but horror. Pansy was one of his students, and in his house. A Slytherin. And the Death Eaters had murdered her.

Snape, Ron and Hermione left the common room; Harry watched them go, feeling wretched.

'You two should go to bed,' said McGonagall tiredly, and she started to leave.

'Wait,' said Harry. 'Please...Professor. What happened...to Pansy?'

McGonagall paused, and took a deep breath.

'I suppose I can tell you,' she said. 'Miss Weasley will want to know, in any case, if she is to assist Mr. Malfoy in the coming days.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

'Mr. Malfoy has been made aware of...of Miss Parkinson's death,' said McGonagall. 'He's in the hospital wing, under sedation.'

Harry felt his shoulders sag.

'Miss Parkinson was tortured,' said McGonagall. 'Repeatedly. And...'

She took a deep breath.

'She was raped,' said McGonagall, her voice trembling. 'Repeatedly.'

'Jesus,' Harry whispered.

'Mr. Weasley saw part of this,' said McGonagall gravely.

Ginny sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. McGonagall regarded her sadly.

'He will take this very hard,' said McGonagall. 'Ron, I mean.'

There's an understatement.

'They're sure,' said Harry. 'That...that the girl they found is Pansy?'

'Her parents still need to make a positive identification,' said McGonagall. 'But as of now, yes, the French authorities are quite certain. The girl they found matches the physical description of Miss Parkinson in every aspect, and her injuries are consistent with...with what Mr. Weasley saw.'

McGonagall let out a sigh, but then straightened herself up to her full height and looked at Harry and Ginny.

'It's time for you both to turn in,' she said. 'Try to get some sleep.'

She turned on her heel and walked slowly from the common room; Harry and Ginny watched her go, and it was only when they heard the portrait of the Fat Lady creak shut that they looked at one another.

Ginny bit her lip as tears ran down her face.

'This is awful,' she whispered.

Harry didn't know what to say. It was awful. He'd never liked Pansy Parkinson. She was mean and small-minded and had been only too happy to go along with Draco Malfoy when he'd been doing all he could to make Harry's life difficult.

But her fate was so cruel, so violent...it made Harry feel sick just to think about it. Nobody deserved what Pansy had experienced.

Harry's voice got stuck in his throat. Instead, he pulled Ginny to him and held her while she cried softly. A few tears of his own leaked onto her red hair.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson's death made the front page of _The Daily Prophet_, with the news that her parents had positively identified her body, but the account was so sanitized that within half a day, rumors began to percolate throughout the school, each one more grisly than the last. Harry found himself yelling at three third-year Ravenclaws for gossiping about how Pansy had been cut up into little pieces and mailed to her parents that way. The third years tittered guiltily and hurried away.

Draco Malfoy didn't attend classes for a week; Hermione mentioned that he spent the entire time in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was so concerned for his mental state that she assigned an Auror guard to Malfoy, on suicide watch.

'You don't really think Malfoy would kill himself,' Harry whispered to Hermione one morning at breakfast.

'He might,' said Ginny softly.

Harry glanced at her and squeezed her hand. She smiled at him sadly. She'd been to see Malfoy a few times, to try and take away the worst of the agony, and it had taken its toll on her. She was exhausted, and always looked as if she were about to cry. Harry hated Mrs. Tonks and Madam Pomfrey for asking Ginny to help Draco. Even if Harry felt sorry for the git and wouldn't wish that kind of misery on anyone, he didn't like the idea of Ginny being put through hell one bit.

And yet Ginny, as usual, insisted it had to be done.

'I need to do this to get stronger,' she said. 'For you.'

Which meant, of course, that Ginny and Harry would be training soon, beginning in a few weeks. What had seemed like a good idea a few months ago now didn't appeal to Harry at all.

Ron, meanwhile, spent the week barely speaking. He threw himself into his work and that week got some of the best marks of his life; Harry couldn't remember a time when Ron had taken Head Boy duties quite so seriously; in Quidditch practices, Ron's focus was absolute, and his playing fierce. He hadn't spoken a word about what he'd seen happen to Pansy, and nobody, not even Hermione, asked him about it. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Ron had extracted those horrible pictures from his mind and dumped them into his Pensieve.

Their match against Hufflepuff was probably the most mournful Harry could remember. The late February day was bright, sunny and cold, and yet it had the atmosphere of a funeral. After the initial shock and rumors, her death seemed to sink in, and a renewed pall fell over the students. Harry might have been content to scrap playing the match at all, but for the fact that the distraction seemed to be helpful to Ron.

So Gryffindor and Hufflepuff played. Gryffindor won, but not easily. The Chasers were off that day, and Ginny played particularly poorly, although Ron played one of his best matches so far. When Harry caught the Snitch, Hufflepuff was up by seventy points.

Ginny's poor play put her in a terrible mood and later, alone with him in his dormitory, she ranted at Harry about all that had gone wrong; Harry wisely allowed her to vent her spleen, until she broke down and cried, and he held onto her. He hated that she had to see Malfoy and deal with this. Didn't she have enough to worry about?

Ginny's sobs subsided after a time and she looked at Harry sheepishly and apologized. He shushed her, and she kissed him, and before long, they were rolling about on his bed, pulling impatiently at their clothing. Harry remembered, just barely, to remove his glasses and to shut the bedcurtains and put up Silencing and Imperturbable Charms, and it went on for a while, until Ginny took Harry's hand and guided it where she wanted it.

'Are you sure?' he gasped.

'Yes,' she whispered. 'Please...'

Harry felt little stars exploding behind his eyes as he touched her; it was over quickly, and she came hard, and it was the most beautiful thing Harry ever saw, and he followed right after her. They lay still for a while, and when Harry regained some semblance of composure, he realized she had fallen asleep.

In sleep, Ginny's face softened; the lines of worry in her forehead disappeared.

_That's how she should look all the time. Peaceful._

Harry shifted and arranged her gently around him, pulling her close. She sighed and snuggled closer to him, and they slept.

* * *

Later that night, Ron finally seemed to come back to himself. Harry couldn't begin to know what had brought the change, but at dinner, Ron was at least partly his old, determined self. He kept his arm around Hermione all through the meal, and she smiled gently at him to the point that Ron had to remind her to eat.

'Okay, Ron?' Harry asked.

Ron looked at Harry for a long moment. 'Yeah,' he said. 'Firenze talked to me and...Hermione...I'm better.'

Harry could guess what Hermione's role in making Ron feel better entailed. The two of them were smiling at each other, in their own little world for a moment, and Harry didn't begrudge them that; he knew how it felt.

'How about you two?' Hermione asked, at last breaking away from Ron's eyes.

'Fine,' said Ginny, smiling softly. 'Well, I played like absolute shite today, but...we won, didn't we?'

'You didn't play like shite,' said Harry.

'Harry, you're sweet, but I was awful today,' said Ginny, grinning at him. Indeed, her mood was greatly improved. Harry tried not to laugh; he knew why she felt better.

'You look refreshed,' Ron commented wryly.

Ginny and Harry both blushed and exchanged looks.

'We...took a nap,' Harry said.

'A nap,' Ron repeated, but he let it go at that, and smiled and shook his head.

* * *

Things were not fully back to normal when Ron's birthday rolled around.

Draco Malfoy had returned to lessons. He seemed to be taking a similar approach to things that Ron had taken: he threw himself into his work. But Draco's eyes were haunted and bloodshot, and it was rumored that Madam Pomfrey had given him a powerful anti-depressant potion.

Ron, meanwhile, was training as hard as ever, in Quidditch practice, and especially in Tactile Sight. Firenze specifically wanted him to focus on Harry, so Ron asked Harry to borrow a piece of clothing. Harry gave Ron his favorite Weasley jumper, the old one with the dragon on the front.

'You want my knickers, too, Ron?' Harry joked.

'No thank you,' said Ron, shuddering. 'I might see you and Ginny...eugh.'

Harry blushed. 'We haven't...I mean...we're not...'

Ron held up his hands. 'I get it,' he said. 'You're not shagging my sister. But I assume at some point you will, and when you do, I don't want to know about it.'

* * *

Ron's eighteenth birthday was relatively quiet, which seemed to suit him just fine. They wound up having an impromptu party in the seventh year boys' dormitory. All the boys were there, along with Ginny, Hermione, Lavender, Parvati and Luna Lovegood, who sat demurely on Neville's lap.

Ron appeared overwhelmed when the seventh year Gryffindors announced they had pooled their money for his birthday gifts. The first thing was a brand new set of top of the line Quidditch gear.

'Wow, cool!' Ron breathed, as he pulled out the shiny leather padding and the bright crimson jumper. He held the jumper up to him and grinned.

'Thanks,' he said.

'It was Harry's idea,' said Dean.

Ron looked at Harry. 'Thanks, mate.'

He and Harry hugged, very fast.

'Kiss him!' Seamus yelled, snorting with laughter.

'Piss off, Seamus,' Harry and Ron said.

'Hey, I want a hug!' Dean joked.

'Okay,' said Ron, shrugging, and he half-hugged, half-tackled Dean, until they were both howling with laughter and wrestling on the floor. Very quickly, Seamus and Harry joined in. Neville stayed seated, looking a bit bewildered. Luna started to get up and gestured to him to join the pile, but he shook his head and pulled her back onto his lap with a goofy smile.

The girls all exchanged looks.

'Men,' they said, as one.

After a few more minutes of roughhousing, Ginny called a halt, and shoved Ron's other presents at him: there was a new jumper from Mrs. Weasley, blue this time.

'Finally, no maroon,' he said, pulling the jumper over his head.

There was also plenty of sweets from Ginny; baked goodies from Mrs. Weasley; a Muggle game from Mr. Weasley called Risk; a new book on Quidditch strategies from Charlie; another book from Percy, a biography of a famous Auror from the 19th century; a new set of plain black work robes from Bill, and from the twins, a few of their latest products, none of which Ron was willing to try.

'I don't want to blow up the room or anything,' he said.

Seamus and Dean then presented Ron with a bottle of Ogden's Private Label, and Neville conjured up glasses. Very soon, all but Hermione were sipping firewhiskey, but it was a measure of Hermione's good mood that the only thing she did was to lock the boys' door securely and remind them not to get too drunk.

Lavender and Parvati presented Ron with a bright orange t-shirt emblazoned with the legend 'Weasley Is Our King.' Ron blushed furiously when they both kissed him on the cheek.

'Can I kiss you on the cheek, too, Ron?' Seamus chuckled.

'I think Hermione might get jealous,' said Ron, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes and kissed him soundly on the lips, which brought a chorus of whistles.

'Hey, Hermione, aren't you going to give Ron his present?' Dean asked.

She turned to Dean and drew herself up to her full height.

'I will be giving Ron his gift in private,' she said, her voice full of dignity. Naturally, the entire room filled with laughter; Ron's ears went pink; even Hermione giggled and snuggled up to her boyfriend.

Harry watched it all with a kind of ache in his heart. It was good to see Ron laughing again; it was good to be in this room, celebrating a birthday.

And yet, Voldemort was still out there. Pansy was still dead. Harry still had to save the world.

* * *

The warm feelings brought by Ron's birthday party faded relatively quickly as March began in earnest. Harry was swamped, with lessons, filling out the Auror applications, keeping up with Quidditch practices, the whole lot. And next week, he would begin training with Ginny.

Defense Lessons became more and more difficult, but every student seemed that much more determined to do well. The pall of Pansy's death seemed to have lifted, and the students were approaching defense with unprecedented determination. Even Draco Malfoy seemed to grit his teeth and force his way through lessons, although Harry had to admit to himself that the Slytherin looked as though he might crack at any minute. He wondered how Draco was holding it together, really. Even with Ginny helping him, Draco was now truly, completely alone. Pansy had been his only friend.

It was on Wednesday that Hermione told Harry he would be needed to test the blood protection potion.

'Professor Hopkirk wants to see us all on Friday,' she said.

Harry nodded and grimaced. The more he thought about drinking the potion, the more uneasy he became. After all, the potion contained blood from Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

'That's nothing,' said Ron. 'You drank unicorn pee when you had to regrow your bones, remember? Well, it wasn't just unicorn pee, it was Skele-Gro, but it has unicorn pee in it.'

'Oh, yeah,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'Thanks for the reminder.'

'And don't forget, Harry,' said Hermione, 'last year you drank that potion Luna made, it had her blood in it.'

'Sometimes I think it's better not to know what's in the potions we drink,' said Ginny.

When Friday morning rolled around, Harry resigned himself to the fact that he'd be in for an uncomfortable evening. Hermione had warned that the tests on the mice with the potion showed the potion to be incredibly strong and produce an instant reaction in the drinker, but that the effect wore off after only a few minutes, leaving the drinker exhausted.

'We're still fine-tuning it,' she said, as they walked with Ron and Ginny to the Great Hall. 'But we can't use the mice anymore, they don't give us a clear enough picture.'

'Can't I just use Hopkirk's Shield Charm to protect myself?' Harry complained. 'She said I've got it down pat.'

'And what if your back is turned when a Death Eater strikes?' said Hermione. 'Shield Charms require constant vigilance. This potion could protect you even if you're distracted, or if you're fighting with someone else.'

'We're supposed to practice constant vigilance, anyway,' Harry countered.

'You know what I mean,' said Hermione.

Harry was about to say something else as they entered the Great Hall, but the sight that greeted them froze Harry's throat.

'Bloody hell,' Ron said, and his face broke into a grin.

'I can't believe it,' Hermione whispered, and she, too, was smiling. Harry was speechless. He felt Ginny grab his arm and give it an ecstatic squeeze.

Standing at the foot of the High Table, beaming at them, was Hagrid.

* * *

**A/N: Another chapter down. And yes, I have another cliffhanger, and the chapter probably runs on too long but, you know, be glad, because I was seriously considering ending it when McGonagall told the Quartet that Pansy was dead. I decided to make the chapter longer because there was more information I wanted to include, and I really wanted to end the chapter on a somewhat happier note, considering all the angst that's going on.**

**If some of you disagree with what I did with Pansy, well...sorry. I know it's disturbing, but Death Eaters are disturbing people. I do not intend to delve deeply into Ron's memories of what he saw, either, because if it disturbs Ron, well, it disturbs me even more. **

**I hope, too, that the changes in perspective aren't confusing. They are necessary right now and will almost certainly continue. Harry is the essential focus of this story--he is going to be very busy for the rest of the story--but Ron's insight and POV are also crucial to the way things will play out. **


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine: Hopkirk's Story

_Chapter Thirty-Nine: Hopkirk's Story_

Hermione was the first to break from the group; she burst into tears and ran to the front of the Great Hall, right into Hagrid's embrace. Ron and Ginny hurried after her, and Hagrid, giving a booming laugh, hugged them both in turn.

Harry followed in a daze; he could hardly believe that Hagrid was back, after being away so long.

'Harry!' Hagrid cried, and tears began to leak from his beetle-black eyes; he pulled Harry into a bone-crunching hug. Harry felt himself lifted off his feet.

'I'm so happy to see ye!' Hagrid said, laughing and crying at the same time.

'Me...too...' Harry gasped. 'Hagrid...can't...breathe...'

'Oh, sorry!' said Hagrid, letting go of Harry and setting him down.

'Hagrid, where have you been?' Hermione asked. 'We've been so worried about you, there was no word, nobody would tell us anything--'

'Now, Hermione,' said Hagrid, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially, 'I can' discuss that now. Come by the house tomorrow at lunchtime, and I'll tell ye everything.'

'Does this mean you're our teacher?' Ron asked eagerly.

''Course it does!' said Hagrid, beaming, as he wiped his eyes. 'Wilhelmina tol' me yer workin' on Spiketails. Well, I've got somethin' even better!'

'That's great, Hagrid,' said Harry, forcing a smile, because generally speaking 'better' creatures meant creatures more lethal.

'You lot,' said Professor McGonagall sternly, 'go eat your supper. Hagrid and I have things to discuss.'

'Yes, Professor,' said Hermione, who was practically glowing. Ron gripped her hand and tugged her along, grinning, as Hagrid sat down heavily next to McGonagall at the Head Table.

Harry was so relieved, so pleased at Hagrid's return that he hardly noticed the scowls from the Slytherin table, or the looks of disappointment on the other students' faces. In fact, Harry decided, he didn't care if Hagrid had brought a chimaera back with him. All that mattered was that Hagrid was back, and safe, and that finally, something was looking up.

* * *

'Have a seat, Potter.'

Harry swallowed as he sat down in a chair in the center of Professor Hopkirk's office. The room had been cleared of furniture, save for that chair and a cauldron, which simmered over a magical blue fire. The smell of copper was in the air. It was the smell of blood.

Hermione was standing next to Hopkirk, wearing a heavy apron and leather gloves; she had left dinner early to join Hopkirk in what Hermione called 'final preparations' for the first round of tests.

_Tests.__ Involving me. Drinking this stuff._

'You two,' said Hopkirk, nodding at Ginny and Ron, 'wands out.'

'Okay,' said Ginny slowly, and she withdrew her wand slowly from her robe pocket.

'Why?' said Ron.

'In case something goes wrong,' said Hopkirk calmly. 'This potion packs quite a punch; Potter won't know his own strength, if the tests on the mice proved anything.'

'Please, Professor,' said Ginny nervously. 'What exactly...does this potion do? I mean, what's the principle behind it?'

Hopkirk smiled her eerie smile, and turned to Hermione.

'Perhaps you'd care to explain it to them, Miss Granger,' she said.

Hermione nodded and licked her lips eagerly, and looked directly at Harry.

'Well, you know remember Professor Hopkirk and your mother were looking for a potion that was as powerful as _Sanguen__ generare_--blood sacrifice. A potion that could protect the drinker even against the Killing Curse,' Hermione explained.

Harry nodded. 'I remember.'

'Your blood is powerful,' said Hermione. 'Because of your mother's protection. Because of her blood sacrifice. That protection is still there--it lasts for your whole lifetime--but we don't know how strong it is anymore, if it could withstand another Killing Curse thrown by Voldemort.'

She paused, took a deep breath, and looked at Professor Hopkirk, who nodded.

'The potion we've been working on,' said Hermione, 'that is, Professor Hopkirk, Professor Snape and I, hopes to negate the need for _Sanguen__ generare_ altogether. The theory is that if we can harness the power of the ancient spell through a potion, the drinker will be fully protected, and no other blood sacrifice will be needed.'

She glanced at Ron, who was standing quietly with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn't looking at her, but at the cauldron.

Harry watched Hermione gaze at Ron for a moment; there was concern etched in her features, but then she felt Harry's gaze on her, and she cleared her throat and continued.

'The thing is,' she said, 'Voldemort's trying to do the same thing.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked.

'He's trying to find a way around blood protection spell,' said Hermione. 'Using the same principles as us, but...in reverse, if you will. Our potion contains blood freely given by all of us. Voldemort is taking blood forcibly from his victims. Blood that is freely given is marked by love. Blood that is forcibly taken is marked by fear and hatred. We believe he is trying to create a potion that will block the effects of the ancient blood spell.'

'But...wait,' said Harry. 'He took my blood, and...it's...it's got this blood protection on it, right? It's not marked by hatred--'

'Your blood is a special case,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'Lily's sacrifice marked it forever, as we've said. We must assume that Anthony Goldstein and Pansy Parkinson had no such magic applied to them. Particularly in Anthony's case, being that he is a Muggle-born, his parents are both living, and in any case, wouldn't know of ancient magic anyway.'

'So...he's trying to create a potion,' said Ginny slowly, 'so that if he hits Harry with the Killing Curse--'

'The curse will work,' said Hopkirk. 'He's operating on the same theory as we are: that a potion, based in blood, can be render the drinker more powerful than even the most ancient and potent of spells.'

'He's weak, though, isn't he?' said Ron. 'That's why he's kidnapping people, to get their blood.'

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'Harry's blood flows in Voldemort's veins. This puts us at a distinct advantage. Voldemort must not only create a potion that can overcome _Sanguen__ generare_ in the abstract; he must make that potion strong enough to destroy the effects of _Sanguen__ genarare_ in his own body. Harry has no such infection. His blood is already strong.'

For a long time, nobody said a word. Harry tried to absorb everything, but he was still, admittedly, a bit confused. He decided that rather than dwell on the particular theories, to ask a more direct question.

'What does this potion do when I drink it?' he asked.

'It's rather like a booster,' said Hermione. 'Theoretically the potion strengthens the organs and the cells and helps them resist damage. The drinker's magic and overall physical strength is also boosted.'

'The effect is temporary,' said Hopkirk. 'Very temporary, I'm afraid. The longest we've been able to make the effects of a single dose of the potion last was just under ten minutes. Not nearly long enough.'

'Can't I just take a higher dose, then?' said Harry.

'No,' said Hermione. 'Anything higher than the dose we're about to give you could be dangerous.'

'That's not to say we can't increase the dosage over time,' said Hopkirk. 'But you will need to adapt to it gradually.'

Hermione made a noise in her throat and pursed her lips.

'Ah,' said Hopkirk. 'Well, Miss Granger and I disagree on the issue of dosage. She is trying to come up with a single time-released dose. I have long maintained that such a thing is impossible.'

Hermione started to protest, but Hopkirk held up a hand and continued.

'But I am never too proud to be proven wrong,' she said, 'and Miss Granger has been given permission to seek out this alternative.'

'A time-released dose would provide sustained, controllable power for up to twelve hours, with fewer side effects, and it wouldn't be as hard on the body when the potion wears off,' said Hermione.

'Theoretically,' said Hopkirk coolly. 'In the meantime, let's get started with what we have. Potter, are you ready?'

Harry swallowed.

_Not really._

'Yeah, sure, I guess,' he lied.

'Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, gesturing to Hermione, who dipped a small flask into the gently simmering cauldron. She measured out a small, precise dose. The potion itself was thickly viscous and crimson and seemed to glow from within. The smell of copper became more pronounced.

'Here,' said Hermione, handing Harry the flask. 'Drink all of it,' she added, 'and slowly.'

Harry nodded and took the flask.

'Everyone stand back,' Hopkirk ordered, as Harry tipped the flask to his lips.

The silence in the room was charged as Harry downed the potion in a series of long, slow gulps. The initial taste on his tongue was the awful, coppery taste of blood, but the aftertaste was surprisingly sweet and clean. And yet, he found himself having to breathe heavily through his nose as the potion slid thickly down his throat.

He drained the flask and lowered it to find everyone else staring at him, their wands out, their faces anxious. Harry almost chuckled, but for several seconds, no one said a word.

'Well?' Hermione asked finally, her voice cutting the air like a knife.

Harry considered. For a potion that was supposed to make him stronger than Voldemort, he didn't feel all that different.

'I don't know,' he said. 'It doesn't seem to be doing--'

His attempt to finish his sentence died when the flask shattered in his hand.

Ginny and Hermione gave little shrieks as the glass splintered; Harry felt the warm trickle of blood on his hand, but in the next instant, he felt a surge, like electricity, course through his body. His scar flared painfully and he cried out, dropping shards of glass onto the floor. His hand dripped blood, and the pain...

'Harry!' Ginny cried, and her voice sounded oddly distant. Harry saw her start towards him but Hopkirk gripped her by the shoulder and barked, 'Stay back!'

Ginny obeyed, clutching her wand.

And then Harry heard more voices. Ron, Hermione, Ginny again...but that couldn't be, they were all in front of him, staring at him, fearful and wordless. And yet they were talking to him, Harry could hear them, and their voices were warm, so very warm...there was no more pain…

And then there were more voices. Hagrid, Tonks, Lupin, Dumbledore...

_Dumbledore?__ That's impossible, he's dead..._

But Dumbledore was talking to Harry, and then...so was Sirius, and James and Lily. They were all talking to him, and suddenly he saw them, plain as day, and they were all smiling at him, and Sirius was laughing his bark-like laugh, and they were still talking. Harry couldn't make out what they were saying, only that it was good, and Sirius's laugh was like music, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, and James and Lily were clinging to each other...

And Ron was there, and suddenly Harry was eleven, on the Hogwarts' Express for the first time, and he and eleven-year-old Ron were eating sweets and laughing; and then they were in the common room, just after they'd rescued Hermione from the troll; they had saved the Philosopher's Stone; Ginny was walking down the girls' staircase on Halloween night; she was sixteen and beautiful and dressed in white...

And...no, it couldn't be...it was. Hopkirk was there, smiling down at him, and it was a real smile, it was a smile he had never before in his life seen, not ever. She looked almost human; her clear blue eyes were sparkling with tears, and she spoke...he could hear her speak, her voice was warm, a good kind of warm...

'He's got your eyes, Lily.'

The images were lightning-fast, but Harry saw all of them clearly, sharply, and the happiness he felt was so complete, he felt tears in his eyes.

And then Harry felt something else entirely, layering itself on top of all this warmth and unadulterated joy.

Power. Not the kind of power he had felt in the past, when he was angry or scared. This was different: frightening, and yet Harry never wanted the feeling to end.

'Harry, look at me!'

Professor Hopkirk's voice penetrated the chorus of other voices in his mind; her voice was different this time, and Harry looked at her, she was there in front of him, solid and made of flesh and bone.

And in that moment she snarled, and her eyes flashed red, and her skin glowed, and she bared her fangs and lifted her left hand, that held her wand, and bellowed, in her unearthly demon voice: 'Crucio!'

Ginny and Hermione both screamed as the curse flew toward Harry; Harry grabbed clumsily for his wand to block it, but from somewhere far away his mother was talking to him, and he suddenly knew it would be okay, and he lowered the wand in his hand as the curse touched him...

It vanished with a flash of light and a rush of air so strong it sent Ron, Hermione and Ginny all stumbling backwards; only Hopkirk was able to stay rooted.

'Harry!' she called again, now in her normal, human form, with her normal, human voice. 'Disarm us!'

Harry raised his wand again, but Hopkirk shook her head and made a sweeping gesture with her right arm. Harry put his wand away and it was then that he noticed he was feeling something new: a strange, almost eerie calmness. His joy was nothing short of serene.

He lifted his right hand, copying the gesture Hopkirk had made, and yelled _'Expelliarmus!'_

There was another rush of air, and Ron gave a yells as his wand, along with Hermione's, Ginny's and Hopkirk's went flying away from them.

Hopkirk gave a triumphant shout.

'You see, Harry!' she yelled, her voice again penetrating the cacophony of beautiful voices in his mind. 'You see how it works?'

'Yes!' Harry cried, laughing uproariously. He had never felt so perfectly happy in all his life, so very--

His scar flared and he cried out as the pain squeezed him, and new voices came, unfamiliar ones. They were angry voices. Cold voices. Sad, desperate voices and their emptiness, their despair competed with the warm, happy voices in Harry's mind...

And then, new images: a cold, grey stone building in the middle of a squalid urban neighborhood that may or may not have been London...small boys in grey trousers and pressed white shirts standing next to neatly made cots...a stern, mean-looking man walking through the room, along the aisles of beds, glaring at the boys...the man had a rattan cane in his right hand, and he was tapping it against his left palm...a small, sullen-faced boy with black hair and glittering dark eyes...on the boy's tiny nightstand, a photograph, an unmoving, black and white photograph of a woman with shining long hair and a beautiful, open face...she was smiling...

And then there was another face, an impossibly pale, stretched, reptilian face with red slits for eyes and a gaping mouth, open in a silent scream...

'NO!'

The wave of power dissolved like an ocean wave crashing into Harry, and he collapsed onto his knees. It was over. The power, the joy, the hate, the warmth, the emptiness...

'Harry,' Ginny whimpered, and she crashed to the floor beside him, reaching for him.

'Don't...' he croaked, backing away from her. It would be too much for her, he knew it. Ginny bit her lip and tried again.

'Don't touch him,' Hopkirk snapped, stepping in front of Ginny. Ginny looked up at Hopkirk with a mixture of anger and desperation, but she backed away and stood up.

Harry looked up at Ginny, imploring her with his eyes to understand. He knew what she would have done, she would have tried to take away some of his exhaustion, but it would be too much for her now. Something about what he'd just experienced told him that Ginny wouldn't be able to handle this without getting badly hurt in the process. She looked at him long and hard, and nodded.

'How do you feel, Potter?' Hopkirk asked, her voice all business.

'Like shit,' said Harry bluntly, although that was putting it mildly. He felt, in fact, like he'd been playing Quidditch non-stop for a week.

'I'm okay,' he added insistently, when Hermione began to worry her hands. He got up slowly, every muscle in his body protesting. His knees started to give way, but Hopkirk was there, holding him up with her preternatural strength. The unpleasant heat she gave off might have otherwise made him shudder, but Harry was too drained to move.

After half a minute in which nobody spoke, Harry finally began to feel his strength returning.

'Better?' Hopkirk asked, stepping away from him.

'Yeah,' he managed, wiping his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his robes.

'Tell us how you felt,' said Hopkirk briskly, 'while you were under the influence.'

Harry looked at Ginny, and then at Ron and Hermione, and finally at Hopkirk.

'Powerful,' he said. 'And happy. Ridiculously happy, like...like someone had hit me with ten Cheering Charms or something. I heard voices...my mum and dad, Dumbledore, Sirius, and...'

Harry's voice drifted off for a moment, as he remembered something. 'All of you,' he finished. 'You were all talking to me.' He nodded to Ginny and the others, but settled his gaze on Hopkirk, who, for the first time that night, looked rather uncomfortable.

'What else?' she said, as if in an effort to get the conversation moving along.

'You were all talking,' he said, pinning Hopkirk with his gaze. 'And laughing and smiling. And I saw images, from the past. Good images, good...memories.'

Hopkirk, who had kept her eyes away from Harry, exchanged glances with Hermione, who looked troubled.

'You cried out in pain,' she said in a fretful voice. 'What was that?'

Harry closed his eyes for a moment; he didn't want to remember all the bad things he'd seen and felt, and yet, he knew he'd have to give the full accounting.

'I heard these other voices,' he said. 'I dunno who they were. Everything was cold, all of a sudden. And sad. I mean...really, really sad...and angry. And I saw this place...an old building...it was cold and there was a man, a cruel-looking man...he had this whip in his hand, and there were all these boys...one of them...a black haired boy...he had a photograph on his nightstand, a Muggle photo...'

Harry's voice trailed off again, as the revelation hit him.

'It was Tom Riddle,' he said. 'As a child. And then...Voldemort.'

For a moment, nobody said a word; again, the silence was so complete it seemed deafening.

Hopkirk was staring at him now, her blue eyes wide.

'What?' she managed. Indeed, Harry had never seen her look so amazed.

'I saw Tom Riddle,' he said, and then he felt suddenly nervous. 'What? Is that bad?'

Hermione and Hopkirk looked at each other again.

'This is...unexpected,' Hopkirk said.

'Unexpected,' said Hermione, logical.'

'Well, yes,' Hopkirk conceded. 'In fact, I can't believe either one of us didn't consider this...'

'We just didn't make that simple connection,' said Hermione, sounding frustrated. 'Oh! And it was completely obvious--'

'Hello!' Ron interrupted. 'Do either of you mind explaining what you're talking about?'

Hopkirk shot Ron a hard glare, and Ron swallowed.

'That is,' he amended, 'would you please inform Ginny and me--'

'--and me,' Harry interjected.

'--of what you are discussing,' Ron finished. 'Please. Professor.'

'Your connection with Voldemort,' said Hopkirk, looking at Harry. She ran a hand over her hair, looking irritated with herself. 'Of course. Harry, what you saw--those images of Voldemort's childhood as Tom Riddle--those were not things you should have seen.'

'Why not?' said Harry, now thoroughly confused.

'The potion is only supposed to show you images of your own life,' said Hermione. 'And only good images, and it should only be eliciting positive emotional reactions that relate directly to your past and present. By right, you shouldn't be seeing anything that has to do with Voldemort at all.'

'But you did,' said Hopkirk.

'And that's bad?' said Harry, but this seemed like a stupid question, because after all, when was anything related to Voldemort ever good?

'Actually, no,' said Hopkirk, taking a deep breath. She seemed to have calmed down a bit. 'We didn't even account for this, we were so focused on the success of the potion in the first place, after so many failed earlier attempts. But no, what happened isn't necessarily bad. In fact, this development is...very positive.'

'How do you reckon?' Ron asked.

'If Harry can tap into Voldemort's thoughts,' said Hopkirk, 'theoretically, he can use those images against him.'

'Really?' said Harry doubtfully.

'Of course,' said Hermione. 'Harry, don't you remember? All those times Voldemort got inside your head, tried to control you? He used pain and...and despair to weaken your defenses, didn't he? He filled your mind with as much agony as he could.'

'I remember,' said Harry darkly.

At this, Ginny gave a gasp. 'He'll try to do it again,' she breathed. 'He'll try to weaken Harry enough to kill him, just like he did, only now...he'll have a potion.'

'One that is the mirror image of this one,' said Hermione. 'Only his potion will have...the power of hate, I suppose. And anger and despair.'

Hopkirk held up her hand. 'Before we get too excited, we have to assume that if we know what Voldemort is up to, he knows what we're up to. Be it through...this spy in the school--'

'Or because he got a glimpse of it just now,' said Harry.

'So, what, Voldemort was testing his potion at the same time as Harry, just now?' said Ron dubiously.

Hopkirk shook her head. 'Of course not. He wouldn't have to test it--the potion itself heightens emotions. Harry and Voldemort share an emotional connection. All Voldemort had to do was sit there to detect some level of what Harry was feeling.'

'But if Harry saw into Voldemort's past,' said Hermione, 'then it means that just testing that potion must have caused him some level of pain. Don't you see? Voldemort might have been weak but he's been strong enough for a while to block Harry out completely, hasn't he, Harry? You've been trying Legilimency for months and you've gotten nowhere. But tonight you get a dose of the potion and it expands everything you're feeling into this...this pure energy and power. And suddenly you're seeing into his life.'

'Which means he saw into yours, and since he can't tolerate...the kinder emotions, he was hurt enough to let down his guard,' said Hopkirk.

'That's good, then,' said Harry.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk, 'but you do realize what this means. The testing of this potion will have consequences for you that Miss Granger and I hadn't considered. Apart from the extreme physical exhaustion, you risk opening yourself to Voldemort at a distance. Just as you collect information on him, he'll collect information on you. And he will use it to his advantage.'

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. 'We'd better not test this again, then, until we can find a way to block Voldemort from getting access. We'll have to tweak the potion.'

'Wait,' said Harry. 'This potion gave me all this power, right? It worked. I mean, I blocked Crucio just...standing there and I did wandless magic like it was nothing.'

'But Harry...' Ginny began.

'Look,' Harry said, addressing Hopkirk. 'You yourself said I need to adapt to this stuff gradually, right? Well, how can I do that if you stop testing it on me?'

'But Harry, if Voldemort can see your thoughts--'

'So I'll use Legilimency,' said Harry. 'And Occlumency, too. I'm good at both. I can try and get inside his head and block him out of mine. I'll do it while I'm under the influence of the potion. I've got all this extra power, right? I should be able to do Legilimency and Occlumency without any trouble.'

Hermione made a small sound in her throat; Ginny, at last, took his hand and squeezed it, and Harry felt concern radiating out of her skin. Ron, for his part, simply looked bewildered by it all. As though he understood all that was being said, and it had overwhelmed him.

'What you propose is incredibly risky,' said Hopkirk. 'The potion is stimulating the areas of the brain that control happiness and memory. Certain chemicals are released on a normal basis when one is happy or thinking of good memories. The output of those chemicals jump sharply due to the potion. But Legilimency activates different chemicals in the brain--chemicals that might conflict. And Occlumency activates a third set of chemicals within the brain. The effects of both while under the influence of the potion could be damaging, if not downright dangerous.'

'But what other choice do I have?' Harry asked. 'We don't know who the spy is, but at least we know that he or she has to sneak around and get past certain things in order to report back to Voldemort. I need to test this potion regularly in order to get stronger, but if I do it without protecting myself--without using Occlumency--I'm giving Voldemort a direct line into…whatever plans we make.'

'It would take a tremendous toll on you,' said Hopkirk.

'I've had Voldemort in my head for seven years,' said Harry, 'and I've faced him almost as many times. I've got to destroy him. He might be weak but that doesn't mean he can't finish me off. I've got to do this.'

He looked at Ginny, who was gazing at him with worry.

'I've got to,' he added, hoping that she understood.

Hopkirk and Hermione exchanged another look.

'There's no dissuading him, I presume,' said Hopkirk.

'No,' said Hermione, looking at Harry with a mixture of annoyance and admiration.

'Very well,' said Hopkirk at last. 'I think we've all seen enough for tonight. Miss Granger, you will, I trust, add the results to your copious notes?'

'Yes, Professor,' said Hermione.

'Right then,' said Hopkirk. 'You're all free to go. We'll revisit this again next week, same time.'

Ron took Hermione's hand; he looked anxious to leave.

'Come on,' he muttered. Ginny started to follow them out, and Harry was right behind her, but he turned back to see Hopkirk re-arranging her office and was reminded again of what he'd seen when he'd been under the influence of the potion.

'You go on ahead,' he told the others, 'and I'll catch up.'

'But…Harry…' said Ginny hesitantly.

'I'll catch up,' Harry repeated, and he took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. She was so worried for him; he smiled at her and tried to reassure her silently, through the touch of his skin on hers, and then he felt her relax, if just slightly.

'Okay,' she said. 'I'll see you back in the common room.'

And with that, she, Ron and Hermione left.

Harry turned back to Hopkirk. She was apparently so focused on levitating her desk back into place that Harry figured she didn't realize he was still there. But then she spoke.

'I thought I told you you could go, Potter,' she said, not turning around as she levitated her chair into place.

'I need to talk to you,' Harry said, with more conviction than he actually felt.

She turned and faced him, looking impassive, and yet here eyes flickered away from him.

'What about?'

'I saw you,' he said, approaching her desk slowly. 'When I was…under the potion. You spoke, you were talking to my mother. You said I had her eyes.'

Hopkirk let out a breath and gave him an annoyed look. 'Yes,' she said. 'And that's important because…why?'

'Who are you?' Harry demanded, feeling a rush of frustration. 'Seriously. I know you were friends with my mum. I know why you didn't tell me who you were beforehand. Or at least I think I knew. But…you saw me when I was a baby. Where? In hospital? In my parents' house? How is it you were so close to my mum and nobody, not even Sirius, even mentioned you?'

Hopkirk gazed at Harry for a long moment, and her blue eyes darkened slightly. He realized that she was sad. She turned away from him.

'It was agreed,' she said at last, 'that nobody would tell you about me.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked. He felt a sudden tension in the air, a shift that had nothing to do with the way Hopkirk was rocking back and forth on her heels.

'Before you were born, your mother approached me with a question,' she said. 'A favor. James had already asked Sirius, you see, and Lily felt it was only proper…'

Her voice trailed off, and she turned and looked at Harry; Harry felt his stomach drop out from beneath him.

'You…my mum…she asked you…' he stammered. 'Are you…my godmother?'

Hopkirk smiled wryly. 'No,' she said. 'But it wasn't for a lack of your mother asking.'

Harry stared at Hopkirk. 'Why?' he finally managed. 'Why would my mother--'

'Ask a succubus to be her only son's godmother?' Hopkirk finished. She laughed bitterly. 'Lily Evans Potter was the kindest woman, the kindest _person_ I ever knew. The bravest, the most principled. But she was a damn fool about certain things.'

Hopkirk paused; she seemed to be gathering herself to continue.

'Your mother had blinders on where I was concerned,' she said at last. 'She couldn't understand that there was nothing she could do to…to unmake what I was.'

'I don't understand,' said Harry.

'Do you know how your mother and I became friends?' said Hopkirk. 'Have you never wondered how your mother could have become friends with someone like me?'

'The thought did cross my mind,' Harry admitted.

Hopkirk smiled at him again; it was a smile devoid of mirth.

'I came back to England just after finishing school,' she said. 'I won't bore you with the nearly operatic tragedy that was my childhood. Suffice it to say that a child like myself wasn't made to be loved by a mother. She rejected me the moment I left the womb. I spent my childhood in a Ministry facility for half-breed children of...difficult disposition. It was determined by those in charge that I should not go to Hogwarts; the Board of Governors would not have wanted a demon child in their midst. Dumbledore tried to intervene--like your mother he had soft ideas about people. But Durmstrang was only too happy to take me.'

'You...you learned the Dark Arts there,' said Harry.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'I learned how to use dark magic. I was quite astute at it, in fact. In retrospect Durmstrang was the best place for me. I was...well, not exactly happy, but content enough there. My...background was kept quiet; only a few select teachers and the headmaster knew. But those who did know were thrilled to have such a capable student. I was only a child when Voldemort started his campaign of amassing his army of Death Eaters and dark creatures. I was still in school when I was...approached by a teacher, a Death Eater who has since met an unfortunate but not altogether surprising end.'

'You were recruited,' Harry said, feeling his gut twist at this revelation.

'Oh, yes,' said Hopkirk. 'Voldemort wanted people like me on his side, you see. A dark creature, and someone like me--angry at the world, lonely, bitter...People like me hated wizarding society, the way it discriminated against our kind. I was a ripe target for someone like Voldemort.

'I worked for him for almost a year, in Romania. He wanted as many dark creatures on his side as he could get. Giants, vampires, werewolves, demons. Did you know, Potter, that vampires and werewolves are natural enemies? It's true. And yet Voldemort wanted them, both species, on his side. There were whole werewolf colonies in Eastern Europe--underground societies that promote bloodsport and the hunting of humans--and of course there's never been a shortage of vampires in that region, either. Voldemort made them grandiose promises of power and territory if they agreed to put aside their age-old feud and work for him. I helped to recruit them.'

She paused and looked away; she appeared, for a moment, to be lost in memories.

'What happened,' Harry asked slowly, 'to make you...change sides?'

'That is personal,' said Hopkirk, her voice hard. 'But it was terrible enough for me to realize that supporting Voldemort's cause was something I could no longer do. Of course, I couldn't just hand in my resignation. I fled Romania and came back to England, and I sought out Dumbledore.'

'And he helped you,' said Harry.

'Of course,' said Hopkirk. 'Dumbledore had always had a thing about second chances.'

Harry pursed his lips and thought of Snape, and of Hagrid. 'Yeah, I know,' he said. 'What did Dumbledore have you do?'

'He introduced me to your mother,' said Hopkirk. 'Do you know what she did when she was alive, when she was working for the Ministry?'

'She was an Unspeakable,' said Harry. 'Her letters...and those messages, those codes she exchanged with you...she was doing some kind of bloodwork.'

'Do you know why?'

'To do what you and Hermione have done,' said Harry.

'It was more than that,' said Hopkirk. 'She was trying to recruit dark creatures.'

Harry felt his stomach plummet again.

'That's impossible.'

'I assure, it's not,' said Hopkirk. 'Dumbledore knew then, as he did this time around, that Voldemort would actively seek out an army of dark creatures. Dumbledore was determined, as much as he could, to get some of those dark creatures on his side. He'd lost the giants by then, they were working for Voldemort and tearing apart small villages all throughout Eastern Europe and Asia, killing everything in their paths; the goblins weren't helping out much; the werewolves were all in hiding, and vampires...the ones who hadn't joined up with Voldemort were underground. He'd tried to reach out to them but they didn't trust a human, and anyway, sending a human, even an armed one, into a coven of vampires, even ones who weren't on Voldemort's side--is a foolish thing to do. Your mother never would have lasted five minutes in a vampire's cave. So he had me to go to them. Ironic, isn't it? I was doing the same job, but for Dumbledore instead.

'I must admit, it wasn't what I had in mind,' she continued. 'I came back to England with grandiose thoughts of vengeance. But Dumbledore made me his messenger to the vampires in and around London, and I saw something in them that I had never seen before.'

'What?'

'Desperation,' said Hopkirk. 'Do you know what life is like for a vampire? He is constantly hungry. No amount of blood will ever fully satisfy him. The longer a vampire goes without feeding, the weaker he gets. He can never look into the sunlight, or feel it on his skin. He can never taste food...he only cares for blood. There is no rest for him, no peace. That is what I found. These vampires didn't want power. They wanted salvation.'

Harry swallowed. 'But...I thought...there's no way to...I mean, no cure...you'd have to kill a vampire--'

'To give him peace?' said Hopkirk. 'Yes, that's what I thought. But your mother had other ideas. She thought she could come up with a way to reverse vampirism. To lift the curse of the undead.'

'No kidding,' said Harry weakly. Nothing in his parents' letters, or the codes, even hinted at this. Harry had always assumed his mother's research was for the benefit of humankind, not vampires. And then something occurred to him.

'The Ministry knew about this?' he asked.

'Of course not, are you mad?' Hopkirk scoffed. 'The Ministry, trying to cure vampires? As far as the Ministry was concerned, and still is, vampires are to be feared and held in contempt. They'd no sooner waste resources on curing them than they would on seeking a cure for lycanthropy. No, your mother's work was for the Order. She came upon it by accident, too--her official work was on blood diseases. That's why Dumbledore approached her. Since blood is everything to vampires--blood is what creates them, makes them what they are--he thought perhaps Lily could come up with something to help the vampires.

'I was her entry into their world; they trusted me. I wasn't one of them but I was still an outcast like them. Demons and vampires have a...natural affinity, if you will. I collected blood samples from them and brought the samples to her, for testing, for manipulation. I helped her in her research. There was never any shortage of volunteers, either. These vampires...they thought if they could go back to being fully human, if they could be _normal_, then the laws and society wouldn't punish them anymore. Dumbledore had been trying to get the laws dealing with magical creatures changed, but the Ministry wasn't interested, not with Voldemort out there wreaking havoc. This was an alternative. If the laws couldn't be changed, then perhaps vampires could be.'

'Wow,' said Harry. 'That's...insane. My mum...and my dad never knew?'

Hopkirk shook her head. 'It was a pre-condition of Lily being able to take on the project in the first place. She couldn't tell James. It was for his own safety, too, and rest assured, there were secrets he kept from her, too, for the same reason. I'd tell you what they were, but I didn't know your father well enough for him to confide in me; Sirius Black was his confessor. In any case, secrecy was vital, and your mother took a tremendous risk. Had the Ministry found out what she was doing, she would have been sacked and arrested.'

Harry let out a breath. It was overwhelming, all this information. He thought back to the coded messages, those brief, cryptic missives his mother and Hopkirk had shared.

'She tested your blood, too,' he said suddenly. 'I remember.'

Hopkirk looked away. 'Yes, she did,' she said at last. 'I have vampire blood in me; she thought she could come up with another potion that might help me.'

'You mean, to...to cure you of...of being...' Harry broke off.

'A demon,' said Hopkirk, her eyes still distant. 'No. There is no way for me to ever change what I am. I was born like this. A monster.'

And then her cold blue eyes filled with tears. Harry felt a stabbing in his gut, and for the first time since he laid eyes on her, he felt sorry for Griselda Hopkirk.

Hopkirk took a breath and turned her back to him, wiping impatiently at her face.

'Your mother helped me as much as she could have,' said Hopkirk. 'She never did find a way to reverse vampirism--it was a source of endless frustration for her, right up until she died. But she helped me. The potion she came up with kept me in control, feeling more...human. It was her gift to me.'

'For what?'

'I helped her,' said Hopkirk simply. 'And your father. Voldemort had already tried twice to kill them, but they escaped. The third time...your mother was pregnant with you. Voldemort took out a street full of people to get to her, and your father, but I was with them. I helped them get away. I actually didn't do very much, in hindsight, but you wouldn't have known it to listen to Lily talk. As far as she was concerned, I had saved her life, and her husband's life, and the life of her unborn child.'

Hopkirk paused again, and turned to look at Harry; her eyes were clear now, though slightly red-rimmed.

'Your mother worked constantly to help me,' said Hopkirk. 'Not just through magical science and potion making. She tried to include in her life as much as she could. It didn't matter to her that I was...what I was. She didn't care about...the things I'd done or the people I'd hurt. And then she made that potion for me...I was as happy as I could ever have hoped to be, thanks to her.'

'That's why you tried to make that potion back then,' said Harry. 'To...save my mother from Voldemort.'

'Your parents went into hiding in 1981, about six months after you were born,' said Hopkirk. 'They had a Secret Keeper, but I think, deep down, Lily knew Voldemort would catch up to them eventually. I knew about _Sanguen__ generare_, and Lily told me she would go to Dumbledore and ask for his help in using it to protect you. But I knew there had to be another way, a way that didn't require your mother to die for you. So I began working on a potion of my own, using some of the same principles I'd picked up from your mother, who was so brilliant with bloodwork. Needless to say, I didn't complete a successful formula in time.'

Harry swallowed again, and felt a lump in his throat. The look on Hopkirk's face was not simply one of sadness, but of aching guilt.

'Your mother,' she said, 'foolishly asked me to be your godmother. She actually believed a creature like myself was an appropriate guardian for a child. It was utter madness.'

Hopkirk shook her head. 'As I said, your mother was naive about certain things. I refused, of course. She took it a bit hard, but...in the end she accepted my decision. She never got around to asking anyone else, though. By that time James had already asked Sirius Black to be your godfather, and he agreed. Lily did manage to get me to agree to...watch after you from a distance. She could be annoyingly persuasive when she wanted to be.'

Hopkirk smiled as she said this, and her voice carried the color of fondness, even affection in it. But then her features darkened, and Harry shuddered as her blue eyes, for just a split second, flashed crimson.

'After Voldemort murdered them, and Sirius was framed...I wanted revenge,' she said. 'I wanted to spill the blood of those who had betrayed Lily. I killed six Death Eaters that night. I didn't know who they were. I didn't care.'

She lifted her eyes to Harry's; they were brilliantly red now, and she was breathing hard through her nostrils.

'I laid them to waste,' she said, her features curling into a sneer. 'And I would have kept on killing...'

At this her red eyes faded to blue again.

'...but the blood I spilled did not bring back my friend,' she finished. 'I disappeared after that. I couldn't possibly fulfill the promise I'd made to your mother. Dumbledore knew it. He didn't come after me.'

'Until...until last summer,' said Harry, struggling not to shiver.

'Until last summer,' said Hopkirk. 'Dumbledore told me all that had happened, though I'd been following some of the news. I knew it was impossible to stay hidden. I owed it to your mother to fulfill my promise to her. And I figured...you were old enough, and had been through enough, to be able to handle it.'

She paused, and looked at him full in the face, and suddenly Harry felt it, a wave of longing in her eyes that seemed to radiate from her skin. Longing, tempered by fierce control.

'Do you understand now, Harry, why I kept myself hidden from you?' she asked, her voice suddenly smooth as caramel. Harry shivered, and tried to look away, but his eyes were frozen on her pink mouth. The power of her seduction was like a heady drug...

'Even now, I am a danger to you,' Hopkirk said, gliding toward him slowly like a cat. 'It would not take much for me to forget myself, and my promise to your mother, for the pleasure of taking your soul. I could feed off your life-force for years to come, and you would not only be powerless to stop me, you'd beg me to take you.'

She licked her lips, and Harry let out a strangled cry, and backed away. He was as painfully aroused as he was terrified.

'You see,' said Hopkirk, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry nodded. 'I see,' he managed.

'It is only because of your mother, and the potion I take, that I don't...give in to myself,' said Hopkirk, stepping back slightly. 'It is only because you are Lily's son and you are destined to destroy her murderer, that I am here at all.'

* * *

Harry walked back to the common room in a daze. He found Ginny, Ron and Hermione all there, making a half-hearted attempt to study and failing miserably at it.

The common room was, otherwise, thankfully empty. Ginny leapt up from the sofa and crossed the room to him.

'What kept you?' she asked, worry in her voice. She took his hands in hers, and grimaced. 'You're upset.'

'Was it Hopkirk?' Ron asked at once. 'She didn't...try anything, did she?'

'I need to sit,' said Harry, and he did, on the sofa, with Ginny on one side and Hermione on the other. Ron sat in the chair diagonally facing them.

'Harry, what is it?' Hermione asked urgently.

He told them. Every last piece of information, all of it still clear as crystal in his mind. By the end of his recitation, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were all gaping at him, open-mouthed and speechless.

It was Ginny who finally broke the silence.

'Merlin,' she breathed.

'You can say that again,' said Ron.

'The poor woman,' Hermione whispered.

Ron gawked at her. 'What? The "poor woman"? Did I just hear you right?'

'Yes, Ron,' said Hermione impatiently. 'I feel sorry for her, don't you?'

'Yeah,' said Ron sincerely. 'I do. I just...well, this is a complete turn-around for you, isn't it?'

Hermione rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him.

'She's scary,' said Harry finally. 'But...she's completely alone. My mum was her only real friend.'

'How is it,' Hermione mused, 'that Hopkirk didn't...well, why didn't she...you know...feel compelled to...act like herself around your mother?'

'You mean why didn't Hopkirk want to have sex with my mum and steal her soul?' said Harry, screwing up his face. 'I don't think Hopkirk gets her kicks out of girls, Hermione. Unless she's been coming onto you and you haven't told us.'

'Has she?' Ron asked nervously.

'Of course not,' said Hermione, throwing up her hands. 'Really, Ron. She's been fine to work with. Well, not fine. But you know what I mean.'

Nobody said anything for a few minutes; Harry was so utterly drained, he felt like his bones might actually melt into the sofa, but then Ginny took his hand again and he felt her gentle strength flowing into him.

Not long after that, Ron and Hermione turned in; Harry and Ginny went upstairs to ready themselves for bed; fifteen minutes later, Ginny crept silently into the seventh year boys dormitory, and slid into bed next to Harry, into his waiting arms. He slept a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N: I meant to include more in this chapter--specifically, what Hagrid has been up to. But in the end I realized that including Hagrid's stuff meant overloading the chapter with information, and in any case, once I got to writing, this chapter quickly became the sole property of Griselda Hopkirk. Her information is too important to the overall story; it had to stand on its own.**

**I do promise to address Hagrid's business in the next chapter, and it will have a Ron POV for at least the first half, if not all of it. We need to find out what Ron has been seeing since he started doing Tactile Sight with Harry's clothes, after all. **

**Thanks, as ever, to Buckbeaky and lina.**


	40. Chapter Forty: The Second Strike

_Chapter Forty: The Second Strike_

'Come in, come in,' said Hagrid jovially, when, the next morning, Ron, Harry, and Hermione appeared at his door. Ginny was in an early morning meeting with Mrs. Tonks.

They entered the hut, and Fang the boarhound barked happily and immediately set to licking Ron's face when he sat down; the dog then bestowed sloppy kisses on the cheeks of Harry and Hermione.

'Have you lot had breakfast?' Hagrid asked cheerfully. 'I made some crumpets and homemade jam.'

Ron exchanged a look with Harry. It was, by and large, never a good idea to accept any of Hagrid's cooking, but they had all skipped breakfast, so anxious were they to talk to the half-giant and find out what he'd been doing for the past several months.

'No, we haven't eaten,' said Hermione.

'Well, then,' said Hagrid, 'just relax. I've got tea on, too.'

He served them plate-sized crumpets with gloppy jam whose color was indiscriminate, and huge mugs of tea. At least Hagrid's tea was drinkable, if strong.

Ron bit gingerly into the corner of a crumpet; it was hard as a rockcake, but he gamely chewed the dry, sandy thing and swallowed, with great difficulty. He wasn't even sure he could manage the jam, which looked and smelled distinctly unappetizing.

'Okay?' Hagrid asked eagerly, picking up his own crumpet.

'It's good,' Ron croaked, taking a gulp of tea. Hagrid beamed, and Hermione and Harry each began to nibble at their own crumpets, taking many sips of tea in between.

'So, Hagrid, tell us where you've been,' Harry said, after about a minute of difficult eating.

'Well,' said Hagrid, polishing off his crumpet and picking up another, 'I can't tell ye everything, a'course. But Dumbledore asked me to...'

At this Hagrid broke off, and his beetle-black eyes filled with tears. 'Grea' man, Dumbledore,' he said. 'I heard abou'...abou' him when I was in France with Olympe. Jus' wish I coulda been here to...to...'

His voice dissolved into sobs. Harry and Ron exchanged stricken glances. It was never easy to watch Hagrid break down, but now he was crying about Dumbledore, and Ron felt a lump in his own throat. Hermione bit her lip and looked to be fighting tears of her own.

Harry took a deep breath and put a hand on Hagrid's massive shoulder.

'He went quietly,' said Harry softly. 'It was peaceful, he wasn't in pain...or anything.'

'R-really?' Hagrid asked.

'Really,' said Harry.

Hagrid pulled from his shirt pocket a handkerchief the size of a bath towel, and blew his nose.

'Tha's good, then,' he said, struggling to pull himself together. 'Lived a full life, did Dumbledore. 'Grea' man...wizarding world won' be the same without him.'

There was silence for a full minute; it seemed appropriate to Ron, this silence, this pause to remember the old Headmaster.

Hermione spoke first, quickly wiping her eyes. 'Hagrid...you were saying...about your trip...'

'Oh, righ', said Hagrid, stuffing the handkerchief back in his shirt pocket. Ron grimaced but said nothing.

'Well, as I was sayin',' said Hagrid, 'Dumbledore wanted me to make another try with the giants. Woulda done more about las' year but Dumbledore said he needed me here back then. This time, though, Dumbledore said You-Know-Who would be startin' to really gather his followers together. Said time was runnin' out, and I had to do whatever I could, take whatever time I had to, to fin' some giants. I even got special dispensation from the Ministry to use magic. Olympe came with me for that part of it, bless her. Wen' back to Russia first, to the mountains--took the same route we did that las' time. Figgered we should check that area where Golgomath and his lot were.'

'You confronted Golgomath again?' Harry asked.

'No, no,' said Hagrid. 'Tha's just it. When Olympe and I got there, we dint find Golgomath or that crew. There was just bodies.'

Hermione gasped. 'Bodies?' she repeated.

'Dead giants,' said Hagrid heavily. 'Dead a long time, by the looks of 'em. Just bones and the rags they'd been wearing.'

'Golgomath's...crew?' Ron asked.

'I can' be sure,' said Hagrid, 'but I don' think so. I mean, Golgomath had gotten pretty friendly with Macnair all tha' time ago, and if I had to guess, Golgomath woulda left the area by then and followed Macnair to where You-Know-Who wanted 'em to go. No, I don' think it was Golgomath. I think...it musta been those giants Olympe and I talked to in those caves. The ones who opposed Golgomath. There weren' tha' many of 'em, just five or six of 'em. Giants can manage in groups tha' small, so I don' think they killed each other. I think...it had to have been Golgomath himself who had his crew finish off those giants.'

'Not Death Eaters, then?' said Ron.

'Coulda been them, too,' said Hagrid. 'But it's tough work, killin' a giant wi' magic. And we saw blood on those dead giants' clothes.'

Hagrid sighed and took a gulp of tea.

'Olympe and I figgered we weren't gonna fin' any other giants around there,' he said. 'We buried what was left and moved on. Spent the summer goin' through Russia, then headed back west.'

'You didn't find any giants at all?' said Ginny.

'We found some,' said Hagrid, his voice sad.

'Dead,' said Harry.

'Good lord,' said Hermione. 'Voldemort's killing off the giants he can't recruit, isn't he?'

'Looks tha' way, and he's using other giants to do the killin'. The bodies we foun' in Switzerland were a lot...fresher. What'd been done to that lot weren't magic. Those bodies were torn apart.'

Hermione inhaled sharply and let out a breath. 'And...and the giants are just...killing their own kind? Because Voldemort told them to?'

'Oh no,' said Hagrid. 'It don' work like that, Hermione. No human, especially no wizard, can force a giant to do somethin' he don' wanna do. No, I'm guessin' there was a lot more gift givin' to whichever Gurgs were friendly-like to the Death Eaters, and all the Death Eaters had to do after that was convince the Gurgs that certain giants were a threat, and the giants woulda taken it from there. Don' take much to rile a giant up, see.'

Hagrid took another gulp of tea. 'It was like that everywhere I wen',' he went on. 'Olympe had to go back to France to start up at Beauxbatons, but I kept lookin' around. Spent a few months goin' through Switzerland, then Austria, then Germany. Snow on the groun' in those mountains even in September. I finally foun' a few live ones, though, in the Black Forest.'

'And?' Hermione asked.

'They listened to me,' said Hagrid. 'Spoke a bit of German, one of 'em, but I don' speak a word of tha', so we had to kinda do a lot o' gesturin' and what do unnerstan' each other. Only three of 'em, two females and a male. Made some pretty good progress with 'em, though. They seemed friendly enough, anyway. Tol' me they'd come back wi' me, if it meant gettin' more gifts. So they came with me, only...' He sighed again, and shook his head.

'We were set upon by another group o' giants. They killed the male, and one of the females. I had my wand wi' me but...there were eight of 'em, all males, all lookin' to kill. I grabbed the other female and Apparated out o' there.'

'You Apparated?' said Hermione, clearly impressed. 'Really?'

'Yeah,' said Hagrid. 'Well, jus' 'cause I got expelled in third year don' mean I stopped studyin' magic. After I got dispensation from the Ministry to use magic I started practicin' it a bit. Just over short distances.'

'Where did you go this time?' Ron asked. 'With...the female giant?'

'Dunno,' said Hagrid. 'Amazed I didn't splinch myself, or the girl I had wi' me, to be honest. I remember jus' thinkin' about Apparatin' somewhere safe. I can' be sure but I'm guessin' we just wound up in a different part o' the forest.'

'What then?' Harry asked.

'Well, the giant girl, she was beside herself, poor thing,' said Hagrid. 'Took a bit o' time, calmin' her down. But she seemed grateful to me, for savin' her. I knew we had to get out o' there quick. Couldn't be discreet anymore about travelin', not with rampagin' giants loyal to You-Know-Who on our trail. So me and the girl--Mawg's her name--we took to Apparatin' from place to place. It was nerve-wrackin', I'll say that much. I'm not too good at Apparatin', and I could never be sure if I'd land in a place full o' Muggles or wind up fallin' off a cliff. But there weren' any other way to do it--all the Floo networks are restricted these days and makin' a Portkey on short notice is not somethin' I can manage. And we had to go slow, seein' as I wasn't sure how much distance I could cover Apparatin' without causin' a disaster. We were lucky, though, on tha' score.'

'Did you find any other giants?' Ron asked.

Hagrid shook his head. 'None that would talk to us,' he said sadly. 'Word's gotten out by now, I 'spect. Them that don' join up with You-Know-Who are sittin' ducks. Our side shoulda been more aggressive about gettin' giants when we had the chance...Dumbledore tried to convince the Ministry to send a team, but...they had to deal with all those scientists goin' missin' las' year, and this year, with Lucius Malfoy gettin' away, and students gettin' snatched up...I heard abou' Pansy Parkinson. Terrible thing, that.'

Ron swallowed and looked down at his feet. He hadn't talked about what he'd seen the night Pansy had been killed. He'd ripped the images from his mind and shoved them into the Pensieve. Hermione had, to her eternal credit, raised the subject only once, asking him if he wanted to talk about it. When he'd said no, she dropped it. He knew she wasn't looking at him in curiosity, then, but in concern. Pansy's death had affected him, Hermione knew. But she would never know how much. He would never let Hermione see the horrible images that had plagued his mind when he'd clutched that bloody scarf in his hands, would never expose Hermione to Pansy's pathetic screams and sobs as the Death Eaters had torn at her clothes and laughed...

'Ron, you all righ'?'

Ron blinked and looked up at Hagrid.

'I'm fine,' Ron said at once. 'Sorry.'

He glanced over at Harry and Hermione, who watched, but they said nothing to him. Instead, Hermione turned to Hagrid and said gently, 'Go on.'

'Righ',' said Hagrid. 'Anyway, I reckon we jus' waited too long to go back. Word got roun' abou' You-Know-Who faster than we expected. The giants prolly never had much of a chance to decide. And the killins'...tha's just You-Know-Who's preferred method for dealin' with folks who don' go along with him. Mawg stuck with me--I think she was too scared by then to do anythin' else, and she's actually pretty gentle, for a giant. She traveled wi' me all aroun', lookin' for other giants, but the only ones we foun' were either dead or dint want to speak wi' us. Best I could do was leave Dumbledore's name and tell 'em why we'd come. But then Dumbledore, he...well, by then word got out about Dumbledore passin' and that...that prolly sealed the deal for the giants. Even some o' them knew Dumbledore was the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared. With him gone...'

Hagrid's voice broke off, and his eyes filled again, but he took a few steadying breaths and continued.

'I took Mawg back to France wi' me,' he said. 'At the Christmas holiday. We'd been moving abou' from place to place, tryin' to find giants, but by then...it was clear we weren't getting anywhere. An' Mawg, she was tired and cryin' a lot. I took her to Olympe; I dint know where else to bring 'er. Even though I figgered it was prolly pointless, I wanted to keep trying to find a few more giants. If I could just get a hold of a few...Olympe, bless her, took Mawg in. I'd taught the girl a bit o' English by then, and she was pretty calm, really, but Olympe tol' me she'd look after her for a while, let me finish out my mission. She's somethin', that Olympe.'

Hagrid smiled wistfully for a moment, and then continued.

'Anyway, I went over to Spain, up in the Basque mountains. Foun' a couple more of 'em there but it was the same story: they dint wan' to take sides if they could help it. I tol' 'em it was only a matter o' time before other giants came and fought 'em, but they was adamant. I couldn't force 'em to go along wi' me, even if I wanted to. I dint wan' to give up, but...I jus' wasn't gettin' anywhere. Then I got an owl from McGonagall. I knew it had to be serious if she was sendin' me an owl, takin' the risk of it gettin' intercepted. She gave me another assignment. Movin' unicorns.'

'Unicorns?' said Harry. 'Why would you need to...'

His voice trailed off. 'Unicorn killings,' he said. 'There've been unicorn killings, haven't there?'

'Yep,' said Hagrid grimly. 'Whole spate of 'em, in France. Went back down there to a forest in the Massif Central. Used to be a big herd of 'em livin' there. Now they were down to about two dozen or so. Bad scene.'

'Nobody reported this?' said Hermione. 'A spate of unicorn killings, why didn't we hear about this?'

'I 'spect the French press and their ministry covered it up,' said Hagrid. 'Folks panic if unicorns start showin' up dead with their blood missin'. These unicorns were turnin' up not jus' dead, but bled dry.'

'It's Voldemort,' said Harry at once. 'He's taking their blood.'

'S'what I figgered,' said Hagrid.

'Didn't the French ministry do anything to stop them?' Ron asked.

'Well, there's the thing,' said Hagrid. 'They did try to send in some official types, but the unicorns have gotten too skittish. The magical creature control people can' get close enough to 'em to round 'em up, by and large, but when they do get close, the unicorns panic and run away, or else they start kickin'. More than one woman got her teeth kicked ou'.'

Hermione winced and put a hand over her mouth, but then her expression changed.

'But...Hagrid, what made them think you'd be okay to get the unicorns?' she asked. 'I thought unicorn adults did better with women.'

'Tha's where Olympe helped me,' said Hagrid. 'When it comes to horses--any type of horse--she's fearless. Well, she would be, wouldn't she? She raises those Abraxans, don' she? Anyway, she put her Deputy Headmaster in charge o' Beauxbatons while she helped bring in those unicorns. Made a big pen for 'em with me, and I was able to get close enough to feed 'em an' all. Was able to keep watch over 'em. Then we had to load 'em up into that big carriage--ye know, the one tha' brought those Beauxbatons students over to Hogwarts--and I got to fly the thing out o' there with those giant horses. Hard to keep myself inconspicuous, to say the least. Took me forever to get 'ere. Olympe woulda come wi' me but she had to see to Mawg. Olympe wen' back to Beauxbatons righ' after she helped me get the unicorns loaded.'

'Where'd you go?'

'Came back here, o' course,' said Hagrid.

'But...wait, why didn't you tell us you were already back?' said Hermione indignantly. 'You were here before now and we didn't know--'

'Now, Hermione, I had to keep it quiet,' said Hagrid. 'I dint even come back to my house. I brought the carriage down in the middle of the night--it was a nightmare, arrangin' all that security, I migh' add. Had an escort of half a dozen Aurors on broomsticks. We set down near Aragog's glen and--'

Ron stiffened in his seat but said nothing, as Hagrid continued.

'--tol' him what was goin' on. Woulda left the unicorns in that area--Aragog won' touch unicorns, same as anyone else who has proper respect for 'em, but nobody'd think of botherin' unicorns in an acromantula's lair--but the unicorns might get skittish and start stompin' on Aragog's kids, and we couldn't have that.'

'Yeah, what a tragedy that would be,' Ron said sarcastically. Hagrid didn't notice.

'Tha's when I decided the only place for the unicorns was with the centaur herd,' said Hagrid, and he grimaced. 'Well, ye can imagine. Me askin' the centaurs for help. They weren't too pleased 'bou' that. Said I'd already pushed my luck with Grawp. But I got through to 'em. The centaurs still aren' happy 'bout havin' to look after all the unicorns, but unicorns are special creatures, an'...well...unicorns and centaurs are related, I guess...in a way...not that I said tha', min', the centaurs woulda been offended by that. Suffice it to say, the centaurs dint have much trouble helpin' out a...what Bane say...a nobler creature than man.' At this Hagrid rolled his eyes and took a swig of tea.

'And then what?' said Harry. 'You just hid out somewhere in the forest for a few more weeks?'

''Course not,' said Hagrid. 'Had to go back to France and drop off tha' carriage. And see to Mawg. She was doin' okay, turns out. Olympe and I decided to work wi' her best we could, get her learnin' some more English, even a bit o' French. Tough work, that. Had to hide her from the students, and Olympe had the school to run an' all. It was mostly me helpin' Mawg. But she came along rpetty well after we got her calmed down a bit. Her English got to be pretty good after a while, but I knew I'd have to move her out o' there sooner or later, and I knew Grawp would be missin' me, so...I came back.'

'And...you brought Mawg with you?' said Hermione.

Hagrid beamed. 'Yep,' he said. 'Sure did. Safest place for her, really. And it'll be nice for Grawp to have a frien'.'

Hermione smiled weakly. 'Yes, won't it?' she said.

Ron, meanwhile, closed his eyes.

_Nice. Yeah, right. Two giants in the forest. Brilliant._

'The centaurs didn't freak out?' said Harry dubiously.

At this, Hagrid looked decidedly sheepish. 'Yeah, that,' he said. 'Well...I haven' exactly talked to 'em abou' that yet.'

Hermione groaned. 'Hagrid,' she said, shaking her head.

'Don' worry,' said Hagrid quickly. 'I'm going' out there to talk to 'em righ' after you lot leave. I'm sure everything'll be jus' fine.'

The look Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged told Ron otherwise.

Somehow, the idea of a second giant in the forest, after Hagrid had already pushed his luck with the centaur, didn't sound like it would be all that 'fine.'

* * *

That night, Ron made yet another attempt at Tactile Sight using Harry's jumper.

Again, he found himself frustrated. He went to the Divination classroom to seek out Firenze, and as always the centaur made himself available. At once Ron noticed something was a bit off. Firenze was troubled. Beneath the surface of his serene exterior, Ron could sense the centaur's agitation, in the way Firenze pawed at the ground, at the stiff carriage of his palomino tail.

Ron started to ask what was wrong, but Firenze looked up at smiled at him.

'What troubles you, Ronald?' he asked.

Ron considered for a moment turning the question back to his mentor (funny how he'd come to accept Firenze as his mentor, without realizing it), but something about Firenze's manner suggested he did not wish to talk about his own problems at the moment. Ron instead launched into a monologue about the barriers he'd run up against in trying to use Tactile Sight, how, every time he'd clutched Harry's jumper, he'd see nothing more than a flash of light.

'What am I doing wrong?' Ron asked.

'Nothing,' said Firenze, 'apart from over-working yourself. Exhaustion will always interfere with your ability to See. You must rest.'

Ron sighed and nodded; he knew Firenze was right. He was working too hard. He was drained and irritable and couldn't concentrate.

_I'm turning into Hermione,_ he thought wryly.

'So, I should just put it off tonight, then?' he said. 'The meditating?'

'Yes,' said Firenze, 'it can wait another day. The rest will clear your mind...' The centaur's voice trailed off; he looked distinctly distracted all of a sudden.

Part of Ron wanted to leave; clearly Firenze had something on his mind. But curiosity won out.

'Sir?' Ron said tentatively. 'Are you...okay?'

Firenze blinked and looked at Ron for a moment with a penetrating gaze.

'The herd is restless,' he said.

'The...herd?' said Ron, and then he realized what Firenze was talking about. 'Oh. You mean...the other centaurs.'

Firenze nodded.

'How do you know they're restless?' Ron said. 'I mean...you're not...with them anymore, so...'

He blushed. He shouldn't have said that; there was a flash of sadness in Firenze's eyes.

'No, I am not,' said the centaur, smiling ruefully. 'But I can still hear them in my thoughts. No centaur is ever completely separate from his herd. The connection of our minds and souls is ever-present.'

'Oh,' said Ron, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Firenze had never spoken in any depth about being banished from his herd. Ron was tempted to ask, but he didn't. Instead he said, 'Why are they restless?'

Firenze fixed Ron with his gaze again. 'Something is coming.'

Ron swallowed and felt his stomach plummet. 'The war, you mean?'

Firenze nodded. 'It is written in the stars. The planets. There have been battles, and losses, but that was merely a prologue. It is coming.'

He paused, and paced around the magical glade, his tail swaying slightly.

'The leader is weakened,' he went on. 'But he grows stronger. The blood of the unicorns sustains him; the blood of humans strengthens him. And his forces are gathering even as we speak. It is only a matter of time before they strike again, and they will strike hard.'

Ron felt a rush of fear chill his blood, but he said nothing. Firenze had always frightened him somewhat, when he became philosophical like this. And yet Ron was intrigued, desperate to hear more.

'Will they come here?' said Ron.

'It is possible,' said Firenze. 'Professor McGonagall is a supremely powerful witch, and her protections upon this school are strong, but the Dark One does not fear her, or her strength. The one he feared has gone on.'

_Dumbledore.__ The only one Voldemort ever feared._

'Harry Potter is the last hope for us all,' Firenze said at last. 'It is his destiny.'

'I know,' Ron said, his heart feeling suddenly heavy.

'He and he alone,' said Firenze, his eyes drifting, 'must bear this burden, and defeat this evil.'

Ron felt his stomach twist, and for some reason, he felt angry. He was tired of hearing about Harry having to save the world. Even Dumbledore had known that Harry couldn't do it all by himself. Ron wasn't about to let Harry do it all by himself. That's what always got Harry into trouble, that heroic-loner thing.

'He can't do it alone,' said Ron, his voice sharp. 'He needs all of us.'

Firenze looked at Ron with a bemused expression. 'Of course he does,' said the centaur. 'You misunderstand me, Ronald. He will need all his friends.' He paused. 'Harry Potter will need you most of all.'

Ron screwed up his face in confusion.

'What do you mean?'

Firenze looked up again, at the magical sky in the room. 'I cannot say how it will happen, only that Harry Potter will need every ounce of your strength in the end. He will face the Dark One alone, but in the time leading up to this is when you will be called upon. I see it in the stars.'

'Is it my Seer stuff?' Ron asked.

Firenze looked at Ron. 'I cannot say,' he said. 'The stars only tell me so much. But you have a destiny as well. One that only time will tell. It is inextricably linked with Harry Potter's fate.'

'So...maybe I should try to meditate tonight,' said Ron.

'No,' said Firenze at once. 'I meant what I said, Ronald. Rest is vital to the Seer. You are exhausted and your mind has closed down. You cannot force it open, not when there is the weight of such fatigue pressing upon it. Go and sleep; take a potion if it will help. Refresh yourself and start anew tomorrow.'

Ron nodded.

'Thanks, sir,' he mumbled, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the desire to leave, so he did; Firenze made no objections, and didn't even seem ruffled by Ron's suddenly brusque manner.

Safely back in his room, Ron went over his conversation with Firenze; he didn't actually want to, but Firenze's voice, and his warnings, played over and over again in his mind. For a moment, Ron considered finding Harry and the others and telling them, but just as quickly he dismissed the idea. He was simply too tired to talk about that, or anything else.

His eyes fell on the stack of Auror applications on his desk, and he groaned. So far he'd only managed to finish one in its entirety, and the applications were due in two weeks. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down at his desk.

The first application, to the Ministry's school in London, was the one he had completed. He decided to read over it again carefully, to check for mistakes, although part of him knew he was also doing this to postpone the agony of turning to the next, unfinished application.

Everything looked to be in order; he folded the application carefully and placed it in the thick envelope provided by the Ministry; it was embossed with the Ministry logo and address. Ron then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a second envelope; enclosed the smaller envelope with the two Galleon application fee.

He grimaced. The applications themselves were bad enough, but the fees...he hadn't counted on that. Ron shook his head and picked up the note from Fred and George. He felt a bit foolish, having never thrown it away, but he read it again.

_Dear Ickle Ronnikins,_

_Happy Eighteenth Birthday! We enclose our latest products for your enjoyment. First, the __Portable__Desert__, complete with scorpions, snakes, a vulture and a sandstorm.__ Instructions are inside the box. We recommend sneaking into Filch's office and leaving the Desert for him as a good-bye present. _

_Second: the Backwards Fake Wand. It does up to ten spells, but reverses them. So if you do a Summoning Charm with it, what comes out is a Banishing Charm. That sort of thing. It's also charmed to look exactly like your real wand. Pretty wicked, eh? We're ruddy geniuses._

_Third: that canister thing is full of Noxious Nasal Nuisance. We've been working on that one for ages--we even let Lee in on it--and it's brilliant. Will knock a bloke flat on his arse in seconds. Use only in emergency situations, if you know what we mean._

_Oh yeah, Mum said you're applying to Auror schools. After we stopped laughing over imagining you as an Auror, we figured you might need a little assistance with the fees and the postage. Don't go thinking the money is part of your birthday present, though. We expect full remuneration sometime in the next decade, little bro._

_Take care of yourself. Don't do anything stupid._

_Love,_

_Gred__ and Forge_

Ron smiled and shook his head.

_Ten years to pay them back? That sounds about right._

He still hadn't opened Fred and George's gifts. He simply hadn't had the time. They were stacked neatly in his trunk, underneath Harry's jumper, that Ron had flung carelessly inside after his most recent fruitless attempt with it.

He put the note away and turned back to his applications. Procrastination itched at him again; he simply didn't want to bother tonight with any more essay writing on why he was psychologically suited to be an Auror. He looked at the completed application, sealed inside its envelope, and decided instead to mail that one. It was a bit late and the owlery would likely be mostly empty, but it was, at least, a good excuse to avoid working on the other applications, and the walk might do him good, anyway.

Ron made sure his Head Boy badge was prominently displayed, and left his room with the application in his left hand. He came across an Auror in the corridor.

'Just off to the owlery to mail something,' he explained to the young witch.

She eyed him for a moment. 'Need me along?'

'No, thanks,' said Ron. 'Not if you're busy.'

She put a hand on her hip. 'I am busy, but if I'm going to let you wander about on your own, you have to carry your wand.'

Ron quickly pulled his wand from his robe pocket. 'Sure,' he said, and the witch nodded and gestured for him to move on.

'And be back in ten minutes,' she called after him.

Ron waved his wand hand at her in response but continued on. He hated the paranoia that seemed to be creeping up on the castle. It left a decidedly unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the tension was showing in the other students as well.

Ron entered the owlery to find it mostly empty, but a large barn owl opened its eyes when Ron whistled softly at it. The owl swooped down and held out a leg. Ron put a few Knuts in the owl's pouch.

'Ministry of Magic,' Ron instructed. 'For Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

The owl hooted softly and swooped out of the owlery into the night. Ron watched it go, and felt a slight lifting off his chest. Just knowing the application was on its way took a bit of the weight off his mind.

_Only four more to go,_ he thought, as he started back toward his room.

Ron was just starting around the corner when he heard it. Voices. Very muffled voices. Ron froze and considered. It could be a couple of Aurors talking, but if that were true, why the hushed secrecy that seemed to surround their mumbling speech? He gripped his wand tightly and moved closer to the sounds, only to quickly duck behind a suit of armor when he saw the flash of brown hair peek out from the shadows of the alcove twelve feet away.

It was Theodore Nott, and he wasn't alone. His companion was taller and bulkier than he, and heavily robed and hooded; Ron bit his lip in frustration to note that the companion's back was to him and there was no way to make out a face. But then the dark figure stiffened and turned; Ron held his breath...

...and nearly let out a loud snort. It was just Gregory Goyle.

_'Haben Sie etwas gehört?_' said Goyle. (1)

_What? What the hell did he just say?_

_'Nein, ich habe nichts gehört,'_ said Nott, sounding impatient. 'Stop being so paranoid. And speak English.' (2)

Ron almost gave a start. Since when did Goyle speak another language? And what language was this? Ron was sure he hadn't heard it before.

'Easy for you to say,' Goyle snarled. 'You're not the one taking the chances.'

'The chances you're taking are unnecessary,' Nott retorted. 'So quit your whinging. I told you a few days ago I was very close. Why do you keep harassing me?'

'He wants it now, Nott,' Goyle said, and his voice took on an edge of fear. 'I've already had to put him off twice. You know what it's like, telling him no?' Goyle's large frame shuddered inside his robes.

'Oh, come on,' said Nott, punching Goyle in the arm. 'It's to toughen you up. I got it plenty when I joined the club.'

Ron felt his heart begin to pound; it felt so loud in his ears he was sure Nott and Goyle would hear it, too, but they didn't seem to notice anyone was nearby.

'And anyway,' Nott went on, his voice turning brutally icy, 'it's all to get you what you want in the end, isn't it?'

Ron screwed up his face in confusion. What Goyle wanted in the end? What role did Gregory Goyle have in this? Goyle was a moron. How could he possibly be involved?

_Remember what you said about Pansy? How she might have been doing a dumb act to throw people off the scent? Maybe Goyle's the one who's been playing dumb, and not Pansy. That has to be it, there can't be any other explanation for Gregory Bloody Goyle being the messenger boy for Voldemort. Who knew he could do anything right? And...good god. They're both Death Eaters. Did they rape Pansy, too? Were they there when she..._ __

Ron squeezed his eyes shut as the sound of Pansy's screams echoed in the distant corners of his mind, and focused on Nott and Goyle. Goyle's stance had changed. He was leaning into Nott, talking in a very low voice. Ron strained to hear, but all he could make out was a rumbling murmur, and one final word.

'...cling.'

_Cling. Meaning clingfoil? Plastic wrap? This is bloody ridiculous!_

Ron leaned forward, trying desperately to hear what Nott was saying back, but suddenly Ron's hand, that had been resting against the suit of armour, slipped and clanged against the sword attached to the knight's hip.

'What the--' Nott snapped, and he leapt out of the alcove.

Dammit!

There was nothing for it now but for Ron to step forward. He would not be caught out by these two prats. He took a deep breath and walked steadily and quickly, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, into Nott's line of sight. He noticed for a moment that Goyle paled, but Nott gave a kind of snarl and lunged.

Ron raised his wand and Nott stopped in his tracks.

'What do you think you're doing, Nott?' Ron asked, putting on his best Head Boy Authority face and voice.

'Were you just listening to us?' Nott demanded.

Ron smirked.

_Got this arsehole in a bit of a panic, don't I? Might as well have a bit of fun with it._

'I might have been,' said Ron. 'You really shouldn't having little Death Eater conferences in the corridors after hours.' He shifted on his feet and aimed his wand at Goyle, who paled again.

'What did you mean, "he wants it now"?' Ron asked.

'Don't answer that, Goyle,' said Nott.

At this Goyle gave Nott a dirty look. 'I wasn't going to,' he grumbled.

'You know what, don't answer,' said Ron. 'I know you're talking about Voldemort, and I know he wants the clingfoil, or the cling or whatever it is you're calling it.'

He waited for Nott's face to go as pale as Goyle's, but instead Nott began to laugh derisively. Goyle watched him for a moment, and then his features relaxed and he, too, began to laugh.

'Oh, Weasley,' Nott said, shaking his head, 'you really are pathetic, you know.'

Ron bristled. He knew somehow the dynamic of the conversation had shifted, and he felt his confidence evaporate. He took a breath.

'Maybe I should take you two to McGonagall's office,' he said. 'Let her interrogate you with a little Veritaserum, yeah?'

'You really think a little Veritaserum is going to make us talk?' said Nott. 'Or did you miss the fact that some of us have built up an immunity to it?'

Something snapped in Ron's mind.

Helene Rosier. She was able to resist the effects of Veritaserum under interrogation. Did that mean Nott and Goyle could be as well? A year ago Ron would have said that was impossible, but after all that had happened, starting with the disaster of Lucius Malfoy's trial and escape, after Professor Hopkirk and Shield Charms that could block the Killing Curse, after giants that could speak English and potions that made Harry into a super-human, Ron knew anything was possible now.

He suddenly felt more adrift than ever. Nott was standing here practically admitting he was a Death Eater, and there was nothing Ron could do about it. Not without proof. Even if McGonagall took Ron at his word and expelled Nott, would that even help? Nott might be a bigger danger on the outside, once he had nothing to lose.

'I know what you're doing,' Ron snarled. 'I know you're passing along information to Voldemort.'

'Prove it,' said Nott, meeting Ron's gaze.

And there it was. Ron couldn't prove it. Words meant nothing. Ron knew now that Nott had been a part of the attack on Charlie; perhaps that had been the other boy's initiation into the Death Eater's club. And Ron knew that even if Nott hadn't been in the Grangers' house on Christmas night, he had known about the attack. Nott had been careful to cover his tracks, and he'd had the help of his Death Eater fellows.

Ron knew he had a choice: he could hex Nott and Goyle into submission, drag them into the Headmistress's office and tell her all that he'd heard. But what good would it do? Nott would find a way to get out of it--he was clever and capable, as Ron had seen in D.A. meetings, whenever they faced off as opponents (which was frequently). Even if Goyle was the messenger, Nott was running the scene inside Hogwarts now, as Voldemort's helper, which meant that Nott was smart enough to always have a Plan B, or even a Plan C.

Ron let out a breath and stepped back slightly, but kept his wand in Nott's face.

'I know what you're doing,' he said again. 'I can't prove it, but I can keep an eye on you.'

Nott smirked. 'You do that, Weasley,' he said, and then he arched his aristocratic eyebrows. 'What now? Are you going to give us detention?'

'A week,' Ron snapped. 'Both of you.' He was suddenly furious, with Nott, with himself. Nott had played the entire situation to his own benefit and Ron was nearly overcome with the urge to punch the other boy in the mouth and wipe away that obnoxious smirk. He didn't, though. He simply kept his wand up.

'Fine,' said Nott, and he turned to Goyle, who, Ron noticed, looked distinctly nervous.

_Well, at least one of them is intimidated. _

'Let's go, Goyle,' said Nott. He looked at Ron contemptuously and smiled smugly.

Ron watched the two of them head down the corridor toward the Slytherin dungeons.

Just before they turned the corner, Nott turned back and gave Ron a cold, smug smile.

'Speaking of keeping an eye on people,' he said, 'you might think about your family.'

Ron felt a white-hot rage rush inside him; he saw Nott throwing curses at Charlie, a wall collapsing on Percy as he tried to save their father. He raised his wand and was ready to curse Nott. Nott was still smiling.

'Hey,' said a voice, and Ron started and turned to see the young Auror witch glaring at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nott and Goyle disappear, but the Auror didn't appear to have seen them.

'You said you'd be back in ten minutes,' said the witch, looking 't find an owl right away,' he lied.

'I can't go chasing students around,' she said, 'even if one is Head Boy.'

'Sorry,' said Ron.

'Come on,' said the witch. 'You can't stay in the corridors. I'll escort you where you need to go.'

Ron immediately though of Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

'The Gryffindor common room,' he said.

'Right, then,' said the witch. 'Let's go.'

He followed her, and just as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Ron paused and remembered something.

'What's your name?' he asked.

'Mary Stebbins,' she said coolly. 'Why do you want to know?'

'I just...like knowing who's looking out for us,' said Ron. Which was true, really, but there was more to it than that. Only he didn't want to tell her the full reason, as it was a bit macabre.

_I just want to know your name in case you die, so I remember you._

A small smile, nonetheless, curled Mary's lips.

'Good night, Mr. Weasley,' she said, and she gave him a curt but not unfriendly nod before turning on her heel and heading back down the corridor.

* * *

'Ron, what's the matter?'

Hermione, Harry and Ginny were sitting in his room in their usual spots, and Ron was pacing. He'd gone straight to the common room, where he found them all up and studying. He didn't even have to speak for them to silently stack their books and follow him out the portrait hole.

Once in his room, Ron realized he was so wound up he needed to pace just to calm himself down. If he'd been alone he would have done some of the calming exercises Firenze had taught him, but it couldn't be helped now. He paced some more, and the others waited him out. At last, Ron felt more like himself, and he turned to them and told them.

'They were speaking a different language?' Hermione said. 'Goyle?'

'Yeah, I know,' said Ron. 'Weird. It must be some Death Eater thing. It's like they can all speak foreign languages.'

'What language was it?' said Harry.

'Damned if I know,' he said. 'I know it wasn't French. It didn't sound like French. It was too...hard, or something, to be French. Anyway, they only said, like, two words and then they were speaking English.'

'And another mention of "clingfoil",' said Hermione.

'No, this time Goyle just said "cling",' said Ron. 'Which means maybe Aberforth Dumbledore only got it half right. Oh, and he threatened our family again,' he added darkly.

Ginny snorted. 'Bastard. Everyone who's not licking Voldemort's boots is in danger.'

'Yeah, but your family should be careful, anyway,' said Harry, looking worried.

'After all that's happened, I'm sure they're taking every precaution,' said Ginny.

Hermione sighed; she looked exhausted. Her eyes skipped over to his desk; Ron had moved the stack of applications out of the way so that Harry could sit in the desk chair and rest his elbow on the surface of the desk. Hermione's eyes widened for a split second, but then she looked back up at Ron.

'One of your applications is missing,' she said slowly.

'What?' said Ron absently, and he looked over at the desk. 'Oh, right. No, it's not missing. I sent it out. That's what I was doing when I ran into Nott and Goyle. I was on my way back from the Owlery.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, her voice oddly tight. Her eyes fluttered away from him, and Ron felt the tension in the air thicken.

Ginny sensed it, too, judging by the look on her face. She stood up and tugged at Harry's sleeve.

'We can't worry about this tonight,' she said.

Ron groaned. 'Why does it feel like everything's getting away from us? One minute we make progress, a step forward, and then it's two steps back...'

'Ron, we're all exhausted,' said Ginny steadily.

'She's right,' said Harry. 'We've got to get some rest. And something good did come out of this, Ron, you know.'

'How d'you reckon?' Ron asked.

'Nott knows we're on to him now,' said Harry. 'He's compromised. He can't get away with too much if he knows he's being watched.'

'And as long as he's here,' said Ginny, 'we can keep an eye on him.'

'I think you should tell McGonagall tomorrow,' said Hermione, her voice still sounding slightly distant.

'I plan to,' said Ron, eyeing her warily.

'We're turning in,' Ginny said, and she leaned up and gave Ron a peck on the cheek, and hugged Hermione. Hermione then gave Harry a slightly listless hug, and Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder.

'See you in the morning,' said Harry, and he and Ginny left Ron's room.

For a long moment after they left, there was a silence between Ron and Hermione. She wasn't looking at him, but at his desk.

'Hermione,' Ron said softly, 'what's wrong?'

She looked up at him and smiled weakly. 'Oh, nothing,' she said, waving her hand at him.

'Not nothing,' Ron said at once, and sat down next to her. 'Talk to me.'

She looked at him and bit her lip. 'I just...why didn't you tell me you were going to send out your application tonight?'

Ron looked at her with surprise. He hadn't really been expecting that question.

'Because...it was finished and it was right there on my desk,' he said, shrugging. 'I guess I just wanted the thing out there. I've got four more to finish and the deadline's coming up and...it was a bit of a relief, at least, getting one sent.'

Hermione nodded and looked down at her hands, but said nothing. Ron gingerly took her hand in his, but still she didn't look up. Something in her manner told him he had to wait for her to speak.

'I'm sure,' she said finally, 'that you'll be accepted. Into the training program, I mean.'

It was not what he'd expected her to say. He felt a little thrill in his stomach to hear it, but it was tempered by her halting tone.

'You think so?' he said, choosing to let it go for the moment.

'I know so,' she said, finally meeting his eyes. He started to speak but she beat him to it.

'I've seen you in lessons,' she said. 'And D.A. meetings. You've worked so hard and...you're good, Ron. You'd make an excellent Auror.'

Her words should have filled him with pride, but they didn't. She looked so sad to him just then, he felt his heart constrict.

He knew why. She was afraid; ever since Christmas night, things had been different for them. It wasn't that she fussed over him; it was in the way her eyes would grow fearful and the way she'd press her lips together after a D.A. meeting, when Ron was tired and sweaty but felt great after the tough physical work of duelling and spell-casting, dodging and weaving out of the way of his opponent's hexes and curses. She never said or did anything overtly different toward him, apart from spend more time around him and cling to him more tightly at night after they fell asleep and especially after they made love. But she was different all the same.

He thought, too, about the other job opportunities that had come his way. Good opportunities that he had dismissed almost out of hand as soon as they'd come in. There was the assistant coaching job for the Cannons, for example. Two years ago he would have leapt at the chance, but then, two years ago, he hadn't nearly lost all his best friends and half of his family. Two years ago, he didn't truly believe he was good enough to be an Auror.

Then there were the numerous Ministry positions, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, or in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department. Ron knew it wouldn't take much to get a job like that, given that his father had enjoyed greater respect in the past few years and that Percy worked in the Ministry as well.

Hermione had asked him why he wouldn't give even just think about those jobs.

'Because I want to be able to do something to make things better,' Ron had said. 'Everything's so messed up, I just want to do something good.'

'You can do good as a Quidditch coach,' she'd said.

'It's not the same,' said Ron. And the subject had dropped, and hadn't come up again.

But now it was upon them again. His future, and his choice. He knew Hermione didn't like it at all, but he'd allowed the subject to go unexplored. After all, he rationalized, it's not as if she was telling him her objections.

_Bullshit. Don't lie to yourself. You've been avoiding it because you don't want to deal with it. _

Looking at her now, her brown eyes dry but aching, he knew he couldn't avoid it anymore.

'Hermione,' he said, his voice cracking slightly, 'do you...not want me to be an Auror?'

She stiffened at once. 'I never said that,' she said at once, shaking her head a bit too vigorously.

'But...' Ron prompted.

Hermione let out a sigh, and kept her eyes firmly on her lap. 'I just...I don't know why you think you can't achieve something good for the world in some other way. Some other way that's not so...dangerous.'

_And there it is. She's terrified of losing you. Like she told you at Christmas, after her parents were attacked._

'Hermione,' Ron said slowly, 'I...I know you worry about me.'

'An understatement,' she muttered, almost under her breath.

'Don't you think I worry about you?' Ron countered.

'I know you do,' she said. She still wouldn't look at him, and it was driving him to distraction.

'Hermione, please look at me,' he urged gently. She did, and the depths of her brown eyes were filled with sadness. He let out a breath.

'I know you worry about me,' he said again, 'but...don't you see? I'm better than I was at Christmas. I'm being a lot more careful. A lot more careful.'

'I know--'

'And, hey, I play Quidditch, remember?' he said. 'That's dangerous, too.'

'Yes,' said Hermione, placing a hand against his cheek, 'and now you know why I don't much like that game. Because you're up there swooping around on your broom and I'm so sure any second you'll take a Bludger to the head and go crashing to the ground.'

_Oh, yeah. Right._

'Ron,' she said, 'you're so good at so many things. You're a Seer, think of all you could do with that, and you'd never have to take so many risks.'

Ron took the hand that was pressed against his cheek in his own.

'Do you want me not to be an Auror?' he asked again. She started to look away, but he placed his hand under her chin. 'Don't look away,' he insisted gently.

'I...I don't know,' she said finally. 'I just...I'm afraid. I know you'd be a good Auror, I wasn't just saying that. And that's what frightens me.'

'Do you want me to give it up?' Ron persisted.

_And what will you say if she says yes?_

_I don't know!_

'N-no,' she said finally. 'I want you to be happy.' She paused and seemed to be gathering herself. 'I could never ask you to give up something that made you happy. I know you'd never do that to me, and...I couldn't do that to you.'

When she looked at him again, her eyes were filled with tears.

'But I won't lie to you, either,' she said. 'I hate it.'

Ron swallowed. He didn't know what to say to that. It was out there now, on the table. She wasn't asking him to give up what he wanted, but she hated the idea all the same. He supposed he ought to be relieved that they'd at least addressed the issue at last, and yet doubts still gnawed at his insides. It was as if they'd crossed a line, and were standing on a precipice. Could their relationship survive something like this?

It was not a question for Ron anymore that he wanted to be an Auror. He did. But more than this, it was what he needed. It was what he knew he was meant to do. It was what he had to do.

And yet he needed her, too. So badly. And he loved her more than he thought he could love anyone, especially in this moment, when she laid open her heart to him and choked back her own desire to see him safely ensconced in a desk job.

But she hated his choice. How much was she supposed to accept for that choice?

And suddenly, unbidden, the vision of the two of them and the baby flashed in his mind. What did it mean, that vision? It was a possible future, but Firenze had said Ron's destiny was written in the stars, that his destiny was bound to Harry's. How did being an Auror fit into that? How did having a child with Hermione fit in? Confusion spilled through his mind and he was suddenly tired, so very tired.

Looking into her tear-filled eyes, he wanted to tell her about the vision, about the baby, to give her some reassurance, but then her lips were against his, sweetly insistent. He kissed her back, deciding he didn't want to talk after all, and knew where it would lead, and he let it happen, because he was scared, because he needed her, because he was tired, but never tired enough to want to drown in her skin. And if they could just push away this new uncertainty between them, so much the better.

A little while later, they fell asleep, their bodies entwined. Ron forgot all about the vision, and he didn't dream.

* * *

Next day Ron did indeed feel better and stronger. Hermione had slipped out of his bed earlier that morning, and for a moment he felt a pang as he remembered their conversation the night before, and the soft, desperate lovemaking that had followed, but he found a note on his pillow, and his heart warmed when he read it.

_I love you. Always._

_H_

That was all she'd written, but it was more than enough. He felt renewed and pushed back at the lingering doubt hovering in the back of his mind. Today, he told himself, he would make progress. After he meditated, he'd go straight to McGonagall and report Nott and Goyle, and the threat Nott had made. The best part was that Snape would be able to keep an eye on Nott. Snape had eyes like a hawk, and given his own background as a spy, well, it couldn't hurt, anyway.

_Fancy that. Me being glad about Snape helping._

Ron got up, took a bracingly hot shower, shaved, brushed his teeth, and dressed before preparing to meditate. He went to the trouble of casting a magical fire and adding some of the herbs from the supply Firenze had given him.

He sat down next to his trunk and took a full minute to breathe in the herbs and relax his mind before getting the jumper; his eyes were closed as he reached into his trunk.

Instead of the wool of the jumper, however, his fingers closed around the canister of Noxious Nasal Nuisance. He picked it up to move it out of the way, and was seized by a vision.

He gave a little cry and tried to drop the canister but it seemed fused to his skin as the vision assaulted him...

_Diagon Alley; it was early morning, before dawn. Fred and George were in the shop with Lee Jordan; they looked to be in the back storeroom, and they were surrounded by canisters and were shoving them into large wooden crates. Or rather, Fred and George were; Lee seemed to be standing back a bit and watching them. His face looked oddly slack._

_'Move it along, Fred,' George was saying. 'The delivery guy's here in ten minutes and if this shipment's not ready--'_

_'He won't wait and he'll come back tomorrow and the Order will have kittens,' Fred finished, rolling his eyes. 'I'm moving as fast as I can, George, in case you didn't notice.'_

_'Hey, Lee, what's up? Get to packing,' George barked._

_Lee's response was to step back and pull his wand from his robes._

_'Of course,' said Fred. 'Good call, Lee, what the hell are we doing this manually for when we've got magic to--'_

_'NO!'_

_The scream came from Ron's own lips as Lee, his eyes cold and dead, pointed his wand at Fred's chest._

_'Lee, what--' Fred started to say._

Eiectare,'_ said Lee, in an eerily calm voice. (3)_

_The curse slammed into Fred's chest and he gave a surprised yell as he was hurled backwards, smashing through the closed door of the storeroom so hard the door ripped off its hinges._

_No, Ron thought desperately, and he struggled to move, but the vision was possessing him now, pinning him to the floor._

_George took half a second to gape at Lee in horror before yanking out his wand, but the half second was all the time Lee needed; he turned sharply and aimed his wand at George._

'Confractum femoris,'_ he said._

'Protego!'_ George shouted, and the curse bounced away harmlessly. 'Lee, what the bloody hell are you doing?'_

'Diffindo,'_ said Lee._

'Protego!'_ George yelled, again blocking Lee's spell._

_'He's under the Imperius Curse!' Ron shouted, but of course, George couldn't hear him. _

_But George seemed to have figure this out._

_'Lee!' he cried, holding his wand up. 'It's me. George! Come on, mate, don't do this! This isn't you!'_

_At this, Lee suddenly wavered. The dead expression in his eyes changed, and a flash of pain stretched across his face._

_'Come on, Lee,' George urged. 'Fight it.'_

Where's Fred?_ Ron thought madly, struggling to see Fred through the ruins of the doorway into the shop. Ron's throat constricted when he saw his older brother lying in a twisted heap on top of a fallen shelf._

_'Lee,' George was saying, 'you can fight it.'_

_Ron wrenched his attention back to Lee and saw him open his mouth as if to speak; his whole body was shaking now, and his face was sheened with sweat. He was fighting the curse hard, but even as he fought, his wand arm was going up. George looked stricken._

_'Lee, don't!' he yelled._

_Lee gave a strangled cry, the sort a wounded animal would make, and suddenly there was a rush of air as the curse lifted. Lee pitched forward toward George, who caught him._

_'Lee,' George cried, his voice cracking. 'Jesus Christ.'_

_Lee sank to his knees and looked up at George weakly, his face a mask of shame._

_'I'm sorry...' he whispered. 'I'm sorry...'_

_At that moment four sharp pops cracked the air, and Ron squirmed in horror as George and Lee were surrounded by Death Eaters. George immediately struggled to get his wand up, but Lee was clinging to him._

_One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and pointed a wand at Lee._

_'No!' George screamed._

'Avada Kedavra,'_ said the voice of Helene Rosier. Ron's screams blended with George's as the green beam of light struck Lee Jordan in the back. His eyes were still wide open with shock and shame as he slid, deadweight, from George's arms._

_'You fucking__ bastards!' George yelled, and he raised his wand and aimed it at Helene Rosier._

'Expelliarmus,'_ said a second voice, a low, elegant voice that made Ron's blood seem to freeze._

_He could only watch impotently as George's wand sailed neatly into the gloved, outstretched hand of Lucius Malfoy._

'Crucio,'_ Malfoy added, almost as though it was an afterthought, and the curse struck George in the face. He shrieked in pain and crashed to the floor._

_'No, no, no, no...' Ron moaned. 'Make it stop...'_

_But it didn't stop. Even as George hollered out his agony, Malfoy pulled his hood down and turned to Helene Rosier. He gave her a soft smile that was almost affectionate, and she smiled back, her eyes glittering with undisguised lust._

_'Fetch the twin,' said Malfoy._

And just like that, the vision was over. Ron groaned and felt the canister slip from his fingers. His muscles were twitching and a wave of nausea punched him in the gut; he leaned over and vomited onto the rug. His head was pounding. He had to get up. He had to tell McGonagall. Lee would die. His brothers...

He took a deep breath and pushed himself up onto his knees but suddenly he was assaulted with more visions. Explosions. An endless stream of them that boomed in his mind, in his ears. He clapped his hands over his ears and gritted his teeth.

_Make it stop!_ he begged silently, to no one.

_The Burrow was burning. Fred and George's store was burning. __Grimmauld Place..._

Ron's eyes flew open as the vision ended, this one just as abruptly as the last. He felt his stomach heave and nearly vomited again, but fought back the nausea. The thumping in his head wouldn't stop; it was driving him mad; he had to get up and get to McGonagall. Why wouldn't the pounding in his head stop?

It was a few more seconds when Ron, pulling himself painfully to his feet, realized that the pounding was on his door, not his head.

'Weasley, open this door!'

_McGonagall._

Ron started toward the door but his knees gave out on him, and instead he swayed back and collapsed onto his bed. He pulled his wand from his robe pocket and opened the door that way.

She burst into the room, followed by Professor Snape. Her eyes took in the still crackling magical fire, the canister that had rolled out of Ron's fingers and come to rest against the side of his trunk, and the pool of vomit.

'Weasley,' she whispered. Snape shut the door behind her.

'I saw something,' Ron choked. 'Fred and George...'

McGonagall's hand fluttered to her mouth.

'Oh, no,' she whispered.

'What?' said Ron, and he felt his heart begin to hammer away in his chest, as loud as the pounding that still went on in his head. 'What's wrong?' He suddenly felt like throwing up again.

'There have been some attacks,' said Professor Snape, keeping his voice perfectly even. 'Your brothers' store and your parents' house.'

'No,' Ron moaned. 'No...I just saw it...it can't have already happened...'

'I'm afraid it did,' said McGonagall. 'I'm so sorry.'

Ron felt hot, furious tears burning his eyes. 'My family...' he croaked.

'Your parents are safe,' said Snape quickly. 'They were at headquarters when...when the house was attacked.'

It was the word 'headquarters' that snapped Ron's attention.

Grimmauld Place. He'd seen an explosion at Grimmauld Place. Which meant the Death Eaters knew where it was. Everything slammed into place now, and suddenly Ron recalled the dream he'd had at Christmas, where Lee, Fred and George were all in a room, working on something. A canister. It was a canister of the Noxious Nasal Nuisance.

_We've been working on that one for ages--we even let Lee in on it--and it's brilliant._

Dear god. Had Lee been under the Imperius curse back then? No, it was impossible, Fred and George would have noticed. But clearly, the Death Eaters wanted the stuff. That was why they'd hit the store. They used Lee, they had gotten to him somehow, put the Imperius Curse on him, and he'd unwillingly led them right to Fred and George.

_On a day when they were shipping it.__ To the Order! No, no, no, no..._

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was compromised.

'You have to get them out of there!' Ron cried, leaping up from the bed, fighting the wave of dizziness. 'My parents, everyone! I saw an explosion at Grimmauld Place! The Death Eaters know where it is, you have to get everyone out!'

McGonagall's face registered horror, but almost at once she turned to Snape.

'Severus, go to Potter's room and send Fawkes with a message to Kingsley,' McGonagall ordered. 'Then go right to my office and use a Portkey. Get them out.'

Snape swept out of the room faster than Ron had ever seen him move.

Ron was panting and he felt the vague stirrings of hyperventilation coming on. He sat down and forced himself to breathe. The last thing he needed to do was pass out. Guilt and nausea and dizziness were threatening to knock him over, but he had to find out what was going on.

'Weasley, are you all right?' McGonagall asked, her voice tight with concern.

'Tell me about Fred and George,' he said, 'please.'

McGonagall let out a long breath.

'The store was destroyed,' she said. 'We believe the Death Eaters were after--'

'I know what they were after,' Ron interrupted, not caring if he sounded rude. 'They wanted that gas stuff, in the canisters. What happened to Fred and George? Are they...they're not dead, are they?'

'So far as we know, they are not,' said McGonagall.

'What does that mean?' Ron asked, but he had a horrible feeling he knew.

'It appears,' said McGonagall grimly, 'that the Death Eaters kidnapped your brothers.'

* * *

**A/N: I'm sure everyone hates me now. I freely admit this is one of my worst cliffhangers. But things are in motion now and the muse is cooperating and who am I to deny her?**

**Thanks to Buckbeaky and lina, my "Beta Team."**

**German translations:**

**(1) Did you hear something?**

**(2) No, I heard nothing.**

**(Note: Goyle deliberately is using the more formal "Sie" (you) as opposed to the familiar "du"; it's meant to show his respect to Nott. There's another reason, too, but I won't say what it is, because that would be giving something away)**

**Latin translation:**

**(3) Eiectare means "to hurl" or "to throw"**


	41. Chapter Forty One: Lost and Found

_Chapter Forty-One: Lost and Found_

Harry held Ginny close as he watched Ron pace back and forth relentlessly. Hermione stood back from her boyfriend slightly and worried her hands, but was otherwise silent.

They'd been in Professor McGonagall's office for the past forty-five minutes, but it felt like hours. Already they were missing the morning lesson, but none of them seemed to care. McGonagall had given Harry, Ginny and Hermione only the barest details and had hurried away; Ron filled them in with everything else, looking sick the entire time. He seemed to be pacing not simply to try and calm his nerves, but the obvious nausea that was written on his face.

Harry's own mind was racing with the horror of learning all that had happened: the Burrow destroyed; Lee Jordan dead; Fred and George kidnapped and their store ransacked. And at the moment, none of the people in McGonagall's office knew whether the other Weasleys were alive or dead.

Harry felt Ginny tremble in his arms and he hugged her more tightly. She'd wept despondently upon first learning of Fred and George's abduction; now she was whimpering softly, and the depths of her anguish pierced Harry's very skin like a thousand hot needles. He had never felt more wretched for her or for Ron.

_They've got Fred and George. He's going to torture them and take their blood, and when he's done with them..._

'Harry, don't,' Ginny whispered, a small sob in her voice.

Harry bit his lip; even if Ginny couldn't read his thoughts, she could feel his emotions.

_Idiot.__ Here you are thinking the worst and she can sense it. You have to be the strong one now._

'I'm sorry,' he whispered back. 'I'm sorry.' He placed a kiss on her forehead and stroked her hair, and forced himself to think positive thoughts.

_Fred and George will be fine; Ron'll find them. And the other Weasleys, they'll get out in time, I know it..._

As if a higher power was answering at least part of Harry's desires, the door to McGonagall's office swung open. The Headmistress strode in quickly, followed by a very sallow and tired-looking Professor Snape, and behind him...

'Mum! Dad!'

Ginny yanked herself from Harry's arms and flung herself at her parents, who crushed her to them in a three-way hug. Ron let out a strangled sort of sound and followed, and the three-way hug became a hug of four, with Ron towering over all of them and struggling not to cry. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were a bit of a mess; Mr. Weasley had a mean cut along his forehead that was covered with a bandage; Mrs. Weasley sported an ugly bruise along her right cheek, and both had torn their robes. But they looked as thought they'd been cleaned and patched up.

In the next moment, Harry felt the tightness in his chest ease further by the appearance of Charlie and Percy. The two Weasleys hugged their younger siblings in turn, and before long almost everyone in the room was crying; Harry pressed his lips together to hold back the tears that threatened, and instead reached for Hermione and put an arm round her shoulder; she leaned into him and sniffled. The two Weasley sons, too, were the worst for wear; Percy's cane appeared to have been snapped in two at some point, and haphazardly put back together. Charlie's arm was wrapped in gauze, and Percy had a cut over his eyebrow.

'What happened?' Ginny was saying, clinging to her father now.

'They attacked headquarters,' Mr. Weasley said gravely, patting his daughter's hair. 'We got out just in time. Severus reached us right before the Death Eaters. I can't believe they found the place, we were so careful with keeping the location hidden--'

'Dad,' Ron interrupted, looking around at his family. His voice was hoarse. 'Where's Bill?'

Mrs. Weasley's face became stricken, and Mr. Weasley frowned grimly.

'In hospital,' he said. 'At St. Mungo's. He and Fleur were on their way to headquarters and got ambushed. We were able to get them out, but...'

At this, Mrs. Weasley began to cry softly.

'What?' Ron said desperately.

'Bill's fine,' said Mr. Weasley, letting go of Ginny and pulling Mrs. Weasley into his arms. 'Just got a broken leg. But Fleur...they hit her with a few curses, I don't know what they were...they were still working on her when we left Bill. That's why it took so long to get here, see.'

Ginny had a hand over her mouth for a moment, and then lowered it.

'The baby?' she whispered.

'They said Fleur would recover but...they're not sure if they can save the baby,' said Mr. Weasley gravely, and his voice broke a little.

'And Fred and George?' Ron pressed. 'What about them?'

'Kingsley has two teams of Aurors searching the area around the store,' said McGonagall firmly. 'I'm afraid...the store was levelled. There was no trace of your brothers when the Aurors got there. They only found...Mr. Jordan.'

At this, McGonagall's voice, too, shook slightly.

'He's dead, isn't he?' said Ron dully.

'Yes,' said McGonagall. 'The Killing Curse. There wasn't a mark on his body. The only saving grace is that he went quickly.'

Ron snorted and turned away; he looked and sounded disgusted by it all.

'They hit everything,' Charlie said, his voice low and dangerous. 'The store, our house...burned to the bloody ground--'

'I don't care about the house!' Mrs. Weasley cried suddenly, and she began to bawl. 'I only care about...my boys...my god, where are my sons? Arthur...'

Harry bit his lip as Mrs. Weasley's knees gave out and she sank against her husband; Mr. Weasley held her up, and Charlie went to his mother.

'It'll be okay, Molly,' Mr. Weasley said, his voice wavering. 'Please don't.'

'Mum, sit down here,' Charlie urged, as the two men led Mrs. Weasley to a nearby chair.

'Severus,' said McGonagall, 'would you have Poppy come up here, please?'

Snape, whose expression was distinctly uncomfortable at all the grief happening in the room, nodded briskly to McGonagall and swept from the room.

McGonagall addressed the rest of them. 'I need to get a message to the Ministry right now,' she said heavily. 'I need to speak with Minister Bones. I'll be back shortly. You all can stay here for the moment. Potter, you and your friends are excused from lessons today.'

She turned on her heel and started out of the office, and then turned back to the Weasleys. Harry felt a pang when he saw McGonagall's eyes shine with tears.

'I'm so sorry this has happened,' she said, before leaving the room in silence.

The soft click of the door was muffled against Mrs. Weasley's quiet crying.

'Where are they?' Mrs. Weasley was sobbing quietly, leaning against Mr. Weasley. 'Where are my boys?'

'We'll get them back, Mum,' said Charlie, and Percy hobbled gingerly on his cane toward his mother.

'Charlie's right, Mum,' he said. 'We'll find them.'

Mrs. Weasley could only sob and nod her head as Charlie and Percy knelt down and hugged their mother.

Harry watched it all with a heart so heavy, it felt like there was a boulder in his chest. At some point, Ginny had moved back into his arms; he struggled to think better thoughts again, for her sake, but he couldn't quite manage it, not when Ginny's own emotions were flowing into him. He settled for just holding onto her, which seemed to be enough for her as she buried her face into his shoulder. Hermione had walked to Ron, who was facing the wall and leaning his forehead against it; she gripped his hand but said nothing.

It was Ron who spoke first.

'They know it's me,' he said, his forehead still leaning against the wall.

'W-what?' said Mrs. Weasley, wiping her eyes.

Ron didn't appear to pay attention to his mother; when he turned round he looked directly at Harry.

'They know it's me,' he said again, and his blue eyes glittered with anger, and his ears went pink.

Harry felt his body tense.

'How do you know?' he asked tentatively, keeping his eyes fixed on Ron, but suddenly Ron turned away harshly and pounded his right fist into his left palm.

'Dammit!' he snarled. 'I'm such an idiot! Last night...Nott told me last bloody night and I didn't say anything! I could have gone to Professor McGonagall last night and stopped all of this!'

'Ron, don't,' said Ginny. 'We all blew it off, it wasn't just you.'

'What's going on?' Charlie asked, looking bewildered.

Ron snorted again and looked at her. 'Yeah, but I was there when Nott made the threat. Right in front of my face, he said it!'

'Ron, you couldn't have foreseen it, you can't see everything, Firenze said--' Hermione began.

'I know what Firenze said!' Ron yelled, his voice breaking. 'It's not good enough, Hermione. They know it's me and I know they must have tricked me, okay? I know it! But that's not good enough! Nott warned me last night! I should have gone straight to Professor McGonagall with it and I didn't. Don't try to tell me this wasn't my fault, Hermione!'

'It isn't your fault, Ron,' Mr. Weasley said, looking as lost as his wife and two older sons. 'How could it be?'

'Because I'm a Seer, dad, that's why!' Ron yelled. 'I'm supposed to see this stuff coming, especially given that it's my family that's involved here! And even if I couldn't have foreseen what happened this morning I damn well had a warning last night!'

Ron was breathing hard now, and furious tears sprang to his eyes.

'It's my fault,' he croaked, and he turned away from them, his shoulders sagging in shame as he wiped his eyes.

Harry's heart was hurting, and yet he was stunned. Ron had blurted out the secret he'd had to keep for the better part of eight months. His family was all staring at him in awe and confusion.

'Back up,' said Charlie slowly. 'What do you mean, you're a Seer?'

Ron snarled and waved a hand, as if to say that the very subject made him ill. Hermione spoke instead.

'He's a Seer,' said Hermione. 'And a really good one, when he's not beating up on himself. He's the one who found out about you, Charlie. Ron saw the Death Eaters attack you, before it happened. That's how you got rescued in time. He would have told you sooner but Dumbledore thought it was safer to keep it a secret at the time, only now that Voldemort seems to know about Ron you all might as well, too.'

Ron stared at Hermione, his mouth gaping.

'Merlin,' Mr. Weasley breathed. 'Is it really true? Ron...'

Ron started to speak but Hermione beat him to it.

'Yes,' she said forcefully. 'It all came out after the brain attack during fifth year. Dumbledore thought the attack triggered the gift. Like it was there all along but dormant or something. Ron started having visions the summer after fifth year and he kept on having them in sixth year but he didn't know what they meant, and nobody really suspected it. Nobody except Dumbledore. I didn't even believe it at first but after seeing what Ron can do--'

'Hermione...' said Ron, his voice full of warning.

'He's a great Seer,' Hermione continued, her voice trembling. 'He has a real gift, he's helped a lot of people and nobody knew about it because it had to be a secret. He stopped a bunch of attacks last year, and he was the one who found Anthony Goldstein. If it weren't for Ron, Anthony would probably be dead.'

'Hermione, stop,' Ron begged.

'No, I won't!' said Hermione furiously, as her eyes filled. 'I knew this would happen, Ron, I knew you'd blame yourself the minute McGonagall told us what happened to Fred and George...and to Lee...and to the rest of your family, and you have to stop!'

'I didn't find Pansy in time, did I? Or Karkaroff,' Ron retorted.

'No, you didn't,' Hermione shot back. 'And it's horrible that you couldn't help save them but you've done so much for other people Ron. You saved Charlie all those months ago. You saved most of your family today. Don't you dare cheapen that by wallowing in self-doubt!'

Everyone gaped at Hermione and Ron; the two of them no longer seemed to even be aware that others were in the room.

'And yes, Fred and George...what happened was terrible but they could be alive right now, and if they are they need you!' she went on. 'And it's terrible what happened to Lee but you can't dwell on everything you weren't able to do! You have to focus on what you have to do!'

Hermione was panting and red-cheeked now, and Ron's mouth now started to open and close like a fish.

Harry watched them and felt a sudden warmth in his chest. He was used to seeing Hermione try to boss Ron around, but now it was different. There was all the usual exasperation in her voice that always was evident when Ron was being stubborn, but there was something else, too: a fierce love that seemed to radiate out of Hermione's very skin. She would bellow at Ron if it meant dragging him back from the morass of guilt he'd sat down in.

Harry felt Ginny stir next to him, and he looked down at her; she was watching her older brother and Hermione look at each other, and Harry realized that Ginny was feeling the same warmth, the same sense that somehow, things just might be okay.

Ron's lower lip suddenly trembled slightly, and again, Harry wondered if his best mate might just break down, but instead he just looked a bit lost. Hermione crossed to him and pulled him into a fierce hug, and he gave a strangled sort of groan and clutched her to him. He whispered something into Hermione's hair--Harry couldn't tell what it was--and after a long moment, they pulled apart.

Nobody seemed to know what to say; everyone was staring at Ron. But he seemed to be gathering himself, and Harry was relieved to see some of the old determination cross Ron's freckled face.

'Right. I need something of theirs,' he said. 'Something personal.'

'What?' said Mrs. Weasley, clearly confused. 'What do you mean?'

'Something of Fred and George's,' said Ron, and then his face fell. 'Damn. I guess there wouldn't be much, would there, with the house...blown up, and their store...and Grimmauld Place...'

He paused, and then his face lit up. 'Their flat!' he burst out. 'Of course!' And before anyone could say another word, Ron bolted from McGonagall's office. He went out the door, and then popped back in.

'Er...be right back, just have to check something,' he said.

'Ron, don't you dare think about going--' Hermione started.

'I'm not,' said Ron. 'Just going to find McGonagall, er, Professor McGonagall. See you in a few!'

Ron's family gawped as he disappeared out the door.

'Now what's he doing?' Percy asked, sounding mystified.

Harry met Percy's eyes. 'He's going to find Fred and George.'

'Do you think he can?' said Mrs. Weasley fearfully.

'He won't rest until he does,' said Harry.

* * *

McGonagall returned to the office with Madam Pomfrey, and some news. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie and Percy would be moved to a 'safehouse' designated by none other than Amelia Bones. In the meantime, a team of Aurors would go to the Burrow and comb through the wreckage for anything salvageable. This news made Harry's stomach twist again, and he'd felt Ginny sag against him. It was horrible to think about, the Burrow being destroyed. It had always been a second home to him, and now it was in ruins.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Mrs. Weasley, and gave her some Dreamless Sleep Draught; Pomfrey also looked over the other Weasleys' injuries and tried to make them drink some tea, but they politely refused. Finally, McGonagall shooed Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny from her office. They said their good-byes to the other Weasleys and dragged themselves back to Gryffindor tower. Or rather, Harry, Hermione and Ginny did; Ron made a beeline for his room. Nobody even had to guess what he'd be up to.

They didn't end up seeing Ron until late into lunchtime. For the past few hours, he'd meditated behind the locked and warded door of his room. Even without being able to use Tactile Sight to locate Fred and George, Ron hoped to make some kind of progress in finding their whereabouts.

When he joined Harry, Hermione and Ginny at lunch and sat down heavily on the bench, he looked cautiously optimistic.

'They're alive,' Ron muttered, leaning in. 'I know that much. And they're being kept in separate rooms, probably a basement somewhere.'

Harry was greatly disappointed, for both Ron and Ginny's sakes, that Ron wasn't able to glean more information, but the news that Fred and George were at least alive was somewhat heartening. Harry knew that ever since Pansy's death, Ron could sense when someone would die. The thought made Harry shudder; all the times he himself had had visions of Voldemort doing something terrible, that terrible night in the graveyard when he'd witnessed Cedric's senseless murder, none of it seemed to compare to what Ron saw when he put his gift to use. It struck Harry, too, as cruelly ironic that such a skill as Seeing could even be called a gift.

And then, unbidden, he remembered something Dumbledore had told him, that the scar Voldemort had given Harry was both blessing and curse. In that moment, Harry understood what Dumbledore meant. It was no different with Ginny, whose Empathic abilities could heal people's hearts from their pain and grief, and yet whose powers, in the course of their healing, would cause pain in the healer.

'Harry, are you okay?' Ginny asked, picking up her glass of pumpkin juice. 'You look really distracted.'

'I'm fine,' he said, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. 'Just thinking.'

He vaguely noticed that the Great Hall was nearly empty; he was about to take a bite of his sandwich when he saw Ron's face go white with fury.

'Ron, what?' Harry hissed.

'Well, well,' said a snide, hateful voice. 'Look who's here.'

Harry turned and felt his stomach twist with fury.

'What do you want, Nott?' Ron snarled, through gritted teeth.

'I just thought I'd ask after your family,' Nott said, smiling coldly. He was flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle. 'I saw them shuffling about in the corridors earlier. How are they feeling? Shame about that house of yours.'

'Go away, Nott,' Ginny snapped.

'Only if you come with me,' said Nott, giving Ginny a lascivious smile. 'If you're nice I might even share you with Draco, seeing as he's obsessed with you.'

Harry felt himself pull his wand from his pocket and stand up before he made a conscious decision to do so; Ron did the same, and both girls followed, keeping their eyes warily on all the boys.

'Back off, Nott,' Harry growled.

'Now, now, Potter,' said Nott smoothly, 'you don't want to cause a scene, do you? I just came by to extend my condolences to the Weasleys. Such a shame about those twins.'

Ron looked like he was ready to launch himself across the table at Nott; Crabbe and Goyle clenched their fists.

'Ron...' Hermione whispered.

'You know where they are, you bastard,' Ron said, in a low dangerous voice. If Ron's eyes had been knives they would have cut holes in Nott's head.

'Afraid not, Weasley,' said Nott. 'I'd love to help you find your degenerate brothers, don't get me wrong.'

Ron again looked poised to spring, and Hermione grabbed his arm and held on.

'Don't...' she whispered.

'Yeah, Ron,' said Harry, glaring at Nott. 'Don't waste your energy on Nott. He doesn't know anything.'

'You see, Weasley?' said Nott, feigning innocence. 'Even Potter believes me.'

'He doesn't know anything,' said Harry, 'because he's not important enough in the club to know. Isn't that right, _Theo?_ You're nothing but an errand boy for Voldemort.'

Nott's eyes flashed with fury for a moment, and Harry saw a muscle in the other boy's jaw twitch, but when Nott spoke, his voice was low and threatening.

'You're all going to die. Every last one of you. You could have joined us, you know, Potter, and made your mark, but you're nothing but Mudblood lover, just like your father. Just like the blood-traitor Weasleys.'

Harry bit back the urge to hex Nott into next week, and instead kept up his sarcasm.

'I'd rather eat dirt than join the likes of you,' he sneered. 'You're pathetic, all of you. You really think Voldemort gives a shit about any of you? You're just slaves to him, little toadies who exist to do his bidding. Tell us, _Theo_. How do Voldemort's boots taste, now you've licked them? Bet you can't wait to lick them again, can you?'

Nott's temple was throbbing, and his hand hovered over his robe pocket; Harry tensed and waited for Nott to go for his wand; Nott was fast, but Harry was faster. If it came down to throwing a curse, both boys knew who would come out on top.

Nott lowered his hand, but his eyes bored into Harry's.

'The Dark Lord is going to tear you open,' he snarled, 'but he'll leave one of your friends for me.' His eyes flickered over to Hermione. 'Maybe I'll get the Mudblood. Finish what Draco couldn't.'

Harry waited for Ron to leap across the table and attempt to throttle Nott, but surprisingly, Ron simply moved slightly in front of Hermione and kept his eyes fixed on Nott. The only indication now of his tension was the slight trembling of his right hand, which clutched his wand.

'You go near her,' he said, in an unnervingly calm voice, 'and I'll hurt you.'

Nott snorted, and suddenly Harry had had enough of this.

'Get out of here, Nott,' he snapped. 'Right now, or I'll hex you so badly they'll be picking you out of the cracks in the walls.'

Nott smirked and gestured to Crabbe and Goyle to follow; they started out of the Great Hall, but halfway to the door, Nott turned and fixed his eyes on Ron.

'You'd best be looking for your brothers, Weasley,' he said. 'They don't have much time left. I'm sure after what happened to Pansy, you wouldn't want to _see_ your brothers die. It's not a pretty _sight_.'

Ron paled and Hermione gripped his arm even tighter as Nott, Crabbe and Goyle stalked out of the Great Hall.

'Bastards,' Harry muttered. 'Ron...are you okay?'

Ron took a deep breath. 'No,' he said. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'

* * *

They left the Great Hall, but were pulled aside along the way by McGonagall, who reported that Fred and George's flat showed signs of 'very minimal damage associated with attempted breaking and entering' but that the wards on the flat were so powerful that the Death Eaters had given up trying to get inside. Now the Aurors were having, in McGonagall's words, a 'devil of a time' taking apart the wards piece by piece in order to get inside and clear out Fred and George's things. The twins' belongings would then be brought--via means McGonagall would not specify--to Hogwarts itself, to be stored in McGonagall's office, whereby Ron could have at whatever he felt he needed to find his brothers. This news served to greatly calm Ron down; Harry was certain his best mate's temper would fray on the spot if one more person gave Ron any grief.

Having been excused from lessons, Ron suggested they all go to his room, and focus on everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. Hermione--who seemed to carry it with her wherever she went--pulled her ever expanding list from her school bag. Harry could tell Ron was anxious to meditate, but he had decided he would wait until he could get his hands on his brothers' stuff. Instead, they began to discuss the confrontation with Nott, among many other things.

'So Nott's the spy,' said Harry, sitting in Ron's desk chair. 'Which begs the question of how he found out about Ron.'

'He's never--damn, pardon the pun--seen me have a vision,' said Ron. 'Which means he must have found out some other way.'

'A third party?' suggested Ginny.

'Malfoy?' Ron countered.

'It's not,' said Ginny confidently. 'I know it's not.'

'We believe you,' said Harry. 'Maybe Nott has an Invisibility Cloak. They're rare but a bloke like Nott would probably not have too much trouble getting one.'

'Maybe,' said Ron, but then he screwed up his face in distaste, 'but that means Nott somehow managed to sneak in here while I was meditating at some point or another. Somehow I doubt that. Even I'm wouldn't be thick enough not to sense it when someone's in my bloody room.'

'And your room is warded and locked with a password,' Hermione added, her eyes scanning down, around and over the list, which she had recopied more neatly, onto several sheets of parchment.

'So listening devices wouldn't work on Ron's door,' Ginny mused.

'Even if they did work, I can't picture Nott standing outside a door with an Extendable Ear,' said Harry. 'It doesn't seem efficient enough for him, or something.'

'So we're back to third party,' said Ron. 'Which means...another person in the school must have known.'

'Great,' said Harry. 'Another spy? How many spies are in this bloody school?'

'What if it wasn't a Slytherin, or a friend of Nott's?' said Hermione. 'What if it was a Gryffindor--'

'Put under the Imperius Curse,' Ron finished darkly. 'Just like Lee.'

For a moment, nobody said anything, and then Ginny's brow furrowed. 'Wait a minute. What about that attack on the shoppe? The Death Eaters stole some invention that Fred and George had been about to ship to the order, right?'

'Noxious Nasal Nuisance,' said Ron. 'Some kind of smelly gas that knocks people out.'

Hermione bit her lip. 'That means Voldemort must be planning to use that stuff against his enemies.'

'And knowing him, he won't be satisfied with a gas that just makes people pass out,' said Harry. 'He'll mess with the formula and make it deadly.'

Ron let out a grunt of frustration and ran his hand through his hair, and then his eyes widened.

'Shit,' he said.

'What?' said Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

'That dream I had!' Ron cried, and then he groaned. 'I don't believe it! Why didn't I see it before?'

'Now what's he talking about?' Harry muttered.

'Harry, the dream!' Ron said insistently. 'Remember? The really mad one I had right after Christmas? All this stuff was going on in it and I could only remember bits and pieces of it and...I just remembered another piece. In the dream, Fred, George and Lee were all standing round a canister of that noxious stuff and...and congratulating each other.'

'When did that happen?' Ginny asked. 'The...the thing with Fred and George and Lee?'

'I dunno, that's just it,' said Ron, sounding frustrated. 'I can never lock down times or dates or anything with this Seer stuff. But all three of them worked on it, I know that much.'

'Wait,' said Hermione, sitting up straighter--she paused to hurriedly scratch something on her list--and getting the familiar flash in her eyes as she puzzled out something.

'Okay,' she said, 'the Death Eaters attack the store, the Burrow and headquarters all on the same day. Why?'

'They wanted the gas stuff,' said Harry at once.

'They wanted to prove a point,' said Ginny, scowling.

'They needed to find a way to locate headquarters,' said Ron.

'Right, on all three counts,' said Hermione.

'Fred and George trusted Lee,' said Harry. 'But if they were developing stuff for the Order, they would have been secretive about it, wouldn't they?'

'Yes,' said Ginny. 'They'd never tell anyone how they go about inventing or developing their stuff, especially if it's for the Order.'

'For safety reasons,' said Hermione. 'They keep it a secret for the same reason Ron and Ginny have kept their gifts a secret: so that if Ron or Ginny were ever caught by Death Eaters and...and tortured for information, or if they used Veritaserum, both of you could honestly say you didn't know how Fred and George created their stuff.'

'But they told Lee,' said Ron. 'He worked on that stuff. And he was at headquarters at Christmas.'

'Do you think they could have gotten to him as far back as that?' said Ginny. 'If he were under Imperius for that long, wouldn't Fred and George have noticed? I mean, they lived together. Not even a really powerful wizard or witch could keep Lee under Imperius for that long without Fred and George figuring it out.'

'Not only that but being under Imperius for that long would have started driving Lee mad,' said Harry. 'Just like Barty Crouch. Sooner or later Lee would have tried to fight back against the curse.'

'So how did the Death Eaters use him, then?'

'A combination of Imperius and Memory Charms,' suggested Hermione. 'Think about it. It's no secret that Lee is a partner in the joke shop and Fred and George's close friend. Someone in Voldemort's organization--if not Voldemort himself--realizes that Fred and George's products have useful applications in battle situations, spying, that sort of thing. But striking Fred and George directly doesn't accomplish much. They need someone on the inside, and who better than Lee?'

'They used him,' said Ron sadly.

'Yes, they did,' Hermione agreed. 'But as for how they did it, Harry's right: prolonged exposure to the Imperius Curse would have started having a deleterious effect on Lee's mind, and he would have eventually tried to fight the curse and warn Fred and George off. A Death Eater must have found a way to get close to Lee; he or she would use Imperius only long enough to get some useful information, and then lift it, but also use a powerful Memory Charm, possibly with a substitute memory, so Lee never got suspicious or thought anything was wrong.'

'Yeah, but who could have gotten close enough to Lee to pull it off?' said Ron.

'Lee wouldn't have felt trustful towards just anyone,' said Ginny. 'It must have been someone he thought he knew.'

'Someone who'd changed their appearance,' said Harry. 'With Polyjuice or a Glamour or something.'

'That makes sense,' said Ron. 'So they get a hold of Lee and use him to gather information on Fred and George. And the location of headquarters, too.'

Hermione tapped her quill against her cheek.

'But if they knew about the location to headquarters back at around Christmastime, why didn't they didn't attack us?' she asked.

Ron gave her the answer.

'Because they wanted what Fred and George were working on, only Fred and George must not have finished it yet at that point. They must have just been developing and testing the stuff.'

'Wait,' said Harry, shaking his head, 'doesn't it just make more sense for the Death Eaters to have kidnapped Lee and used Veritaserum on him? Why spend months playing about with Lee? They could have forced Lee to tell everything he knows, including whatever formula Fred and George were using to make their stuff and the Death Eaters could then have just developed the gas themselves. And they could have attacked us back at Christmas--we were all in that house, it was the perfect opportunity...'

Just as he said this, the revelation came to Harry, and he went on with widening eyes.

'But back then, Voldemort had just found out about a Seer,' he said, and he got up from Ron's chair and began to pace. 'He couldn't be sure at the time if an attack would work. He'd already failed at so many other attempts, and if Voldemort is smart at anything, it's learning from his mistakes. He didn't want to waste man-power on an attack that could be prevented by the foresight of a Seer.'

'So back then, Voldemort didn't know it was me,' said Ron. 'The Death Eaters get to Lee, do their thing with him, and somewhere in the next three months, Voldemort finds out who the Seer is.'

'And proceeds to attack his family from all different directions,' said Ginny heavily. 'The Burrow, Fred and George, Mum and Dad, Bill...'

Ron let out a breath. 'To get around me,' he said. 'If they did all those things at the same time, they might not succeed in every case, but they'd at least hit us somewhere. And the shoppe...Lee would have known how to take down the wards on the shoppe, which means he must have told the Death Eaters at some point.'

Harry swore under his breath at the injustice of it, of using Fred and George's best friend so cruelly. And Lee had died knowing he had unwillingly betrayed his best friends.

'The Death Eaters took their time,' said Hermione. 'They knew if they hit too hard too soon, they wouldn't accomplish anything. They had to play it delicately. So they use Lee, but carefully, and sparingly, only when they really need to. That way Fred and George don't get suspicious that something is off.'

'Lee was so normal that night,' said Ginny. 'Christmas Eve, I mean.' She shuddered.

'He was,' said Harry. 'Completely normal.'

'How did the Death Eaters hide what they were doing so well?' said Ron. 'This is my _family_, I should have seen something sooner.'

For a long moment they all considered this point, and suddenly Hermione's eyes lit up.

'The abductions,' she said. 'Of Anthony and Pansy. Those were the distractions. Of course! Ron, Voldemort knows at Christmastime there's a Seer helping the Order. He doesn't know who it is, but he knows he has to find a way to distract him or her, and fast. So he or one of his Death Eaters does some research, or maybe that Death Eater already knows a thing or two about Seers, including how they train and what methods they use. They could have known about Tactile Sight. So they kidnap Anthony, figuring that a Seer helping the order would be called upon to help find a Muggle-born student, and Voldemort must have figured the Seer would go about looking for Anthony in the most efficient way possible: with Tactile Sight.'

'Only I'd just started training with it,' said Ron, nodding, 'and it left me all worn out, so that I stopped meditating the regular way pretty much altogether.'

'Voldemort couldn't have known that,' said Ginny, 'if he didn't know who the Seer was. For all Voldemort knew the Seer was an expert at Tactile Sight.'

'That doesn't matter,' said Hermione. 'What matters is that the Seer, Ron, was distracted from what they were doing with Lee. And...that's why they took Pansy! To confuse the Seer even more. She's a pure-blood, and her parents never opposed Voldemort, even if they didn't exactly support him, either.'

'So what you're saying,' said Ron, 'is that Voldemort came up with this huge scheme to distract the Seer, whose identity at the time was a mystery, so that he could steal Fred and George's invention and find Order headquarters?'

Hermione started to speak, but suddenly everything clunked in Harry's mind, and he jumped in.

'No,' said Harry. 'Okay, Voldemort was weak back at Christmas. He needed human blood. But by then he'd figured out there was a Seer working against him. He couldn't just go about his usual attacking thing; he needed a new plan, but maybe he was too weak to come up with it on his own. So he delegates. He gets one of his Death Eaters to come up with a plan, and there are two goals. One, get some human prisoners so he can take their blood and two, find a way to do it so the Seer is one step behind.'

'And the stuff with Lee and my brothers fits in where?' said Ron, looking confused.

'That's just it,' said Harry. 'I don't think Voldemort came up with that idea. I think a Death Eater did. A really clever, ruthless Death Eater, with a personal stake in going after your family.'

Ron swallowed, and Ginny paled.

'Lucius Malfoy,' she said.

'Bloody hell,' said Ron. 'He was in the store when the Death Eaters attacked Fred and George!'

'You really believe he planned this, Harry?' said Hermione.

'Yeah, I do,' said Harry. 'A plan like that? It took time, and it was subtle. That's how Lucius Malfoy works. He worked that way for a whole year inside the Ministry in our fifth year, remember?'

'Would he have been the one to go to Lee?' said Ginny. 'That doesn't seem like him.'

'No,' said Harry. 'I agree there. They probably got someone else to deal directly with Lee. But the plan itself...it's Malfoy to a tee.'

'And given that his secret's out and everyone knows he's a Death Eater,' said Ron, 'and he can't be Voldemort's inside guy at the Ministry, Lucius must have wanted to prove himself in some way.'

'And Draco,' Ginny piped up. 'Lucius must have been embarrassed that his son couldn't live up to his Death Eater obligations. So Lucius comes up with a plan that covers everything: he gets victims for Voldemort, diverts the Seer, gets a new weapon for the Death Eaters--Fred and George's gas stuff--and he finds the location of Order headquarters.'

'And in the meantime, Malfoy manages to get back at us,' said Ron darkly. 'But...doesn't that mean Lucius knew about me earlier, then?'

'Not necessarily,' said Harry. 'In fact, it wouldn't have even mattered, technically, if Lucius didn't know who the Seer was. Either way he'd be getting back at the Weasleys and giving Voldemort a lot of nice presents. Either way, he'd be able to make his mission personal, while still giving Voldemort what he wants.'

Ron groaned and ran a hand through his hair. 'That still doesn't tell us when or how any of them learned about me being the Seer. How did Nott find out if he didn't actually see me have a vision? The only people apart from you lot and the teachers who've seen me have one of those spontaneous things are...were...Pansy and Malfoy.'

'Pansy, who's dead,' said Ginny, 'and Malfoy, who can't lie to me about anything.'

Ron sighed and sat heavily on his bed, leaning against the headboard; he closed his eyes, and for a while, nobody spoke; everyone seemed to be trying to absorb this overload of information. The only sound was the scratching of Hermione's quill as she continued to fill up another page of parchment with the information they were hashing out.

It was then that Ron's eyes snapped open.

'Goyle,' he said suddenly.

'What?' said Harry.

'Goyle,' said Ron. 'Why can't Goyle be the third party?'

They all looked at him in disbelief, but Ron waved his hands and spoke quickly.

'Hear me out,' he said. 'Last night I catch Nott and Goyle talking about getting something for Voldemort--that cling thingy or whatever it is. It's like...Goyle just got back from talking with Voldemort, or someone close to Voldemort, yeah? So Goyle's, like, the messenger boy or something.'

'Ron, Goyle has the intellectual capacity of a sea sponge,' said Hermione.

'And that's being generous,' said Harry.

'Anyway, Ron, if Nott wasn't able to spy on you somehow, what makes you think Goyle would?' said Ginny. 'He really is just too dumb.'

'And maybe the dumb act is just that, an act,' said Ron. 'He was smart enough to deliver that important message--okay, so talking about it in a corridor is stupid--but the guy's a Death Eater in training and somebody seems to be telling him important stuff.'

'It'd be nice if we could figure out what the hell "cling" is supposed to mean,' said Harry.

'I have the sneaking suspicion this cling that Voldemort wants isn't plastic wrap,' said Hermione sarcastically.

'But it must be in here,' said Ginny, 'at Hogwarts, if Nott is expected to get it.'

'_Another_ thing in Hogwarts that Voldemort wants?' said Ron incredulously. 'Whatever happened to storing stuff at Gringott's, anyway? It's not like that place is that easy to get into, especially now.'

'Well, Dumbledore was here,' said Hermione, 'and he was the only wizard Voldemort feared. Maybe this means this cling object was under Dumbledore's protection while he was alive. Maybe it even belonged to him.'

Harry thought about all the strange objects Dumbledore used to keep in his office. He had always figured most of them were useful and even powerful, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they all were or which object Voldemort might want.

'Practically everything Dumbledore had went to his brother,' said Harry, feeling suddenly very troubled. How could Aberforth Dumbledore possibly hope to protect his brother's belongings, living as he did above the Hog's Head?

Any further musings on the complex plans of Voldemort were interrupted by a sharp knock on Ron's door. Ron picked up his wand, lowered the wards on the door, and it opened softly.

Professor McGonagall strode in.

'Mr. Weasley,' she said, 'we've obtained your brothers' things.'

* * *

Harry would later recall there were few times he'd seen Ron run so fast to McGonagall's office as the moment she'd announced the arrival of Fred and George's effects from their flat. The Headmistress did not even bother to admonish him to slow down, or to mind that he had an Auror escort. Hermione sprinted after Ron, yelling at him to slow down.

'He'll find my door locked and warded when he gets there and have to wait for me, anyway,' said McGonagall, and she turned to leave Ron's room when Harry spoke up.

'Professor,' he said, 'Ron told you about the conversation he overheard Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle having, didn't he?'

'Yes, Mr. Potter, he did,' said McGonagall, 'this morning. And I'll tell him what I told you: Dumbledore possesses no such object as a "cling", whatever that is, and no such object is being stored inside Hogwarts. But if you are indeed worried, I can assure you that Dumbledore's effects are being kept safe. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get to my office before Mr. Weasley pulls out his hair.'

* * *

For the next week, Ron meditated more than Harry thought possible. He had taken piles of Fred and George's things back to his room, and he seemed to be using everything. Their old school brooms; their Christmas jumpers; some of their latest fake wands; their dragon skin jackets. By the end of the week, everything Fred and George owned was rumpled from Ron clutching them during his meditations.

Professor McGonagall refused, however, to allow Ron to miss lessons, which incensed him.

'Bloody N.E.W.Ts, who cares?' he grumbled. 'These are my _brothers_.'

Hermione wisely said nothing, and Harry made a show of agreeing with Ron, just for the sake of solidarity. But Harry thought McGonagall had a point; the rigors of this new level of Ron's gift left him utterly exhausted and pale. He raced through his meals to allow for extra time to meditate, and within two days, the blue marks beneath Ron's eyes told Harry he wasn't sleeping much. Lessons, however difficult, at least provided Ron a physical and mental respite from his Seer business.

'Can't you get him to slow down at all?' Hermione asked him irritably one morning (Ron was in his room meditating; he'd taken to stuffing a few pieces of toast in his mouth as he raced to class).

'No,' said Harry firmly. 'He's a Weasley, what do you expect? Stubborn bunch, all of them.'

Ginny gave him an affectionate roll of her eyes and swatted him gently on the arm, but Harry could sense her worry for her older brothers.

By Wednesday of that week, Ron was tired and irritable, but he reported that Fred and George were still alive and, he was quite sure, somewhere in the United Kingdom, most likely in a Muggle area.

'Saw street signs,' he said, munching hurriedly on some bacon. 'All of 'em were in English. And cars, driving on the left.'

'Ron, chew your food or you'll choke,' said Hermione, shaking her head.

Ron's response was to swallow the mouthful of bacon, take a big gulp of lukewarm coffee, and peck Hermione on the cheek.

'See you in lessons, love,' he said, and off he went to his room for another cycle of Tactile Sight.

Harry was all set to cancel Quidditch practice that week, but Ginny begged him to leave it on; she needed the distraction. Ron, however, demurred, and Dean wound up having a go. By the end, Harry felt somewhat better, particularly after a hot shower, but then the feeling of uneasiness returned.

Fred and George were still missing. Voldemort could be draining their blood at any moment. Somewhere in the castle was something that Voldemort wanted. Again. Only this time, Harry didn't have one clue what it could be. Then there were the Weasleys. For reasons of security, they were effectively incommunicado; they'd been moved to whatever secure location Minister Bones had chosen, and Ron and Ginny hadn't heard one word since, and were instructed in no uncertain terms that they must not attempt to make contact. Harry wondered if the situation would become a repeat of what Hermione had gone through and was still going through, with her parents. But even the temporary, total separation was taking its toll on Ron and Ginny.

The uneasiness was relieved somewhat by news from McGonagall that Bill had fully recovered and that, after a full twenty-four hours of very frantic effort on the part of several Healers, Fleur would recover, and the baby she carried would survive. Ron and Ginny greeted this news with no small amount of relief, and for a few days, anyway, they allowed themselves to be thankful that one more family member had managed to survive a brutal encounter with Death Eaters and get out in one piece.

Meanwhile, Hagrid had taken over Care of Magical Creatures. Harry, Ron and Hermione prepared themselves for the worst.

'He got a Graphorn,' said Hermione. 'You just watch. All that time in the mountains...'

'Or a lethifold,' said Ron, shuddering.

'Only if he stopped off in Tahiti on his way back to Hogwarts,' said Hermione. 'Ron, lethifolds are tropical creatures.'

'Good,' said Ron. 'Remind me never to go to Tahiti.'

But when Hagrid appeared for the lesson, he announced that they would be working toward finishing up their unit on Pygmy Spiketails, owing to an unfortunate incident with the small herd of nogtails he'd brought back.

Harry never did find out what the incident with the nasty pig-like creatures entailed, but by and large, he never minded being bored in one of Hagrid's lessons. Boredom beat grave danger, at any rate, especially now.

Except for today, where Ron was so anxious, and Hermione fretful, and Harry himself uneasy.

On top of everything, Harry was supposed to start Empath training with Ginny, but with the events surrounding Ginny's family, Mrs. Tonks felt it best to be pushed back a bit. Harry had to admit he didn't mind this; for one thing, Ginny needed a break from her Empath training, and Harry himself wasn't much in the mood for it, either. The one good thing on that issue was that Ginny was no longer working with Draco Malfoy anymore.

'He has nothing useful to say, anyway,' said Ginny, shrugging.

Indeed, Harry had observed Malfoy recently and saw that the boy who had once been his biggest school rival was now fully retreated within himself. Draco spoke to no one; he attended lessons, did his class assignments and turned in his homework with the air of an automaton. A rumor began that week that Malfoy had quit the Quidditch team; this was confirmed for Harry when he saw the Slytherins come into the castle from a practice and Malfoy was not among the seven players; instead, there was a smallish girl with mousy brown hair that Harry vaguely recognized, but whose name he couldn't place. She seemed a bit out of her element, given her diminutive size and the fact that she was female; the Slytherin team had never seemed to even allow girls on their team.

Harry wound up using whatever free time he could to finish his Auror applications, which, if he were honest with himself, probably could have been done better. But then, when one was charged with defeating the most evil wizard in the world, one could reasonably claim one had better things to do than make sure his job applications were picture-perfect.

Harry mailed his Auror applications on Thursday, and was surprised to find Ron in the owlery, doing the same thing.

'When did you find time to get yours done?' Harry asked.

'I stayed up last night to finish them,' said Ron, his voice hoarse. 'I just wanted to get them off my back, you know?'

Harry knew, but he was truly alarmed to see how pale Ron had become; even his freckles seemed faded. The circles under his eyes were dark, like bruises. His hair hung limply across his forehead and he looked as though he'd lost a bit of weight over the course of the week. His robes seemed to be slightly too big for him, which was saying something, given Ron's six feet and three inches of height.

'Gotta go,' Ron said, starting to hurry from the owlery after the barn owl he'd chosen flew off with his remaining Auror applications.

'Ron, wait,' said Harry. 'You...you look like hell.'

'Thanks,' said Ron dryly.

'Just...take care of yourself, please?'

Ron pressed his lips together. 'I will when I find them,' he said shortly, and he left the room. Harry sighed and shook his head, and then whistled softly. Hedwig swooped down from a perch high up in the owlery and gently nipped him on the ear as she perched on his shoulder.

'Hey, girl,' said Harry, handing her the applications. 'Take these to the Ministry, yeah?'

Hedwig hooted, took the letters in her outstretched claw, and flew away in a great flap of white wings.

It was only when he returned to the dormitory that Harry noticed two more job applications. He groaned and wracked his brain to see if he'd missed something, but then he saw what the applications were for: teaching positions. One was as an apprentice Defense teacher, at Hogwarts. The other was for an apprenticeship at Beauxbatons. He found himself staring at the applications for fifteen minutes before he decided to fill them out.

_Might as well.__ Assuming I live long enough to _have_ a career, the Aurors just might not want me. Best to cover myself._

He mailed the Beauxbatons application, using a small eagle owl, and slipped the Hogwarts one under McGonagall's door. There was something unnerving about applying for a job, really. The physical act of sending in job applications served to drive home in Harry the not altogether pleasant reality that he would be leaving Hogwarts soon, for good. He had no real illusions that he'd take the teaching job, after all. He could tell himself that the Auror programs might not take him, but deep down Harry knew this wouldn't be the case. He was the top Defense student in the school, his marks in his other subjects had steadily improved since fifth year, and if he actually did manage to defeat Voldemort without dying in the process, Harry knew the Auror programs would be clamoring to enroll him.

He then thought of Ron, who, he had to admit, had shown more dedication to this whole career thing than he had. In fact, Ron had worked harder than he all year, if Harry were honest. Ron deserved to be an Auror as much as Harry did, didn't he?

Yes, he did, Harry decided, because even if Ron wasn't quite as quick or agile as Harry, Ron was nevertheless very good at Defense now. The sort one would want to have on one's side in a dangerous situation. He was even figuring out how to control his temper: Harry thought back to the confrontation with Nott earlier in the week. Ron had managed to resist the urge to pummel Nott after he'd threatened Hermione. This kind of control was a bit weird to see in Ron, given his vastly protective nature where Hermione was concerned, but it told Harry that Ron was, more and more, determined to keep his head in those situations, because that's what would be required of an Auror.

_I hope Ron gets accepted. I don't want to be an Auror without him._

* * *

By Friday, Ron still hadn't found Fred and George, and he looked even worse than he had the day before, but the determination in his eyes, however mingled with frustration, hadn't dimmed.

'I'm close,' was all he said on the subject of locating his brothers.

Nott and his cronies continued to smirk and snigger whenever Ron walked by, but he ignored them. Harry was finding such restraint a bit more difficult; he was tired of seeing Nott's smug, arrogant face, of knowing that Nott had gotten away with acting as a spy for Voldemort and the school was doing nothing about it.

Ginny reminded him that McGonagall was fully aware of Nott's business now, and that Snape was watching Nott like a hawk, so it wasn't as if Nott could get away with too much.

That night, Harry returned to Professor Hopkirk's office for a second test run of the blood potion. Ron wasn't there this time, but Hermione, Ginny, Snape and Hopkirk were. The presence of Snape bothered Harry no small amount, but then he noticed that Hopkirk had relegated herself to the corner of her office and was letting Snape direct everything. Harry didn't have to guess why Hopkirk was doing this. She didn't seem to trust herself around him anymore, and if Harry were honest with himself, he had to admit he wasn't sure if he trusted himself around her.

Hopkirk met his eyes then, and quickly looked away. She seemed to shrink back just slightly, as though she didn't want to get too close to him. Harry was grateful for this.

'Right, then, Potter,' said Snape, his voice breaking into Harry's reverie. 'Are you ready?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, suddenly feeling very nervous. This time would be different: Harry would attempt to use Occlumency while under the influence of the potion, in order to keep Voldemort from intruding on his thoughts.

Hermione handed him a small flask of the potion. Harry gave Ginny a quick smile before downing it, slowly, letting the thick liquid slide down his throat.

As before, nothing happened for about ten seconds, but then there was the rush of power, and images and voices inside his mind and behind his eyes. All of them uniformly wonderful: getting his Nimbus 2000; winning his first Quidditch match; hugging Hermione after she'd recovered from being Petrified; saving Buckbeak and Sirius; winning the Quidditch cup; kissing Ginny on Halloween; spending Christmas, in first year, at Hogwarts with Ron and getting presents for the first time; his first D.A. lesson; his mother holding him as a baby, singing softly to him...

Harry knew he was smiling, laughing, and he felt tears on his face. Such joy seemed impossible, and yet he felt it, down to his very bones. The power of it should have staggered him, but somehow, he felt stronger today, more sure of himself, more aware.

From somewhere far away, Harry heard Snape suddenly shout a curse; Harry lifted his arm as the curse bounced away; with a single sweep of his arm, Harry disarmed Snape. Snape retrieved his wand and tried the throw Cruciatus at Harry; the spell again bounced away.

And then Harry felt it. A sudden, painful twinging in his scar.

Voldemort. Harry quickly closed his mind to everything; the joyous visions and voices faded.

And then something extraordinary happened. The burning in his scar grew, but amazingly, it stopped hurting, and suddenly a great wash of light poured from it, such that Ginny, Hermione, Snape and Hopkirk had to shield their eyes. Harry squeezed his own eyes shut against the light, and he knew he was blocking Voldemort. It was working! The potion, and Occlumency, working together!

And then there was the sharp pain again, and Harry saw new images, of the dark haired boy in the room full of beds.

_It's Tom Riddle..._

_Don't let Voldemort inside your head! You shouldn't be seeing this..._

The young Tom was surrounded by other boys, all of whom were taunting him, pushing him. The dark haired boy was crying, but the look in his eyes was hateful. One of the other boys, a tall, beefy sandy-haired one, held in his hands a photograph. It was the photograph Tom kept by his bedside, the picture of the pretty woman. The sandy-haired boy sneered and hurled the picture to the floor, where the glass shattered. Then he stomped on the picture, breaking the frame. Tom wailed and lunged forward, but two other boys held him fast as the sandy-haired boy pulled the picture from the frame and tore it to bits. Tom screamed...

'NO!!!'

Tom's voice blended with Harry's as the boy collapsed to the floor in tears, picking up the torn pieces of the woman's picture. The other boys stared down at him, scowling.

'Freak,' one of them jeered, and he gave Tom a sharp kick that the boy barely noticed, so distraught was he over the ruined photograph. The other boys walked away, and Harry felt his heart twisted as he watched Tom clutch the scraps of the photograph to his chest and sob quietly. The boy's pain was so acute Harry struggled to breathe. And then Tom's sobs quieted, and Harry felt suddenly, bitterly cold, as though his blood had been drained and ice water now flowed in his veins. Tom looked up, and his black eyes glittered now not with sorrow, but with hatred.

The boy's face faded and for a moment, the thin, stretched face of Voldemort appeared. Harry grunted and fell to his knees as the potion's effects faded.

He was sweating and panting again, and now his knees ached.

Ginny was at his side, and before he could stop her, she touched his forehead with her palm and soothed him.

'Don't...' Harry whispered, but he was too weak to stop her, and he felt his eyes sting when Ginny's face tightened in pain. But still she held on, still she absorbed his exhaustion and made it her own. She finally let go of him and he saw that she, too, was panting.

'Potter,' said Snape sharply, ' are you all right?'

Harry looked up at Snape, who didn't look so much concerned as annoyed in some way.

'Fine,' said Harry, although of course he didn't feel fine. In fact, he felt worse than the last time, and he was sure using Occlumency while under the influence of the potion had something to do with it.

'Were you able to block the Dark Lord from your mind?' Snape asked, not bothering to help Harry or Ginny to stand.

'Yeah,' said Harry, taking a deep breath. 'At first.'

'Your scar flared,' said Hopkirk, speaking for the first time. 'What do you make of that?'

'I think that was the Occlumency,' said Harry, wiping his brow. 'My scar got hot but it didn't hurt during that. Only...I couldn't keep it up. I saw Tom Riddle again, when he was a kid. I think he was in that orphanage; a bunch of other kids were making fun of him and tore up this woman's picture.'

'As interesting as the Dark Lord's childhood no doubt is,' said Snape sarcastically, 'I think it instructive, Potter, that you were unable to maintain your mental block. If you can see into the Dark Lord's mind, he can see into yours. Unless, of course, you've become an expert Legilimens.'

'I'm pretty good at it by now,' said Harry defensively.

'Yes, well, that was before you started trying to do it while taking this potion,' said Snape. 'Clearly you're going to need a lot more work, which doesn't surprise me in the least.'

Harry scowled at Snape, but said nothing; Snape raised an eyebrow, but continued.

'Fortunately the results tonight are encouraging. You were able to block the Dark Lord temporarily while under the influence of the potion, with no ill effects.'

_No ill effects. Yeah, right. I feel like I've been through a wringer about a thousand times, but other than that, the potion had no ill effects._

But even as he thought this, Harry noticed that he was regaining his strength more quickly than he had last week. Of course, Ginny had something to do with that, and he didn't like to think of that. If it came down to Harry having a mind fight with Voldemort while taking this potion, he needed to be strong of his own accord. He couldn't rely on Ginny to restore him. Not because she couldn't do it, but because as far as Harry was concerned, he didn't want Ginny anywhere near Voldemort. The fight was his, and would always be his, even if his friends helped him get there.

Snape, meanwhile, turned sharply to Hopkirk.

'I think, Griselda,' he said, 'it might be wise to start testing Potter more frequently. At least twice a week.'

Harry blinked to hear Snape use Professor Hopkirk's first name.

'Do you think he's up for it?' said Hopkirk, folding her arms across her chest.

'I'm right here,' said Harry, not caring that he sounded rude, but he hated it when people discussed him as though he weren't present.

'Well, Potter?' said Snape loftily. 'Do you think you can handle twice-weekly testing?'

'I suppose I have to,' said Harry coolly. Then he added, 'Sir.'

'Very good then,' said Snape. 'What do you think, Griselda? Next Tuesday evening, same time?'

'That's fine,' said Hopkirk. She kept her eyes off Harry and said nothing else.

Harry noticed that Hermione and Ginny both looked a bit fretful; they clearly were worried the toll using the potion might take on him. But they also looked resigned. And it was true: there was no getting around any hardships anymore. Not if Voldemort was to be defeated.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Harry awoke to find Ginny crying softly next to him.

She'd spent the night with him in his bed, which had been surrounded by various privacy charms. They'd talked a little, and held each other, and kissed feverishly, their hands gliding over flesh and pulling at clothing until they were both clad in only their knickers. After a little bit of pleading on Harry's part, Ginny let him slide off her knickers and do what he'd been wanting to do since the night he'd first touched her there. She'd made sweet little whimpers, and she tasted of heaven and honey and girl, and the force of her orgasm had sent him hurtling. Afterward he had pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her naked skin against his, and he wondered when it would be that they could make love, that he could be inside her softness and know her completely.

As if she'd read his mind, she lifted her head and kissed his lips.

'Soon,' she said, her eyes sleepy, and then she settled back down onto his chest.

But now, she was sitting up, wearing his t-shirt, leaning against his headboard with her knees drawn up to her chin.

'Hey,' Harry whispered. He climbed up beside her and pulled her close. 'What's wrong?' The ache inside her poured into him, and he clutched her more tightly.

She looked at him sadly. 'It's their birthday,' she sniffed.

'What?'

'Fred and George,' she whispered. 'It's April the first. Their birthday.'

_April Fool's Day. Maybe Fred and George will show up at school today and announce it was all a bad joke. _

Harry closed his eyes as she buried her face in his neck.

'Ron'll find them,' Harry said fiercely, so fiercely that he believed it at that moment. 'You'll see, Ginny.'

'What if he doesn't find them in time?' Ginny whimpered.

'Don't think like that,' Harry insisted. 'Ron'll find them in plenty of time, and they'll be okay.'

She looked up again at him, her face streaked with tears. 'Do you believe that?'

'We have to,' said Harry, brushing her tears away with his thumbs.

She took a deep breath and nodded, but then she sighed.

'I feel guilty,' she said.

'About what?'

'Last night,' said Ginny, looking at her knees.

'Oh,' said Harry, feeling a bit stung. 'Was it...not good?'

Ginny suddenly laughed, a real laugh. 'Good lord, Harry,' she said, smiling at him. She placed a hand on his cheek. 'It was amazing. I felt like I was flying and crashing at the same time.'

'Oh,' said Harry again. 'Well, good.'

'I just meant,' said Ginny, 'that I feel guilty that...that we did something like that last night, something that felt good...when...when everything's so bad right now.'

'Don't,' Harry begged. 'Ginny...please don't say you regretted that, okay? I know things are bad but...sometimes you're the only one who makes me feel alive and whole, like maybe someday we'll see this whole mess through and have something to look forward to.'

'You mean, like a...a future?' she said. 'Together?'

'Maybe,' he said, shrugging. 'I mean...it's probably mad to try and plan for too much, but...I love you and I want to be with you, even now in the middle of all this, especially now, because you're real, and we're real and this is real and good.'

Ginny's eyes filled again. 'I love you,' she whispered, and he hugged her fiercely. For a moment, he remembered all the times Susan had told him those same words, and he'd always loved hearing it, but it was different coming from Ginny. It was more...real, somehow, as though, when she said the words, they penetrated his very skin.

'I love you, too,' he said, and they held each other for a while. Then she stirred in his arms.

'I should go,' said Ginny, and she reached down to the foot of the bed where her clothes had been carelessly shoved, and began to dress. Harry watched her; her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when she pulled off his shirt, but she forced herself not to rush. The combination of her shyness and boldness was endearing; the sight of her body, of the freckles dusting her creamy skin--and they were everywhere--made the blood in Harry's body rush south again. He grabbed her hand.

'Do you have to go now?' he asked, as she reached for her jumper.

Her eyes skipped down to his crotch, where an erection was tenting his boxers.

'Harry,' she said, shaking her head. 'Yes, I should go. I'm starving, it's late and it'd be weird for me to be here and be seen by the other guys.'

Harry pouted, but he let go of her hand and got dressed himself.

'We can come back here later, though, can't we?' he asked.

She gave him a soft smile. 'Maybe,' she said. 'Now, come on, I'm starving and I need to--'

Whatever Ginny needed to do, Harry never found out, because suddenly someone burst into the boys' dormitory.

'Harry! Ginny!'

It was Hermione, and she sounded positively frantic.

Harry yanked open his bedcurtains; Ginny didn't seem to notice. Suddenly, propriety didn't seem all that important, and in any case the dormitory was empty but for the three of them, after all.

'Hermione, what's wrong?' said Harry, and suddenly he felt a horrible bubble of nausea. 'Is it Ron?'

'He's in the hospital wing,' said Hermione, and her eyes were wild and bright.

'What?' said Harry.

'What happened?' said Ginny. 'Is Ron okay?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione, and her eyes flooded with tears, but she wiped at them roughly. 'But apparently he found Fred and George.'


	42. Chapter Forty Two: Reassembling

_Chapter Forty Two: Reassembling_

Harry, Ginny and Hermione raced to the hospital wing and burst through the door, nearly colliding with Madam Pomfrey.

'Potter!' said Pomfrey angrily. 'And Miss Granger and Miss Weasley! What is the meaning of this? You do not sprint into the hospital wing and go banging through doors.'

Harry ignored the lecture.

'What's wrong with Ron?' he demanded. 'Where is he?'

'Please, Madam Pomfrey,' Hermione begged tearfully. 'We have to see him!'

'Will you lot calm down?' Madam Pomfrey hissed. 'You're making a scene; you'll upset my patients.'

Ginny grabbed the wrists of both Harry and Hermione, and spoke in a tight but quiet voice.

'We're sorry, Madam Pomfrey,' she said. 'But we heard about Ron and we don't know what's going on. Won't you tell us?'

Pomfrey gave the three of them a stern look; Ginny poured some calming emotion into Harry and Hermione--Harry was alarmed to see her try this with two people at once--but she stubbornly clung to his and Hermione's wrists until their more hysterical feelings passed. Ginny bit her lip against the pain her powers caused, and let them go.

It was at that moment that Professor McGonagall strode into the room.

'Ah,' she said. 'Potter, Granger, Weasley. I need to see you in my office, right now.'

'But what about Ron?' Hermione asked, her eyes filling. 'What's wrong with him? Can't we see him?'

'Mr. Weasley needs his rest,' said Madam Pomfrey firmly. 'He's suffering from acute exhaustion and mild mental trauma and he is not to be disturbed.'

Harry blanched.

What did that mean, mild mental trauma? Good lord, what had Ron seen? What had happened to Fred and George?

Harry saw the color drain from both Ginny and Hermione's faces, and knew they were thinking the same thing.

'What happened?' Harry asked desperately.

'I'll explain everything in my office,' said McGonagall, in a firm but kind voice. 'Please, come with me. Madam Pomfrey is right. Mr. Weasley needs his rest, and what I have to tell you is not meant to be said here.'

Ginny swallowed and grabbed Harry's hand, fear spiking through her and into him.

_Oh, god. Ron was too late. Fred and George..._

_Don't think that. Don't ever think that._

Harry forced himself to smile reassuringly at Ginny and squeeze her hand. Her fear eased, but only slightly.

'Come with me,' said McGonagall, and she started out of the hospital wing. Harry, Ginny and Hermione followed in her wake, all three of them dreading what they were about to hear.

* * *

'Mr. Weasley came to my office a short while ago with news that he had located his brothers,' said McGonagall, sitting at her desk as Harry, Ginny and Hermione took chairs across it. 'When I let him in, he could hardly stand, he looked so weak. He was able to tell me where Fred and George were, but almost the minute the information was out of his mouth, he collapsed.'

Hermione put a hand over her mouth and tears began to fall down her cheeks. Ginny's eyes shone with unshed tears, and Harry again took her hand.

'Will he be okay?' he asked.

'Eventually,' said McGonagall. 'I won't lie to you. His condition is serious. I had just come from a consultation with Professor Firenze when I went to the hospital wing in search of you three. Based on Mr. Weasley's appearance and behavior, his collapse, and on Firenze's observations, it appears Ron pushed himself far too hard in his meditations, and it took a toll on him, physically and mentally.'

'Mentally?' said Ginny, horrified.

'There is a possibility--a minor possibility but a possibility nonetheless-that Ron might have suffered...brain damage as a result of his overworking himself,' said McGonagall, and just now, she sounded very upset.

'Oh, god,' Hermione whispered, and she put her face in her hands.

Harry felt sick. 'But there's a chance he's okay, right? That he'll be okay?'

'Of course there is,' said McGonagall. 'He's young and very healthy otherwise, and Firenze informs me that he is quite strong in all respects; he could make a full recovery. But we won't know that until he wakes up, and that won't be for hours. Madam Pomfrey must keep him unconscious in order to do a full examination, and it may come down to it that Mr. Weasley needs to go to St. Mungo's.'

'Hours,' Hermione repeated dully.

By now, Ginny was crying softly. 'He did that...he put himself through that just to find Fred and George,' she whispered.

'Yes, he did,' said McGonagall. 'Which brings me to my second piece of news. Not only was Mr. Weasley able to locate your brothers, but an Auror team dispatched by Kingsley Shacklebolt has found them.'

Ginny gasped and sat up. 'Where?'

'In Knockturn Alley,' said McGonagall. 'Off the main road, in the basement of an abandoned building.'

'They're alive?' said Harry hopefully.

'Yes,' said McGonagall, 'They're at St. Mungo's right now.'

'Do my mum and dad know?' Ginny asked.

'Yes, they do,' said McGonagall. 'I imagine your parents are at the hospital right now.'

'I have to go there,' said Ginny, leaping up from her chair. 'If I can't see Ron, I...I need to see Fred and George...'

'And you will,' said McGonagall, standing up. 'Just stay calm. I've prepared an Emergency Portkey for all three of you. Nymphadora Tonks and Professor Lupin will meet you in the lobby of the hospital. She and Remus will explain everything. Once you're there, don't go wandering off, and above all try to stay calm, for the sake of your parents. You can stay for no longer than two hours--the Portkey will go off automatically at noon and I expect all of you back in my office by then. You will go about your day as you normally would, and say nothing of this.'

'What about Ron?' said Hermione.

'You can see Ron after you get back,' said McGonagall kindly. 'Poppy will have been able to work out a prognosis for him by then, I imagine.'

'Th-thank you, Professor,' Ginny said weakly. Harry helped her stand up; she was trembling slightly. Hermione took a deep breath and stood as well, while McGonagall fetched an old ledger from her desk drawer.

'One more thing,' said McGonagall, holding out the ledger. 'I've told Molly and Arthur about Ron but...I haven't told them any details, just that he was feeling very badly this morning and went to the hospital wing for a rest. I'm not inclined to mention the seriousness of his condition to them just yet, until Madam Pomfrey can give me a better assessment of his prognosis, so I would ask you not to say anything about the specifics regarding Ron. They'll have enough of a time dealing with everything else. Now, go on. Take hold of this.'

One by one, Harry, Ginny and Hermione placed their fingers around the edges of the ledger.

'One, two, three...'

Harry felt the yanking behind his navel, and McGonagall's office spun away in a whirl.

* * *

The three of them landed in the very busy lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital. Harry opened his eyes and fought the dizziness and the light-headedness that was settling in; he only then remembered he hadn't eaten any breakfast.

'Harry!' a female voice shouted. He looked up to see Tonks and Remus Lupin hurrying towards him, Hermione and Ginny. They all hugged hard and fast, an all-too-brief respite from the madness of the past week.

'Hey,' said Harry weakly.

'Professor,' Ginny whispered, 'what's happening?'

'Come with us,' said Lupin.

Both girls looked slightly bewildered, and Harry put an arm round Ginny on one side, and Hermione on the other and gave them a gentle tug.

'Where are my parents?' Ginny asked fretfully, allowing Harry to steer her after Lupin and Tonks.

'They're in consultation with the medi-wizard working on Fred and George,' said Tonks briskly, leading them quickly out of the lobby and down a corridor.

After a few minutes they came to an unlocked, empty janitor's closet.

'This'll do,' said Tonks, and she gestured everyone to go inside.

'_Lumos,_' said Lupin, illuminating his wand. Then he lit a few sconces, and the closet was bathed in eerie, flickering light.

'Sorry for the location,' said Tonks, as she began to tap the walls of the room with her wand, 'but I don't want anyone listening in. Security's so tight right now...'

'Can you at least tell us if Fred and George are okay?' Ginny begged, as Lupin, too, took to tapping the walls with his own wand.

'They'll make it,' said Tonks, giving one wall a last series of taps. 'All clear.'

'Tell us what's going on, Remus,' said Harry, holding onto Ginny on one side, and Hermione on the other.

Lupin looked very grave in that moment; he also looked quite tired, and Harry remembered that it had been a full moon just a few nights ago.

'Fred and George will survive,' said Lupin. 'But I have to prepare you all. They suffered, quite horribly.'

Ginny gave a small whimper and snuggled closer to Harry.

'When we found them,' said Tonks, 'they'd been left for dead. We were lucky we got to them when we did.'

'They were tortured,' said Harry. It wasn't a question.

'Yes,' said Lupin. 'And it appears they both lost a lot of blood. There were puncture wounds on their arms, as if they'd had blood withdrawn. And...'

His voice trailed off. He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to say what was next. Harry held his breath.

'They...cut Fred,' Lupin said heavily. 'His legs, and his arms. The wounds themselves were not all that deep or serious, though they caused some of the worst of his blood loss. But...they caused an infection, and it took hold in his right arm. Gangrene. It's likely the Healers will have to amputate the arm.'

'Oh, my god,' Ginny whispered, and she began to cry. Harry pushed back the urge to throw up, and Hermione stood, frozen and silent, her mouth slightly open in shocked horror.

'What about George?'

If Lupin looked stricken talking about Fred, his face became a mask of utter grief just now.

'As near as we can gather they used Cruciatus on both of them,' said Lupin hoarsely. 'But in George's case...'

Ginny gasped. 'No.'

'They broke his mind,' said Lupin. 'He's in the Spell Damage area. They're working on him now but...it doesn't look hopeful.'

'No,' Ginny sobbed. 'No, no, no...'

She buried her face in Harry's shoulder; he let go of Hermione to wrap his arms fully around Ginny and stroke her hair.

A mixture of anguish and fury raced through his body. He struggled to fight the anger, the urge to hit something, to hurt someone, to destroy something. Ginny was distraught, she needed him...

He took a deep breath and concentrated on Ginny's tangled hair. Hermione, meanwhile, spoke.

'They did all that,' she said, sounding horrified, 'even though they'd already gotten Fred and George's invention?'

Lupin nodded. 'I don't think...Fred and George were tortured for information. Just for...sport.'

Ginny looked up, her face livid despite her tears.

'The Death Eaters were proving a point, remember?' she said savagely. 'Take down the blood traitors. They could have killed Fred and George but...but no, that was too easy, wasn't it? Why not let Fred and George and the rest of us really suffer?' She gave another despairing sob and collapsed against Harry again.

'Is there nothing they can do for George?' said Hermione. 'He can't really be...insane now, can he?'

'He was babbling when we found him,' said Tonks. 'He didn't know where he was, or who he was, or who we were.'

Lupin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'It's like Frank and Alice all over again,' he said, almost to himself.

At this, Harry's head snapped up.

'What did you say?' he asked. Ginny, startled, sniffled and backed away from Harry.

Lupin gazed at Harry in confusion. 'Frank and Alice Longbottom,' he said. 'You know, Neville's parents. The same thing happened to them all those years ago.'

Something clunked into Harry's brain so hard, he almost stumbled.

'I have to get to Hogwarts,' he said suddenly.

'What?' said Ginny, Hermione and Lupin together.

'Please, Prof--Remus,' Harry begged. 'There's something I have to do...somebody I have to talk to!'

'Harry, we can't take you back to Hogwarts now,' said Lupin. 'We're needed here. Tonks is on security detail and I...I have to be available for Molly and Arthur--'

'So make me a Portkey!' said Harry. 'Please!'

'Harry, what are you talking about?' Ginny asked.

'Or I'll Floo there!' said Harry, still focusing on Lupin.

'The Floo network's closed,' said Tonks.

'Remus, I have to get back...' Harry begged, but the look on Lupin's face, while sympathetic, was unwavering, and suddenly, Harry happened upon another idea.

'I've got to find Augustus Pye,' he said, and before anyone could stop him, he yanked open the door of the janitor's closet and dashed into the corridor.

He vaguely heard the shouts of the others behind him, and then their footsteps as they chased him, but Harry was too fast for them, and too agile; he leapt easily out of the way of the crowds of people moving back and forth through the hospital and shoved his way to the front desk. Several people waiting in line--a wizard whose nose hair had grown abnormally long and was attempting to strangle him; a girl whose arms were as long as a gorilla's; and a witch whose eyes seemed to be permanently crossed--protested angrily.

'Where's Augustus Pye?' Harry bellowed at the blonde witch sitting at the desk.

'Excuse me, sir,' said the witch irritably. 'There's a line, in case you didn't--'

Harry shoved his fringe up and revealed his scar, and with his right hand he yanked out his wand and pointed it right at the witch's face. The crowd gasped in horror and awe, and several people gawped at the lightning bolt on his forehead.

'Look, lady, I've faced down Lord Voldemort half a dozen times and if you think I'm gonna take any crap from you, you're wrong. Now tell me where Augustus Pye is or I'll be sending you to the Spell Damage ward!'

The witch blanched and backed up in her seat.

'Harry!' Lupin shouted, as he pushed his way into the lobby. Harry ignored him as the witch spoke.

'D-downstairs,' she stammered. 'Basement level, in the research laboratory. Take a left off the lift.'

'Thank you,' said Harry, and made a dash for the lift, not even looking back at Lupin and the others, who were still calling out to him.

Harry stepped off the old lift and took a left into a dimly lit, gloomy corridor. Straight ahead he saw double-doors that read _Magical Medical Research Area_, and without hesitation, he marched right up to the doors and shoved them.

Except they didn't open. He tried again, and was about to use his wand on the doors when suddenly a man's voice boomed over him.

'Name and employee number, please,' the voice said.

Harry groaned. In his haste he hadn't counted on having to pass through any sort of security. He felt rather like an idiot for not having thought of this.

But he cleared his throat anyway.

'Harry Potter,' he said. 'I'm not an employee, I'm a visitor.'

'All visitors must report to the front desk for a visitor badge,' said the voice.

'I just came from there!' Harry shouted. 'I need to see Augustus Pye right away.'

'All visitors must report to the front desk for a visitor badge,' said the voice again. Harry felt like punching a hole in the wall.

'Look, I'll wait out here, okay?' he begged. 'Can you please just find Augustus Pye for me? Augustus Pye! He's a Healer, and I need to speak with him! It's urgent!'

'All visitors must report to the front desk for a visitor badge.'

'DAMMIT!'

This time Harry raised his fist and really was about to punch the wall when a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

'Er...you're looking for Augustus Pye?'

Harry whirled round, wand in hand, and found himself face-to-face with a young, scrawny wizard with mousy brown hair and a prominent Adam's apple. Harry was surprised to see him dressed in gray Muggle hospital scrubs.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'D'you know where he is?'

'I'm Augustus Pye,' said the wizard. 'You...would you mind lowering your wand?'

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'I need to speak with you. It's really important. I'm Harry Potter, by the way.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Augustus. He looked nervous, but very intrigued as well. 'What do you need to talk about?'

'It's about George Weasley,' said Harry. 'And Neville Longbottom.'

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Augustus Pye made their way back to the lobby to find a very irritated looking group: Lupin, Tonks, Ginny and Hermione all regarded Harry with indignation.

'Dammit, Harry,' said Tonks angrily. 'You were told specifically not to wander off. This is a very sensitive security situation and I can't be running about a bloody hospital chasing you down.'

'Please, ma'am,' said Augustus quickly. 'Don't be angry. Harry's been with me, he was perfectly safe. I'm Augustus Pye. I'm glad he found me, actually. I think I can help.'

'Help with what?' said Ginny, staring daggers at Harry. Without her saying a word, Harry knew she was furious with him for running off like he had, leaving her worried and upset.

'He told me all about your brother George,' said Augustus. 'I think...I might be able to help him. But I have to speak with your mum and dad first. And it might be a good idea if Harry got back to the school and talked to Neville Longbottom.'

* * *

Harry stumbled into the common room ten minutes later and dashed up the stairs, bellowing Neville's name.

He burst into the seventh year boys' dormitory in time to see Neville pull back his bed curtains and climb off his bed, quite sheepishly, with Luna Lovegood. The disheveled state of their appearance told Harry all he needed to know, and he filed that away under the various memories he'd rather not have.

'Hello, Harry,' said Luna, smiling her dreamy smile. 'You look awfully agitated.'

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort and focused on Neville.

'You have to come with me,' he said. 'Right now, to St. Mungo's.'

'Er...what?' said Neville. He looked utterly lost. 'I don't understand.'

'They found Fred and George,' Harry said breathlessly.

'No kidding, really?' said Neville. 'So...what do you need me for?'

'I talked to Augustus Pye. You have to come with me. I've got McGonagall's permission.'

Neville's eyes widened in understanding. 'Let me just grab my notes,' he said, and he leapt from his bed and yanked open his trunk, pulling out a leather valise. He stood up and faced Harry.

'Let's go,' he said. He paused long enough to give Luna a quick peck on the lips, and hurried out of the dormitory ahead of Harry, straightening his clothes as he went. Harry nodded quickly to Luna.

'Er...'bye, Luna,' he said awkwardly. She seemed to be taking this all in stride, which told Harry that Neville must have told her about what he'd been doing.

'Be careful,' Luna called after them, as they hurtled down the stairs.

* * *

Harry stood outside the Spell Damage wing, his arm round Ginny, who'd stopped crying and was now worrying her hands.

Hermione was nearby, standing next to Percy, who leaned heavily on his cane. Mr. Weasley paced back and forth, as Charlie kept a firm arm around his mother's shoulder. She, too, was no longer crying, but her eyes were puffy and her nose red. Charlie, Harry realized, hadn't gone back to Romania. Harry vaguely wondered whether Charlie had gotten a Ministry job to be close to home.

_They don't have a home anymore, remember? The Burrow was blown up._

Bill was there as well, looking tired, but his leg had fully healed. Fleur wasn't with him; she was still in the maternity ward, being monitored.

Harry ached for all of the Weasleys, to have gone through this much.

_And they don't even know the whole story on Ron yet..._

_And what if Neville's potion stuff doesn't work on George?_

_And Fred...he's going to lose an arm..._

Harry had been inside the Spell Damage wing long enough to get a look at George, and the sight of him made Harry's stomach churn.

George's face was gaunt and bruised; his eyes were open, but unseeing. His red hair was streaked everywhere with white, his skin was ashen, his lips were chapped. He had been sedated with some kind of potion and now lay on his side, but he was curled in the fetal position, his arms drawn up over his chest and his knees just below. But for the rise and fall of his shoulders and chest as he breathed, he was deathly still, and in the position he held himself, it was as if he were still under Cruciatus, as if the moment had been frozen in time.

Harry looked away after only a few seconds, and barely heard the droning voice of the medi-wizard as he gave his prognosis.

After that they had been shooed from the room, and the medi-wizard, a healer called Smethwyck, and Augustus and Neville were in there, in the words of Smethwyck, 'consulting.'

'And Ron...found them,' Mrs. Weasley whispered, as they took up places in the corridor to wait. And wait.

Nobody said anything as the waiting dragged on, and no more tears were shed; it was as if the whole family had cried themselves out. Tonks and Lupin had been called back to the scene where Fred and George had been dumped. The corridor contained only Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys, and the occasional passing healer.

At last, the doors to the Spell Damage wing mercifully opened and Smethwyck, Augustus and Neville all came out.

Everyone who was seated stood up, and they all started expectantly at the two healers and Neville.

'First, let me just say that I was not aware of Mr. Pye's...extracurricular research, nor was I aware that he was conducting said research with a Hogwarts' student,' said Healer Smethwyck gravely. 'Under normal circumstances Mr. Pye would have been suspended for allowing an unlicensed student access to certain substances that are not legally available to the general public. Under normal circumstances I would have contacted the appropriate authorities and pressed charges against Mr. Pye for using said substances without written permission from the hospital, and for encouraging their use by an unlicensed student.'

A collective gasp went up, as Smethwyck continued. 'Under normal circumstances, I would have contacted Hogwarts School and informed the Headmistress that a student had been playing about with certain illegal substances and conducting research and testing unauthorized by St. Mungo's or the Ministry of Magic and would have recommended his expulsion.'

'But--' Harry began.

'But,' said Healer Smethwyck, letting out a heavy sigh, 'these are not normal circumstances, or normal times. Mr. Pye and Mr. Longbottom have shown me the results of their research, and it is indeed very hopeful. In my professional opinion, I believe Mr. Weasley would benefit from a course of therapy with their potion.'

A collective sigh of relief filled the corridor.

'Arthur, I'll need your consent, and Molly's, to begin the treatment,' said Smethwyck.

'Of course,' said Mrs. Weasley at once. 'Of course you have our consent.'

'Yes, please,' said Mr. Weasley. 'Whatever you can do...'

'Very well,' said Smethwyck. 'I'll have Augustus draw up the forms for you to sign. Let's have at least one thing done properly and by the book.'

He glared, somewhat unconvincingly, at Augustus and Neville, both of whom flushed.

'As of today, Augustus, you're suspended without pay for two weeks,' said Smethwyck.

'Sir, you can't do that!' Harry protested. 'It's my fault--'

'That really isn't necessary,' said Mr. Weasley.

'It's okay,' said Augustus quickly. 'It's fine. Mr. Smethwyck's right. I did sort of break a lot of rules and...well, I s'pose I'm getting off easy.'

Healer Smethwyck nodded at Augustus and fixed his eyes on Neville.

'I suppose there's no real point in contacting Professor McGonagall,' said Smethwyck, 'given that you are here.'

'No, sir,' said Neville.

'She tells me you're interested in applying for the Healer training program,' said Smethwyck. 'Naturally I must take into consideration your law breaking when considering your application.'

'Yes, sir,' said Neville, looking down at his shoes.

'You two will come with me,' said Smethwyck. 'I'll need to consult with you on a treatment schedule. I'll arrange transportation for you, Mr. Longbottom, back to Hogwarts as soon as we're finished.'

Neville looked at Harry with sad eyes, and Harry bit his lip.

'I'm sorry,' he mouthed, feeling awful. In his rush to help George, he hadn't stopped to consider that enlisting Augustus and Neville would bring them so much trouble.

_Neville might not get into the Healer training program because of me!_

Neville shrugged and followed Smethwyck and Augustus down the corridor and out of sight.

'I really mucked things up for them,' Harry mumbled.

'No, you didn't,' said Mr. Weasley, and he looked at Harry with a film of tears on his eyes. 'Thank you for trying to help George.'

Harry nodded.

'Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?' said a pleasant female voice. They all turned to see another Healer, a handsome witch of around fifty years of age, smiling at them.

'Yes?' said Mr. Weasley apprehensively, as Mrs. Weasley clutched his arm.

'I'm Healer Dobbs. I have some news,' she said, 'about your son Fred.'

'What is it?'

'We were able to halt the spread of the gangrene,' said Dobbs. 'And we didn't have to amputate the arm after all.'

There was another collective sigh of relief, tempered by the look on the Healer's face.

'But...' said Bill.

'There's extensive nerve damage to the arm, and it's permanent,' said Dobbs. 'His wrist was also shattered; we were able to regrow the bones but it appears some sort of hex was applied that prevented them from growing back altogether properly. The arm will heal, but at best he'll have about twenty percent mobility and use from here on out.'

Mr. Weasley swallowed; Harry held onto Ginny's hand as her father nodded.

'Well, that's...I suppose it could be a lot worse,' he said, and he pursed his lips.

'I should tell you,' said Dobbs, 'that the...mental and emotional trauma your son suffered will be acute upon waking. We've kept him sedated for the time being and will do so for the next forty-eight hours, while we monitor his condition. But you should consider therapeutic counseling for him once he's released from the hospital.'

'Thank you,' said Mr. Weasley. Healer Dobbs nodded and left the corridor.

Mr. Weasley let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

'Well...this has been quite a week,' he said.

'They're going to be okay,' said Mrs. Weasley, her lower lip trembling. 'I know they're going to be okay.'

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Ginny returned to Hogwarts not long after that. It was late in the afternoon by now, and Harry was starving, light-headed, and he had a horrible headache, so it was with no small amount of relief that upon entering the common room, he found that not only was it empty--the warm spring-like weather had enticed most everyone outdoors--but that a plate of sandwiches, a huge bowl of crisps, and a pitcher of iced pumpkin juice were spread out on the common room table.

Hermione picked up a sandwich but ate fitfully; she was very agitated by now. The first thing they'd done since getting back from hospital was to try and see Ron again, but again, Madam Pomfrey had turned them away, without so much as a single word about Ron's condition.

'Hermione, sit down,' Ginny urged, 'or you won't digest your food properly.'

Hermione glared at Ginny for a moment, and then flopped into an armchair and took a petulant bite of her sandwich.

'We'll get to see him soon,' said Harry bracingly. 'I'm sure Ron's fine. He's too tough and too stubborn not to be.'

'He'd better be or I'll...' Hermione's voice trailed off and she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and took a swig.

There was a sound over by the portrait hole, and the three of them turned to see Neville enter. His eyes met theirs and he flushed. Harry threw down his sandwich and leapt up from the sofa.

'Neville, mate, I'm so sorry I got you in trouble, I didn't even think--'

Neville held up his hands. 'It's okay, Harry,' he said. 'I mean, I'm in trouble. I'm definitely in trouble. The Ministry's going to cite me with a misdemeanor for the unauthorized handling of class whatever non-tradable substances or something.'

'Shite,' said Harry.

'Hey, it's fine,' said Neville. 'It had to come out sometime, anyway. We knew what we were getting into, Harry. I talked to McGonagall just now; she says she'll still vouch for me when I have to do my interviews for the program. Of course, now my gran knows. I reckon I'll be getting a Howler anytime.'

'Oh, Neville,' said Ginny, shaking her head.

'I'm used to it,' said Neville, shrugging. 'In fact I'd be worried if my gran didn't bellow at me.'

They all chuckled, but Harry still felt guilty.

'Listen, Neville, I owe you one,' he said.

'Okay,' said Neville, grinning. 'Mind if I take your Firebolt out for a spin? I'm not much of a flyer, but--'

'It's yours, whenever you want it,' said Harry, marveling that Neville was risking his very career because of Harry, and would only ask for a ride on a broomstick in return.

Ginny, meanwhile, got up from the sofa and gave Neville a tight hug.

'Thank you so much,' she said.

'Oh, well,' said Neville, hugging her back awkwardly and blushing. 'You're welcome.'

His eyes met Harry's, and Harry grinned at him.

* * *

The day wore on with no word from Madam Pomfrey; Harry determined that the only thing to do was to get outside and enjoy the fresh air and pleasant weather. Neville did indeed take Harry's Firebolt for a fly, but he flew so poorly that he nearly unseated himself twice, and after a third attempt at a particularly sharp turn, he really did fall. Fortunately he was only a few feet from the ground, and all he suffered was the guffaws and pointing of some other students.

Neville thanked Harry for the loan of the Firebolt, declaring that that was quite enough flying for him for the next seven years, and went to join Luna Lovegood by the lake.

Harry, Ginny and Hermione sat beneath the beech tree. Hermione had brought her homework and was forcing herself to work through it, but Harry and Ginny played a leisurely game of chess, which Ginny won quite handily. They played two more games and Harry was just starting to relax more fully, to actually enjoy the day, in spite of everything that had happened, when Harry looked up to see Nott, Crabbe and Goyle sneering down at them.

'What?' said Harry belligerently. 'Your Junior Death Eater meeting let out early?'

'How're your brothers, Weasley?' Nott asked, fixing his eyes on Ginny and ignoring Harry.

'They're going to be just fine, Nott,' said Ginny defiantly, and she stood up.

Harry and Hermione got up slowly, already sliding their hands into their robes.

'I'll bet,' said Nott. 'Funny, I just realized something.'

'Oh?' said Ginny sweetly. 'And what's that? That you're a disgusting, slimy little worm?'

Harry bit back a chuckle. Nott, however, merely sneered.

'No,' he said, and he lowered his voice. 'I just realized that all the men in your family have nice mementoes of their visits from the Dark Lord, but you haven't. I guess that means you're next, Ginny.'

_No mementoes from Voldemort? If that bastard only knew!_

Harry yanked out his wand and was ready to curse Nott within an inch of his life, but he was interrupted.

'Back off, Nott,' said Blaise Zabini. He and Daphne Greengrass stood just behind them, their wands out and clutched in their hands, but at their sides.

Nott turned to Blaise. 'What, are you going to take points or something? From your own house?'

'Something like that,' said Blaise. 'And detention, too, just for the hell of it.'

'A week,' said Daphne, her hazel eyes glittering.

'Whatever,' said Nott, and he rolled his eyes as he gestured Crabbe and Goyle to follow him.

'Bastard,' Daphne muttered, as Nott stomped away. Blaise and Daphne watched them go, waiting until the three boys had entered the castle.

'You lot okay?' said Blaise at last, putting his wand away.

'Yeah,' said Harry, eyeing Blaise suspiciously.

'I suppose you want to know why we just defended you, is that it, Potter?' said Blaise.

'The thought did occur to me,' said Harry coolly.

'Sooner or later you're going to have to put away your anti-Slytherin bias,' said Blaise.

'We're here to help,' said Daphne simply.

'With what?' said Hermione.

'Let's take a walk, shall we?' suggested Blaise. 'Follow us.' He and Daphne started toward the castle without looking back.

Harry exchanged glances with Hermione and Ginny, but they all stood, gathered their things, and started after Blaise and Daphne.

* * *

They wound up in the greenhouses.

'Safest place,' said Blaise. 'Nobody comes in here on weekends, and it's less suspicious than us inviting you to the Slytherin common room.'

'Cut to the chase,' said Harry, pulling off his outer robes. It was stifling in the greenhouses. 'How do you intend to help us, and with what?'

'We've been keeping an eye on Nott ever since just before Christmas,' said Blaise. 'Granger asked us about Malfoy, but it was Nott she should have been asking about instead.'

'What about Nott?' Harry pressed.

'He's up to something,' said Blaise.

'You don't say?' said Harry sarcastically.

'No offense, Blaise,' said Ginny, trying to sound diplomatic, 'but...we know and we have a pretty good idea of what he's up to.'

Blaise glanced at Daphne, and then at Ginny, and then Harry.

'Do you?' he said, sounding both impressed and grudging at the same time.

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'You know he's sending information to Vol-Voldemort,' said Daphne.

'Yep,' said Harry.

'And that Goyle's acting as a messenger as well?' said Blaise.

'Yeah, knew that, too,' said Harry.

Daphne and Blaise exchanged looks.

'Is that all?' said Harry. 'Because if you don't mind...'

'Did you know that Goyle's been sneaking out of the castle?' said Blaise, fixing his gaze on Harry.

This information was, indeed, news to them all.

'Bullshit,' said Harry.

'It's true,' said Daphne. 'Blaise and I were on prefect duty one night and we saw Goyle skulking about the corridors. We decided to follow him.'

'Goyle knows how to skulk?' said Ginny.

'The dumb-as-a-troll thing looks to be an act,' said Blaise. 'At least, that's what Daphne and I think. By the way Goyle was moving about, it looked like he'd done this several times before. Well, we thought Goyle was dumb as rocks, too. We figured he'd trip over his own feet or accidentally hex himself. But he was sneaking about like some Auror on a covert mission, very stealthy and all. That piqued our interest.'

'Where did Goyle go?' said Hermione, any trace of hostility now gone.

'We're not sure,' said Daphne. 'What I mean is, it's a part of a castle that looks like nobody really uses anymore.'

'It's up on the fourth floor, in the far west wing,' said Blaise. 'There aren't any offices or classrooms up there, so far as we can tell.'

Harry's eyes narrowed. Something about this sounded vaguely familiar.

'Go on,' he said.

'Well, we had a hell of a time following him, as you can imagine,' said Blaise. 'He kept quiet but he was really nervous, kept checking over his shoulder and all. When he finally stopped we didn't know what the hell he was doing.'

'Where'd he stop?' Harry asked.

_Fourth floor...fourth floor...what's on the fourth floor? _

'In front of this huge old mirror,' said Daphne.

Harry's stomach did a flip.

'A mirror?' he repeated.

_Of course!_

'Yeah,' said Blaise. 'Just when we started to wonder if Goyle was admiring his reflection, he taps the mirror and it moves aside, and next thing you know, he goes in behind it and the mirror swung back.'

'We figured it was a secret passage,' said Daphne. 'We waited for a few minutes but Goyle didn't come back out, so we went over to the mirror and moved it out of the way.'

'Lo and behold,' said Blaise.

'Wait,' said Harry, 'isn't that passage caved in?'

'You know about that passage?' said Blaise.

Harry flushed.

'Never mind,' he said. 'So...the passage was there and you went in?'

'There was a passage,' said Daphne, 'and it was definitely not caved in.'

'But we didn't follow Goyle,' said Blaise. 'We couldn't.'

'Why not?'

'The passage is sealed,' said Daphne. 'An optical illusion. You go in about six feet and hit some kind of magical barrier. Blaise and I tried to get it undone but we couldn't.'

'How long d'you reckon Goyle's been sneaking around?' Harry asked.

'Not sure,' said Blaise. 'We only found that passage about a month ago.'

'A month?' Harry hissed. 'You knew about this for a month and you didn't say anything?'

'We didn't think anything of it at the time,' said Daphne. 'Honest. We figured Goyle was just, I dunno, sneaking out for a lark or something.'

'You know he's one of them,' Harry retorted. 'What else would he be sneaking out of the castle for?'

'This is Goyle we're talking about, Potter,' said Blaise. 'I mean, come on. We admit, we thought it was a bit weird at the time, but we just figured, maybe Goyle had a girl in the village and he was sneaking out for a bit of how's your father.'

'Are you serious?' said Harry incredulously.

'Harry, you have to admit, when the choices are Goyle being a criminal mastermind and Goyle going off grounds to shag some tart in the Hog's Head, option two is a bit more realistic,' said Ginny.

Harry started to protest, but then he remembered that he, Ginny and Hermione had all dismissed out of hand Ron's suggestion that there might be more to Gregory Goyle, that he might be the third party. Blaise and Daphne's revelation just confirmed it. Ron was right about Goyle after all.

Harry looked at Ginny and Hermione, and they both gave him looks of understanding. Then he turned back to Blaise and Daphne, and took a deep breath, trying for a friendlier tone.

'So what did you two do next?'

'Well, we followed him a couple more times,' said Daphne. 'That first time, we dismissed it, but a few days later Blaise went into the boys' loo and heard Nott and Goyle whispering about something or other.'

'Did you hear what they said?' said Hermione eagerly.

'Not much,' said Blaise, shaking his head. 'Just a few words here and there. But they were speaking German.'

'German?' said Hermione.

'Yeah, that caught my attention,' said Blaise. 'My grandmother on my mother's side is German, so I know a bit of the language. But I only heard Goyle telling Nott to hurry up.'

'Hurry up with what?' said Harry.

'No idea,' said Blaise. 'I wasn't too keen on getting caught eavesdropping, so I left. But after that Daphne and I started to notice Nott and Goyle talking more frequently.'

'They'd get in a huddle sometimes and sort of hiss at each other,' said Daphne. 'Goyle always looked sort of nervous.'

'We figured if Goyle was getting shagged he wouldn't be so uptight,' said Blaise dryly. 'So we followed him again, last week, when we were on patrols.'

'He snuck out,' said Daphne. 'And we tried to follow him but we ran into the barrier in the passage again.'

'We decided to wait for Goyle to come back,' said Blaise. 'Two hours later he did, and he didn't look so good.'

'He was shaking a bit, and sweating,' said Daphne. 'He almost like he'd been cursed or something.'

'Last week?' said Harry. 'You said you followed him last week?'

'Yeah, why?'

Harry looked at Hermione and Ginny, both of whom had caught on.

It was the same week that Ron had found Nott and Goyle whispering in the alcove; it might have even been the very same night.

'What?' said Daphne.

'Nothing,' said Harry quickly. He wasn't ready to discuss with two Slytherins--even two who were trying to help them--his discussions with Hermione, Ginny and Ron.

'I just thought of something,' said Hermione. 'If you and Blaise can't get through that barrier, but Goyle can, that means either he set up the barrier himself, or someone else knew about that passage and did it for him.'

'Even if we accept that Goyle isn't a complete idiot,' said Blaise, 'I can't picture him setting up a bunch of wards that powerful.'

'Could Nott do it?' Ginny suggested.

'Possibly,' said Daphne. 'Probably. Nott's very smart.'

'Yeah,' said Blaise. 'He could have done it.'

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence, and then Blaise cleared his throat and spoke again.

'Anyway, we thought you should know,' he said. 'We just wanted to help.'

'Why?' said Harry. 'I mean, why now? You had to know that Nott was with them all along, didn't you?'

'Yeah, we figured,' said Blaise. 'But back then wasn't the time. Now's the time.'

Harry shook his head. Typical Slytherins. Even if their information was undoubtedly useful, it was clear they had decided to come forward only now because there was some perceived benefit in it for them.

'Why is now the time?' Ginny asked.

'We heard about what they did to your family,' said Daphne. 'It got us thinking.'

'About what?' said Harry.

'About our own families,' said Daphne. 'My brother died last year, fighting to protect me. And all year I've been running scared because I thought the rest of my family would get hurt.'

Daphne's eyes filmed with tears and she looked at Ginny. 'Then I heard about your brothers, and I knew I couldn't hide anymore. And Blaise...'

'They killed my sister,' said Blaise. 'She was pregnant at the time. Living in London with her Muggle husband. She worked at Gringott's when it was attacked last year.'

'Blaise and I thought...if we just stayed neutral we'd be safe,' said Daphne. 'And then they got Pansy and we knew it was a joke.'

'We would have come to you sooner but we didn't want to play our hand too early,' said Blaise. 'We couldn't afford to tip off Nott. If he'd seen us talking to you sooner, we might not have found out anything.'

Harry realized he was gawping at them both. He didn't want to believe them. His own prejudices against Slytherin House were slamming up against what they were telling him, not just with their words but with their eyes.

He believed them. And he knew why they had done things the way they had. He had to admit, he was rather impressed.

'We believe you,' said Ginny.

'We'll continue to keep an eye on Nott,' said Blaise. 'Better us than you, we have easier access.'

'Not quite,' said Harry, amazed at himself that he was even considering what he was going to do. 'Nott knows you're hostile to him now. He'll monitor himself a lot more closely around you.'

'You have a better idea?' said Blaise.

'Yeah, I do,' said Harry. 'Come by Gryffindor tomorrow and I'll show you what I'm talking about.'

'Harry...' Ginny whispered, and she grabbed his arm. He gave her a look. It was mad, he knew, but they had to know what it was Nott and Goyle were up to. They had to know what Voldemort was looking for, and Nott and Goyle seemed to be the keys to that mystery.

'And why would we go to Gryffindor tower?' Blaise asked.

'I'll call a prefect meeting,' said Hermione, and Harry knew she understood what he was referring to. 'That way you'll have an excuse to be there and you can linger a bit afterwards.'

Blaise and Daphne exchanged looks, and then nodded.

'Right, then,' said Blaise. 'We'd best be off, we can't afford to be seen getting too cozy with you.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed.

'We'll see you, Harry,' said Daphne, and she gave him a kind of wistful smile as she saw Harry and Ginny hold hands. She then followed Blaise out of the greenhouses, leaving Harry, Ginny and Hermione in a moment of stunned silence.

'Wow,' said Ginny. 'Hell of a week, indeed.'

'Do you trust them?' said Hermione.

'I think we have to,' said Harry. 'They're the only ones who can get close enough to Nott and Goyle.'

'But Harry, your Invisibility Cloak?' said Hermione. 'Are you sure?'

'No,' said Harry. 'But it's too late to try Polyjuice.'

'Well,' said Hermione, 'just give it to me before you hand it over. I'll...doctor it up a bit.'

Harry and Ginny looked at each other in unspoken understanding. Harry had a feeling that if Blaise or Daphne abused the cloak, the suffering they'd endure would make Marietta Edgecombe's acne seem like a mild itch.

'Let's go, it's sweltering in here,' said Harry, and the three of them left the greenhouses. Harry realized it was dinner time, so the three of them started toward the Great Hall, but halfway there, they were intercepted by Professor McGonagall.

'I've been looking for you everywhere,' she said, looking harried. 'Come with me. Mr. Weasley's awake.'

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Ginny burst into the hospital wing, with McGonagall following behind them, a bit breathlessly; Madam Pomfrey seemed to materialize out of nowhere to stand firmly in front of them.

'You may see him,' she said, her voice stern but soft, 'but not before I tell you how he is, and lay down a few simple rules.'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Harry, as Hermione and Ginny both nodded.

'He's a bit weak,' said Madam Pomfrey, 'so don't go flinging yourself on him.' She arched her brows at Hermione, who blushed. 'He's fine. He's exhausted, of course, and a bit groggy from his medicines, but there was no mental damage. He'll need a full week of rest from his Seer activities, and he'll be here through the weekend but if all goes well he'll be back in lessons on Monday morning.'

'Do my parents know?'

'I've already told them,' said McGonagall. 'They'll come tomorrow. Poppy, if you don't need me...'

'No, Minerva, everything's fine, you go on,' said Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall swept out of the hospital wing, and Harry, resisting the urge to run around the corner where Ron's bed was.

Pomfrey fixed her eyes on Harry and the girls.

'You have fifteen minutes,' she said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

She let them pass; the three of them walked as quickly and as calmly as they could without actually running, and turned past a pulled bed curtain, to find Ron sitting up in bed, looking exhausted and weak. He also looked rather drunk, but Harry guessed this was due to the medication.

'Hey,' he said, grinning his familiar, lopsided grin.

'Hey,' said Harry, feeling a wave of relief so palpable it nearly knocked him over.

_He's going to be okay._

'Hi, shish,' said Ron, his voice slurred.

'Hey, Ron,' said Ginny, her eyes filling.

'Ron,' Hermione whimpered, and she walked over to him, her whole body trembling as she restrained from throwing herself at him. Instead she sat down next to him on his bed. She hugged him tentatively, and then he hugged her back, his arms wrapping about her clumsily. They held each other for several seconds before she pulled back.

'Hi, love,' he said, smiling dreamily at her. 'You're a...shore for sight...eyes I mean...eyes for shore...never mind.'

The four of them laughed, and Harry and Ginny pulled up chairs on either side of Ron's bed.

'How are you feeling, mate?' said Harry.

'Okay,' said Ron, smiling in a rather silly sort of way. 'Madam Pomfrey, she gave me shomething...good.'

'You scared us, Ron,' said Ginny. 'You shouldn't have worked yourself so hard.'

Ron's face slackened and he turned serious, or at least as serious as he could be, given his intoxicated state.

'Had to, Gin,' he said, and then for a moment, his blue eyes cleared and he looked fearful. 'Are they okay?'

'They're going to be fine,' said Ginny, in a voice that told Harry and Hermione all they needed to know.

_We can't tell him about what happened to George, not until he's fully recovered_.

'You saved them, Ron,' said Hermione, taking his hand. 'You did it.'

'Go me,' said Ron, and he giggled. He actually giggled. Harry laughed again, and soon they were all laughing once more. It went on for a good minute, and then Ron stopped suddenly. He looked very, very tired.

'We should let you sleep,' said Harry.

'Sleepy,' said Ron.

'We'll be back tomorrow,' said Hermione, and she kissed Ron on the forehead; he closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into her lips.

'G'night, Ron,' she said, and Ginny and Harry got up and bade Ron good night as well. He slumped his tall form back onto his pillows, but he clung to Hermione's hand for a moment and brought it to his lips, brushing them across her knuckles. Hermione sniffed as he let go of her hand.

'G'night,' he mumbled, his eyes drooping. He looked frail and very young in that moment, despite his otherwise haggard appearance. Harry felt a lump in his throat to see traces of the eleven year old boy in the man who now looked up at them with sleepy blue eyes.

'Ron,' said Harry.

'Wha', Harry?' said Ron.

'Take better care of yourself,' said Harry, his voice breaking slightly. 'I mean it.'

Ron's eyes opened more fully, and for another brief moment, he looked almost lucid.

'I promise,' he said. He smiled at all of them, and closed his eyes. Hermione sniffed again and wiped her face, and for a moment they all watched Ron sleep, as if afraid to leave him. It wasn't until his breathing evened out and his face slacked entirely that they pulled away, Hermione placing another soft kiss on his forehead.

Harry pulled Hermione and Ginny to him as they walked slowly from Ron's bedside. They were nearly around the corner when they heard Ron make a noise.

They turned and saw that Ron had opened his drooping blue eyes.

'Ron, go to sleep,' Hermione whispered.

'Tell Fred and George,' Ron mumbled, his eyes already closing, his body and voice surrendering to sleep, '...sorry...forgot to get them...birthday present...'

His eyes slid shut a second time, and he slept. Harry, Hermione and Ginny went back to Ron's bedside and sat in their previously abandoned chairs.

Madam Pomfrey did not end up kicking them out of the hospital wing that night.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Buckbeaky for continuing to beta, and to lina as well**.


	43. Chaptery Forty Three: Pieces of a Puzzle

_Chapter Forty-Three: Pieces of a Puzzle_

Ron awoke several times on Sunday morning.

The first time was just at dawn, as the sky was turning orange with the rising sun. Ron opened his eyes long enough to note this, and fell back into a heavy, dreamless sleep. He woke again a half hour later, when he felt Madam Pomfrey leaning over him and felt her cool, dry fingers lift his dead-weight wrist and check his pulse. He saw her smile at him and for a moment he was sure her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but sleep dragged him down again. The third time he woke it was with sunlight in his eyes. It seemed rather silly to keep them open in such a circumstance, so he closed them yet again, and slept some more.

It was the fourth time that Ron opened his eyes that he felt the inexorable pull of wakefulness.

He also felt the weight of other pairs of eyes on him. He blinked, and looked up to see a blurry pair of brown eyes, surrounded by a halo of mad, bushy brown hair.

''Mione...' he heard himself whisper. The effort to speak hurt. His throat was dry as a desert, rough as cut glass. And yet as Hermione's face came into focus, Ron found he didn't care. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful sight he could ever wake up to.

'Hi,' Hermione whispered, and she leaned forward and kissed his lips. He was too weak to even kiss back, but he leaned into the kiss, as much as he could, all the same. Then he felt her hand brushing through his fringe. The soothing touch of her fingers almost sent him spiraling back into sleep, but then he looked at her again and he knew he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to miss looking at her.

'How do you feel?' she asked softly.

'Okay,' he said. It wasn't a total lie. The headache he'd had when he had woken up last night was gone, owing, no doubt, to Madam Pomfrey's potions. But he couldn't remember the last time he felt this tired.

'Hey,' said another, familiar voice. Ron turned his head slowly--it seemed to weigh a ton--and his eyes focused now on Harry, who was grinning at him.

'Hey,' Ron croaked back, and then he saw Ginny move next to Harry. She was smiling tearfully at him.

'Hey, baby sister,' Ron said, forcing his tired face into a smile at her, Harry and Hermione.

'Hey, big brother,' said Ginny, wiping a tear from her cheek. 'We were wondering if you'd ever come out of your coma. It's past ten.'

Ron blinked again and saw that all three of them looked exhausted.

'Were you here all night?' he asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Pomfrey couldn't get rid of us.'

Ron swallowed, and his heart felt suddenly very full. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Thanks,' he said, and then he realized he was desperately thirsty. 'Water...'

Hermione stood up and fetched the pitcher on the bedside table; she poured him a glass as he struggled to sit up.

'Easy, mate,' said Harry.

'Tired of lying down,' said Ron, although the effort to sit up was harder than he thought. His limbs felt like dead-weight at first. But as he forced himself into a halfway-sitting position, he felt prickling tingles start in his arms and legs as the circulation returned.

He felt Hermione place the glass of water at his lips; he sipped gingerly, and after a few moments he felt his hand go up and wrap around hers and the glass itself. The water ached on his throat, but it was good. It was a few minutes before he drained the glass, and nobody said a word.

Ron sat back against the headboard and let out a breath. He was tired, but he could already feel his strength returning. And clarity, that was returning as well.

'Shit,' he said suddenly. 'Fred and George...'

'They're okay,' said Ginny, but something in her posture told Ron she wasn't being totally forthcoming.

'But...' Ron prompted.

Ginny glanced at Harry and Hermione with a look of distress on her face.

'Do you think—' she began.

'Yeah,' said Harry, firmly.

'What are you talking about?' said Ron, feeling panic start to hammer in his chest. 'What's wrong with Fred and George?'

Hermione and Ginny both seemed to be at a loss for words; it was Harry who spoke.

'They're alive,' he said. 'Fred...he was all cut up when they found him.'

Ron shuddered. 'I...I remember seeing that. They cut him up with spells.'

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand as Harry continued.

'Fred got this infection from the cuts,' said Harry. 'Well, one cut, in his arm. It was gangrene. They thought they might have to amputate his arm but...they stopped the infection in time. But his arm...it's really messed up. He won't really be able to use it anymore.'

Ron swallowed. 'Okay,' he said finally.

_That's not so bad. Fred's alive and he's okay. Percy's got that bad leg and he works around it; Fred can learn the same thing._

'What about George?' Ron asked

Here, Harry faltered slightly.

'George...' he said. 'Well...he was tortured pretty badly.'

Ron closed his eyes as his brain was assaulted with images of George, writhing on a stone floor, sobbing in pain.

'I saw that, too,' Ron whispered, as Hermione put her arm round his shoulders. 'Right before...I found out where they were.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'They...they tortured him a long time. Until...' His voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands.

'Until what?' said Ron, and then another image popped behind his eyes. George, lying on his side in a hospital bed, his hair streaked with white, staring vacantly at a wall.

'Jesus,' Ron whispered, and he felt his eyes begin to burn. 'They...they made him like Neville's parents, didn't they?'

Nobody seemed to be able to speak; instead, Harry, Ginny and Hermione all nodded. Ginny was crying silently, leaning against Harry for support.

Ron swallowed a second lump in his throat, and the tears that threatened became as hot as the anger that boiled up in his blood.

'Those fucking bastards,' he whispered. 'Lucius Malfoy...if I ever find him...I swear I'll--'

'Ron, don't,' Hermione begged, and she clutched him tightly. 'Don't get yourself worked up, please--'

'George is my brother and they've...they've messed up his mind, Hermione!' Ron protested, his voice straining against the ache of his scratchy throat.

'Ron, listen,' Harry jumped in urgently. 'George is in a bad way but there's a chance he could get some help.'

Ron turned to Harry. 'What do you mean?'

Harry started to talk rather fast. 'There's this potion. Neville came up with it. Well, Neville and this healer at St. Mungo's. It's some kind of memory retrieval thing, or mind potion. Neville thinks it could help bring George back.'

Ron gaped at Harry. 'Neville made up a potion?'

_Melts-his-cauldron-in-Potions-class-once-a-week Neville made a potion that's going to stop George from being barmy?_

'Yes,' said Harry firmly. 'He's been working on it for months. He told me about it ages ago but I had to keep it a secret. He and this healer, Augustus Pye, were breaking all sorts of rules working on it. They've tested it a bunch of times and they both think it could work. And the head healer bloke, he thinks it could work, too.'

'Mum and Dad agreed to it, Ron,' said Ginny, wiping her eyes again. 'Since George can't...can't speak for himself, they had to sign these forms consenting to the treatments.'

'Ron, Neville came up with this thing on his own,' said Harry insistently. 'I know it sounds far-fetched but...look at his parents. He started out wanting to help them, only they've been...like they are for too long for the stuff to work on them. He kept working on it anyway, because he didn't want anyone else to go through what his parents went through. And he even got into trouble over it, that is, he and Augustus. Augustus got suspended for two weeks without payment and Neville...he applied to the Healer program and because he broke all these rules, that'll go on his application and he might not get into the program now.'

'It's true, they did get in trouble,' said Hermione. 'We saw it yesterday.'

Ron was speechless for about half a minute as he took this all in. He was sure he had a rather stupid expression on his face, but it all seemed incredible.

Neville, inventing a potion that could cure George? Could cure other people who'd suffered the way George had? It didn't seem remotely possible. And yet there was his sister, his best mate and his girlfriend all declaring that it was true.

'Neville got in trouble to help George?' Ron finally managed.

'Yeah,' said Harry glumly. 'Well, it's really because of me. I asked him to help. But he didn't hesitate. He came back to St. Mungo's with me and had this conference with the healers and everything.'

'Neville doesn't even know George all that well,' said Ron weakly.

'He did it because it was the right thing to do,' said Ginny. 'That's how he is, you know that.'

Ron swallowed again and reached for his water glass, which Hermione had refilled. He gulped the contents down in one, and set it on the table with a shaky hand.

'I know that,' he managed. 'Neville...fancy that.' He looked up at Harry and Ginny.

'Do you really think it could work?' Ron said.

'We don't know,' said Harry. 'But...it can't hurt to try, right?'

'When would they start...treatments?' Ron asked.

'Right away,' said Harry. 'Look, Ron, just...try to stay positive, okay? It's George. If anyone can come back from this, George can.'

Ron nodded. In truth, he didn't feel optimistic so much as blind-sided. Finding his brothers had so thoroughly taxed him that he hadn't even had time to consider what state they would be in when found; he'd managed to stay conscious long enough to wheeze out some details to McGonagall before everything went black.

Now, Fred was wearing a useless arm and George was...insane.

'Ron,' said Ginny, and she sat down next to him on his bed, 'they're alive. And...maybe I'm just lying to myself or being a hopeless optimist but...I think they're going to be okay. Fred and George.'

Ron looked at his sister and felt her take his hands; she kept her eyes on him as a wave of warmth filled his blood. He felt all her emotions: fear, exhaustion, love...but there was also hope.

'Okay, Gin,' he said, and he pulled her into a hug. It was hard to believe that this young woman was his sister, really. What had happened to the pig-tailed girl who used to look up to him for everything? Now he was the one leaning on her.

She pulled back and smiled at him. 'I love you, you know,' she said, smiling. 'I'm really glad you're okay.'

'Of course I'm okay,' said Ron, grinning at her. 'Had to wake up so I could take the mickey out of my favorite sister.'

'Ha, ha,' said Ginny.

'We're all glad you're okay,' said Harry, and suddenly he and Hermione were sitting on his bed as well; Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder, and then Ron felt Hermione snake her arms around his waist. He pulled her close and felt his strength return in full, and he knew it was because they were all there, surrounding him.

Just as Ron felt himself surrendering to this moment, his stomach gave a great rumble.

For a moment, nobody said a word, and then all of them were laughing.

'Hungry?' said Harry. 'Should I have Dobby bring up something from the kitchens?'

'You and that bottomless pit of a stomach,' said Hermione, ruffling Ron's hair affectionately.

'What?' said Ron. 'I haven't eaten since yesterday morning!'

* * *

Ron did eat a hearty breakfast, brought by Madam Pomfrey herself once she saw that Ron was awake. Much to his chagrin, she also shooed Harry, Hermione and Ginny out of the room; Pomfrey allowed him enough time to scarf down the multiple helpings of sausages and eggs and toast--he really was quite famished--and then set to examining him once again. Ron was quite pleased when she pronounced him fully cured, and accepted her admonishments never to overwork himself like that again with good humor.

His parents stopped by shortly afterward and Mrs. Weasley fussed over him, even as Mr. Weasley thanked him for finding Fred and George. It turned into a very emotional moment, with both his parents crying and Ron fighting tears. Not long after that, Madam Pomfrey waved his parents off as well, insisting Ron needed his rest.

Ron fell into a grateful afternoon nap and awoke two hours later, hungry again. Madam Pomfrey insisted on a second examination, in which he was made to stand up and walk about. He felt distinctly weak and a bit heavy-footed, but Pomfrey declared him cured enough to leave the hospital wing. She loaded his arms up with various strengthening and sleeping potions and ordered him to take every single one. In addition, she admonished him 'not to even think about getting into your meditation nonsense' for at least a full week. When Ron protested, Pomfrey shot back that this was 'straight from Professor Firenze.' At this, Ron knew he was defeated. He might try to go against Pomfrey's orders, but he had never been able to go behind Firenze's back. The centaur had a way of seeing through Ron.

He returned to his room early in the evening to find Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna all waiting for him; they had decorated the room with a few banners and the floor was laid out with all manner of Ron's favorite foods (Hermione enlarged the floor to accommodate all six of them). They ate a quiet but friendly dinner (Ron ate three helpings of everything) and chatted about distinctly mundane things. Nobody seemed to want to let reality intrude for the moment, and Ron was content to go along. Nobody brought up Neville's potion or George's treatment.

After a few hours of eating and socializing, Neville and Luna announced they would be leaving. Luna told Ron he should reconsider all the orange Cannons memorabilia as it clashed with his coloring.

'I'll keep that under advisement,' Ron said, grinning.

'Oh, and here are some back issues of _The Quibbler_ for you,' she said airily. 'It really hasn't been quite as good since Rita left, but I've been writing a bit to take up the slack.'

'Rita left, did she?' said Hermione. 'What a shame.'

'Yes, it was,' said Luna, very seriously. 'Her writing style was quite popular with readers. But she said she was tired of working for nothing. Well, happy reading, Ronald!'

'Thanks, Luna,' said Ron, still smiling at her.

_Nutter, that one.__ But a nice girl, all the same._

Then Ron pulled Neville aside.

'Look, Neville,' he said awkwardly, 'Harry told me...I just wanted to say...thanks. You didn't have to.'

'Yeah, I did,' said Neville.

'But you got in trouble,' said Ron.

'Not really,' said Neville. 'Gran didn't even send me a Howler. She said she was proud of me.'

'She should be,' said Ron sincerely.

Neville blushed crimson and mumbled something. Then he and Luna took their leave, with Neville telling Ron that the potion would take about a week to 'kick in'.

Ron closed the door behind them and turned back to Hermione and the others, all of whom were looking at him a bit nervously.

'What?' he asked.

'We have stuff to tell you,' said Harry. 'Stuff we learned yesterday.'

Ron stared at them for a moment before sitting down.

Only out of it for one day and I seem to have missed a lot.

'I'm listening,' he said.

Harry told Ron everything. How Goyle was sneaking out of the school. The newly cleared but jinxed secret passageway behind the mirror on the fourth floor. Goyle's strange behavior. That the language they'd been speaking was German. And that Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass had approached Harry and the others and had offered to help. Ron listened to all this intently and silently, until Harry brought up the fact that in order to help Blaise and Daphne more effectively spy on Nott and Goyle, Harry had given them his Invisibility Cloak.

'You gave them the cloak?' Ron spluttered. 'Are you mad?'

'Ron, we have to trust them,' said Hermione. 'They're on our side.'

'No,' said Ron. 'They're on Blaise and Daphne's side. Harry said it himself: they waited until now because they didn't want to show their hand too early.'

'That doesn't mean we shouldn't trust them,' said Hermione.

'Hermione's right,' said Harry. 'And anyway, we don't have much choice at this point. They're the only ones who can really get the inside track on Nott and Goyle and the cloak makes it a lot easier.'

'Told you I was right about Goyle,' said Ron, a bit smugly.

'Yes, yes, we know,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

'Tell me you didn't give them the Marauder's Map, too,' said Ron nervously.

'No,' said Harry. 'That stays with me. If I have to trust Blaise and Daphne fine, but I'll do it on my terms, you know?'

Ron let out a breath and nodded approvingly.

'All right,' said Hermione, pulling out a piece of parchment on which was a new, clean, and more succinct list, 'what do we know as of now? We know Goyle is sneaking out of the castle. We know Nott is trying to get something for Voldemort--a cling, which we still haven't determined what that is-- and Goyle is apparently going to deliver it. We know Goyle is using the formerly caved in secret passageway behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We know it's jinxed so that anyone other than Goyle who tries to use it can't get through. Blaise and Daphne don't think Goyle could have done that, but Nott's clever enough to have done it.'

'Hopefully Blaise and Daphne can find that out definitively,' said Ginny. 'Maybe they can figure out how to work it.'

'They can try, but I want a crack at it, too,' said Hermione firmly. 'There's no reason Ron and I can't happen to check on it while we're out on patrols. I changed the prefect patrolling schedules a bit at the meeting this morning.'

'There was a prefect meeting this morning?' Ron asked.

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'I needed a good pretext for getting Blaise and Daphne here. Anyway, Ron, you and I will be patrolling the fourth floor tomorrow night, if you're up for it.'

'Yeah,' said Ron at once, and then something occurred to him.

'Hey,' he said, 'what if Blaise and Daphne stole something of Goyle's, or Nott's? I could always use it to--'

'Ron, you're not supposed to meditate this week!' Hermione protested. 'You know that.'

'I'll ask Firenze to make an exception,' said Ron stubbornly. 'Hermione, I feel fine. I swear. And...and it's not like meditating on something like this would be as stressful. I mean, Fred and George are back and...well, they're not totally okay but they're alive, aren't they?'

'I don't know, Ron,' said Harry. 'You probably shouldn't risk it this soon.'

'How else am I supposed to be useful, then?' Ron retorted. 'Blaise and Daphne are doing their spy bit, Hermione's helping you with that potion, and you and Ginny are going to start Empath stuff this week so you can, I dunno, get your mind stronger. Where does that leave me? Sitting on my arse doing nothing.'

'You won't be doing nothing,' said Hermione. 'You've got school, Quidditch practice, visiting Fred and George...'

'That's all fine and good but it doesn't help Harry,' said Ron.

'Ron, if you keel over again, you won't be helping me, either,' said Harry. 'Please, just take a week off from being a Seer.'

'And do what?' Ron grumbled.

'Be my best mate,' said Harry.

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, but then his gaze fell on Harry, who was looking at him with concern, his face utterly serious. Ron let out a breath. He knew what Harry meant. It made Ron feel a bit...inadequate, that he couldn't contribute something practical, something _useful_, for a full week. But Harry had a point. Ron wouldn't be good for anything if he exhausted himself again.

'Okay,' he said at last. 'I'll be Seer-free for a week.'

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. 'Good,' she said.

'But,' said Ron at once, 'I want to know everything that goes on, okay? No keeping stuff from me just because you're worried. If I'm going to rest up like this I deserve to be kept informed, got it?'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, smirking.

'Piss off, Harry,' said Ron, but his mouth turned up at the corners.

'We promise, Ron,' said Ginny. 'Full disclosure.'

'Hermione?' said Ron, eyeing her closely.

'Full disclosure,' she agreed.

* * *

That night, Ron retired early; Hermione gave him a lovely kiss good-night, but demurred from staying in his room. In the end, Ron decided it was for best. After brushing his teeth and collapsing into bed, he barely had the strength to remember taking the Dreamless Sleep Draught Madam Pomfrey had given him.

Next day, Ron awoke feeling groggy and irritable. He automatically reached for his dream diary--he had only last week started on his fourth such journal--when he remembered he'd taken a sleeping potion the night before. He cursed Firenze for ordering him to take a week away from his Seer practice, and then cursed himself for overtaxing himself to begin with.

_If you hadn't done it, Fred and George could be dead right now._

_Yeah, they're alive, but Fred's got a dead arm and George is a nutter. _

Ron scowled and asked himself, for the hundredth time since he'd woken up, whether he could have tried harder, found them sooner.

A knock at his door broke his train of thought.

'Come in,' Ron called, pulling on a dressing gown and unlocking his door with a flick of his wand.

'Ah, good, you're up,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Get dressed, Mr. Weasley. You and your sister are to go to St. Mungo's this morning to see your brothers. You're excused from morning lessons. Be in Gryffindor tower in ten minutes.'

Ron thanked McGonagall and felt his stomach swoop with dread as she left the room. He didn't want to go visit his brothers in hospital. He felt horribly guilty to feel this way. Of course he should visit Fred and George--and yet the idea of seeing George, walking about in a daze the way Neville's mum had been, that time Ron had seen her back in fifth year, filled Ron with an icy sort of fear.

However, there was no choice. Ron pulled on some Muggle clothes and met McGonagall and Ginny in the common room; McGonagall arranged a Portkey for them. They landed in the hospital by nine in the morning, where they met Lupin and their parents.

It was both better and worse than Ron expected. Fred, at least, was awake and talking, and although his eyes were tired and a bit haunted, he was in surprisingly good humor, all things considered.

_Fred doesn't know about George yet, that's why,_ thought Ron, and indeed Ron and Ginny were under strict orders not to mention George's true condition. As far as Fred was concerned, George was in a kind of magically-induced coma that would take a bit of time to come out of. Ron was only too happy to go along with this deception.

But George was another story, and the story was dreadful. They were sent to the Closed Ward, and found George lying mutely on a bed, his eyes staring, unblinking and glassy, up at the ceiling. Healer Smethwyck was standing over George with a clipboard in hand, scratching out notes on a piece of parchment with an old quill.

'We've just started him on treatments,' he said. 'I wouldn't expect anything today.'

_An understatement_, thought Ron miserably.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was how a person looked after being Kissed by a Dementor. George's eyes were so blank and unseeing as to be almost soulless. His mouth was slightly open. He showed no sign of hearing Mrs. Weasley as she spoke softly to him, no sign that he felt at all the way she stroked her son's limp hand. The only sign that George was alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Ron wanted to look away, but he couldn't. His eyes were fixed horribly on his older brother, one of a pair of brothers who'd teased him his whole life, and Ron knew, in that moment, he would have given his own right arm just to have George turn his head, look him in the eye and call him 'ickle Ronnikins.'

Ginny was sitting on the other side of George's bed, and Mr. Weasley had his hands on his wife's shoulders. Ron stayed at the foot of George's bed, his throat working furiously, his eyes burning. At that moment, a bead of saliva trickled out of George's mouth. Something about this struck Ron; he felt it like a blow to the chest, and suddenly, he couldn't stay there a minute longer. He fled the room with a choked cough and raced down a corridor, searching for the men's loo.

He found it, burst inside, leaned over the nearest sink, and vomited. He swallowed the threat of tears--he could not cry now. If he did, he wouldn't stop. Instead, he drove his fist into the solid tile on the wall, grunting as he did so. He punched the wall again, and a third time, until the pain coursed over and beyond the anger and grief inside him. He looked down, breathing hard, to find his knuckles bleeding. His hand was swollen and throbbing painfully, but he didn't care. The pain was good, it anchored him, it kept the tears at bay.

He was vaguely aware of the door to the men's room opening, of rushed footsteps coming towards him.

'Ron?' said Ginny tremulously, and then her eyes fell on his hand.

'Merlin, Ron, what have you done?' she said, her voice shaking angrily. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his injured hand toward her.

'This is the men's room, Ginny,' said Ron angrily, trying to pull his hand away, but her grip was like iron, and in truth, the pain was starting to get to him now.

'You don't say?' said Ginny sarcastically, pulling out her wand with her free hand and waving it over his swollen knuckles. The throbbing and puffiness eased somewhat. 'Idiot. Even you can't put a hole through tile with your fist.'

She held onto his hand tightly and then pressed her other palm against his face, and he felt some of his anguish, his fury ease. She winced slightly as his emotions flowed into her and then back out, and stepped back.

'Better?' she said.

Ron looked down at his sister. 'I'm sorry,' he said, feeling very stupid. 'I just...he looked so...lost.'

'He won't be that way forever,' said Ginny. 'He'll come back, Ron.'

'You really believe that?'

'Yeah, I do,' said Ginny. 'Now stop being a prat and punching things. You need both hands for Quidditch, remember? George would kick your arse if you didn't help us win the Quidditch cup this year.'

She grinned at him.

He let out a breath and held her gaze for a moment, and then, with a smiled on his face he pulled her into a hug.

'I love you, Gin,' he murmured. He hadn't said it to her in ages, but now seemed like a good time.

Ginny gave a sniff and hugged him back; she seemed tiny in his arms.

'You're getting mushy on me,' she said.

'Yeah, well,' he said, still hugging her, 'don't tell anyone.'

* * *

Next day started on a grim note. The front page of The Daily Prophet announced yet another break-out from Azkaban. This one, thankfully, had been done in the dead of night and no one had been hurt. However…

'Wormtail's gone,' said Harry darkly, as his eyes scanned the page. 'Nobody knows where he went.'

'"The Ministry speculates that Mr. Pettigrew has gone into hiding,"' Hermione read. '"Last year Mr. Pettigrew gave evidence against many other Death Eaters in return for a reduced sentence. Given Mr. Pettigrew's aid to the Ministry's efforts, it is likely that he has gone underground in order to protect himself from retaliation from You-Know-Who or his followers."'

'Do you think the damn press will ever get around to using Voldemort's actual name?' Harry groused.

'Nope,' said Ron. 'Fear sells.'

After this rather grim news, however, the week flew by, and even with Ron's forced respite from Seer activities, he found himself so busy that he almost didn't miss meditating or recording dreams in his journal.

Almost.

Even though Ron, Harry and Hermione were all busy with schoolwork, finishing up job applications, Quidditch practice and preparations for N.E.W.Ts--Hermione had set up a study schedule for them and Ron knew it was pointless to resist--Ron was nonetheless frustrated by his inability to find out more information about Nott and Goyle.

Blaise and Daphne's efforts had turned up nothing new. Indeed, it almost seemed that from the moment Harry had turned over the Invisibility Cloak to them, Nott and Goyle suddenly stopped talking to each other.

'They're taking no chances, looks like,' said Blaise, in an annoyed voice. 'Goyle's even gone back to his dumb-as-dirt act.'

By mid-week, with Blaise and Daphne's efforts looking more and more fruitless, Ron had, unbeknownst to Harry, Hermione or Ginny, gone to Firenze to plead with him to start up Seer activity early, but Firenze had steadfastly refused. This second refusal caused Ron to seriously consider going behind Firenze's back anyway, but again, Ron gave up on the idea, and wondered at himself that he could lie to his other teachers but not to Firenze, who, technically, wasn't a regular teacher of his at all.

Harry and Ginny began Empath training together in earnest. The very reason for them doing it gave Ron pause: Harry knew that Ginny was carrying around memories of what Tom Riddle had told her when she was being possessed by the diary, and both of them believed that the information could be helpful to Harry in some way. The challenge would be to tap into those memories, as many of them, Ginny was sure, she had suppressed as a means of coping with the trauma of her ordeal. The training seemed to take a lot out of both of them, and both Ron found himself in the ironic position of lecturing Harry and Ginny not to go wearing themselves down as he had done. The training sessions revealed little except Tom Riddle's childhood memories, which, according to Ginny, ranged from the depressing to the tragic. Nobody was sure how such information might help Harry, but both Harry and Ginny were convinced that the connections they made with each other certainly couldn't hurt.

By Friday, with both of them looking exhausted and with Ron having to nudge Harry awake, frequently, as they dragged through lessons, Ron had to wonder otherwise.

In the meantime, Ron occupied himself with helping Hermione slog through her own pile of job applications. She seemed to be looking into half a dozen possible careers, ranging from Healer to various jobs within the Ministry. One application was, quite bizarrely, blank, but then Hermione explained that was the application for being an Unspeakable, and that filling it out meant the candidate had to break whatever charms were hiding the questions, and then put said charms back on the application when finished.

'Unspeakable?' said Ron. 'That means I can't ask you how your day went, can I?'

'You could ask, but I probably wouldn't be able to tell you,' said Hermione, smiling at him.

Harry, meanwhile, did another test run with the potion. Ron had mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, it gave him some hope that Harry really did seem to respond so well to the potion. He also seemed to be getting stronger at using Occlumency whilst under its influence, which Professor Hopkirk and Professor Snape both declared was a good sign (although Snape's assessment was decidedly more cautious).

On the other hand, the mere fact that Snape was there irked Ron. Even if the Potions Master's help on the stuff had been indispensable, Ron hated the negativity the professor carried around with him. Hermione insisted Snape had some right to feel a bit down, considering he'd have to live under what was little better than house arrest for the past several months, owing to his cover as a spy being blown, but Ron merely grumbled that Snape could at least say something positive about Harry's progress, instead of lecturing Harry that he still wasn't practicing his Occlumency enough.

'I mean, Merlin, Harry's only got to save the ruddy world,' Ron grumped one night as he helped Hermione organize her job applications. 'You'd think with that, you know, inconsequential detail Snape'd be a bit nicer about it all.'

'He's a very bitter man,' said Hermione.

'Really?' said Ron sarcastically. 'I hadn't noticed.'

Hermione gave him one of her looks and he shut up, but then he'd grinned at her and they started kissing and the job applications were soon forgotten.

_At least my sex life is still good._

After the first week, Ron forced himself to ease back into Seeing. The first day, he didn't meditate at all, but he did stop taking the Dreamless Sleep Draught, which was a huge relief. Even if being dream-free had its benefits, Ron always hated the heavy, groggy feeling it gave him in the morning hours. He was hardly a morning person, anyway, and that particular potion always made things worse.

That first night, he dreamed. He dreamt of Crookshanks chasing a familiar, funny looking, very tiny man who was only about six inches tall; it was as if the man had drunk a vat of Shrinking Solution. He dreamt of Ginny placing her hands on Harry's forehead and a sudden burst of light. He dreamt, rather oddly, of the Sorting Hat; it was singing a new song in German, but Ron was sure he didn't know a word of German. He dreamt of Lucius Malfoy, in a dark corridor, waving his wand as small flashes of light swirled about him. He dreamt of a green-eyed, brown-hair man in a tunic carrying a jeweled sword; the man held the sword out to Ron, but as Ron reached to take it, Harry intervened, saying 'You'd better not, mate. I think that's for me.' Ron argued and tried to snatch the sword for himself but Harry was faster. Ron dreamed of a flash of light and saw blood on the blade of the sword, and his voice echoed from somewhere very distant. 'Finish it, Harry...'

Ron awoke the second day of what he dubbed his 'return to Seer-dom' and made a grab for his journal. He shook his head several times to clear it, and wrote down everything he remembered. He wasn't sure whether it was a good sign or not that he hadn't seen any visions of Wormtail or other Death Eaters.

He told Hermione, Harry and Ginny all that he had seen; Hermione put down the relevant points in her new list. Ron was particularly bothered by the vision of Lucius Malfoy; it was so fast and vague that Ron wasn't sure if he were seeing some future event, or if in fact Ron was observing Malfoy doing something in the near past.

_Something while Fred and George were being held prisoner._

The evening of that second day, Ron meditated, in the general sense, for about fifteen minutes. The images were disjointed, strange, and disturbing, and they flew by so fast that he forgot most of them almost at once, but a few stood out. He saw Pansy Parkinson standing at a cauldron, stirring something; in the next instant she was screaming and Death Eaters were ripping at her clothes and laughing. He saw Ginny pressing her hands to Harry's forehead again as a warm, golden glow surrounded them. He saw the sword clatter across a stone floor, blood smeared on its blade. He heard a loud, unearthly scream and saw bone-white, skeletal hands lift in the air; they, too, were covered in blood.

By mid-week, Ron's visions were clearer and yet it was as if they began to cycle on themselves. They kept recurring in a kind of nonsensical sequence. He remembered that Firenze had told him that recurring images and themes typically meant something important or imminent. The sword kept appearing. The hands that had thrust in the air, the bloodied hands that were like the hands of a skeleton...those, too, made repeat appearances. As did the green-eyed man, although his actions varied. Sometimes he held the jeweled sword. Other times he just stood there and called, in a distant voice, that Harry and Ron were going the wrong way down a dark corridor.

He discussed all this with Harry, Hermione and Ginny, of course. He still didn't fully trust Blaise and Daphne, but the two of them, at the very least, were giving Ron and Hermione regular reports after the weekly prefect meetings. So far, they said, they hadn't been able to catch Nott or Goyle in any compromising situation.

Of course, this was probably due to the fact that McGonagall was now aware of the existence of the secret passage on the fourth floor. After a few abortive attempts to get past it themselves, Ron and Hermione determined the best course would be to tell McGonagall about the passage. They consulted with Harry, Ginny, Blaise and Daphne, all of whom agreed, but Blaise asked Hermione to not mention him or Daphne's involvement.

'Blaise, it might be safer for you if McGonagall knew what you were doing,' said Hermione. 'What if you're spying on Nott and he catches you out? You could get hurt.'

'I know,' said Blaise, 'but if it's all the same to you, the lower the profile Daphne and I keep the better. And...anyway, if we're going to tell anyone we'd rather tell Snape. He's our Head of House, we trust him.'

Ron bit his tongue and said nothing; even after all these years and the risks Snape had taken, Ron was still a bit wary of the potions master. Given that none of them had ever figured out just why Snape had stopped being a Death Eater, Ron figured it was best to keep an eye on the Potions Master and not get too cozy with him.

Ron and Hermione, therefore, had gone to McGonagall the previous week, while Ron was still on hiatus from Seer activities, and informed her of the passage's existence, leaving out all references to Daphne and Blaise (Hermione concocted a story that she and Ron had found Goyle sneaking out on the night they were on patrols, and when they tried to follow him, they couldn't, owing to the invisible barrier).

McGonagall was incensed; she had taken the trouble to locate all seven of the secret passages leading in and out of Hogwarts, and she was damn sure she had sealed them all up. Ron was surprised to hear of this, but then again, he, Harry and Hermione hadn't snuck out of the castle through one of the passages all year, so it wasn't as if he would have known about this.

'Obviously this is more serious than I thought,' she said, sounding very unnerved. 'I'll need new wards on all seven passages at once. If I can't get that invisible barrier to come down in that fourth floor passage, well...at least I can put up new barriers around it. This might also be a good time to redo the wards on the castle itself.'

So by the end of the week that first week from Ron's recovery, all the passages in the castle, along with the castle itself, were sealed again, with new wards.

'So that's why Goyle hasn't been going up to the fourth floor passage,' said Daphne, after the following week's prefect meeting. 'McGonagall's got new wards and barriers.'

They all stood in the staff room, which Hermione had sealed with Silencing and Imperturbable Charms after the other prefects had left. Harry and Ginny had quietly joined Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Daphne.

'Do you think they'll hold?' said Blaise. 'McGonagall's wards? I'm amazed someone could get through her first set.'

'That does raise the question,' said Hermione. 'McGonagall might not be Dumbledore, but she also is very powerful. It would have taken a long time for anyone to break through her wards.'

'You know, even if Goyle isn't totally thick I can't see him taking down all those wards,' said Ron.

'Maybe he and Nott both worked on it,' Blaise suggested.

'That's possible, but that means they were both sneaking around a lot,' said Hermione. 'With the all the extra security...it'd be really hard for them both to keep sneaking about without getting caught at least once.'

'Neither of them have a handy Invisibility Cloak, either,' said Blaise. Ron, Harry and Hermione all looked at him with raised eyebrows.

'I went digging through their stuff,' said the Slytherin, shrugging and without a trace of remorse in his voice. 'Figured I might be able to find something incriminating, but nothing. They've covered their tracks.'

'Or they figured you'd start poking round their stuff,' said Harry.

'What about Malfoy?' Ron asked. 'We haven't really heard or seen much of him lately.'

'What about him?' said Daphne. 'He keeps entirely to himself; he's either always at the library or with Snape.'

'He wouldn't be involved,' said Ginny firmly.

'Not unless he fancies joining up with the lot who murdered Pansy,' said Daphne. 'They had a really weird thing between them but...he cared about her in his way, I guess.'

'We're missing something,' said Harry, sounding frustrated.

'Why don't we just grab them and make them drink a bit of Veritaserum?' said Ron.

'We would have done that if we were able to get into Snape's storeroom,' said Blaise unabashedly. 'But he's kept it locked up tight as a drum since Christmas.'

'He must be working on something important,' said Daphne. 'That's the only reason we can make out why he'd go to all the trouble, warding the storeroom like that.'

Harry exchanged looks with Ron, but said nothing.

'Makes McGonagall's wards on the castle look shabby,' Blaise was saying.

'I take it you've tried to get in,' said Ron dryly.

Blaise gave him a look that told Ron all he needed to know.

'Anyway,' said Blaise, 'what now? Do we keep on with this?'

'I don't see any other alternative,' said Hermione. 'As long as you both are careful.'

'Always,' said Blaise, and with that, he and Daphne left the staff room. Hermione locked the door behind them.

'Well,' said Hermione, 'we don't seem to be getting very far on their end. Maybe we should tell them everything.'

'No,' said Harry at once. 'They're too close. Nott already suspects something. Better to keep Blaise and Daphne in the dark for now. But...you know, maybe I should give them the Marauders' Map. That way they can keep up with Nott and Goyle, figure out where they're going.'

Ron bit his lip, but nodded. 'Much as I hate the idea of you giving them that, too, Harry...I think you're right.' He looked at Hermione, and then back at Harry. 'But maybe you should let Hermione, you know, fix it first.'

* * *

A few more weeks passed. Harry gave Blaise and Daphne the map the following day, after a Potions lesson. They were both stunned and impressed by it, and promised to take good care of it. Ron could only imagine what would happen to them if they did try to tamper with it in some way.

Giving Blaise and Daphne the map, however, didn't seem to do much good. Even with the map, neither of them was able to glean any useful information. The times they were able to use the map, neither Nott nor Goyle attempted to sneak out. And Blaise and Daphne reported, in frustrated tones, that in public, Nott and Goyle never huddled together anymore to speak in hushed tones. It was as if whatever they were planning had already happened--Ron shuddered to think of this, given that he'd had no visions of any kind on that front--or that their plan was on hold for the moment. Either way, it was quite maddening, to feel as though they were on the brink of finding out something important, but were unable to do so.

Meanwhile, Ron and the others took up their old habit of checking the paper every day. By the time three days had passed after the Azkaban break-out, the story had been relegated to a single paragraph in the back pages of the newspaper, and now it merited less than this. The Ministry, it was said, was 'working round the clock' to apprehend the escapees. Wormtail was already being presumed dead, and Ron half believed it could be true. He was surprised that Wormtail had escaped, anyway. It was surely safer for him to be under the Ministry's watchful eye, and yet, when the opportunity had arisen, he'd fled.

'He's probably dead by now,' said Harry hopefully. 'I can't imagine Voldemort not getting one of his toadies to do Wormtail in.'

'Wouldn't I have had some hint of that?' said Ron. 'That arsehole posed as my pet for a good few years. Surely I would have seen something if he'd snuffed it.'

_But would I have? Didn't __Firenze__ tell you that people who don't want to be found--people who are really evil--can close themselves off so that I can't see them?_

_Yeah, he did. And Wormtail certainly qualifies as evil._

'As long as we don't see any suspicious looking rats around,' said Hermione, 'I think we're okay.'

Needless to say, all of them were being more careful. They even told Blaise and Daphne to keep their eyes on the map for any sign of the Animagus known as Peter Pettigrew; the two Slytherins dutifully reported back, on several occasions, that they hadn't seen any sign of Pettigrew, on the map or otherwise, in human or rat form.

'Not that there's much difference between the two,' Ron said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione began to study for N.E.W.Ts in earnest. Ron and Ginny had begun to receive regular reports from their mother about George; after three weeks of treatment, he still wasn't talking, but he had stopped staring blankly at the ceiling, was sitting up on his own, and sometimes looked at and seemed to recognize his parents. Augustus Pye, Mrs. Weasley informed them, took this as a very good sign.

Ron and the others continued to hold weekly meetings with Blaise and Daphne, always just after a prefect meeting. The Quidditch final was nearly at hand, but for all Ron's hard work in practices, he found he couldn't care all that much about the outcome. With every passing day he felt more and more restless. He was still having the same cycle of visions every time he meditated. When he finally decided to start up with Tactile Sight again, using Harry's broom, he only saw the same images over and over again. Always the sword. Always Harry using it. Always Ron telling Harry to 'finish it', whatever 'it' was. The brief flashes of Lucius Malfoy in a dark corridor. And over and over again, the last horrible minutes of Pansy Parkinson's life.

'I dunno why I keep seeing her,' said Ron grumpily, on a warm Sunday morning as they sat in the staff room again, waiting for yet another prefect meeting to start. Harry and Ginny were in an Empath training session.

'Especially when I'm holding Harry's broom,' Ron went on. 'It makes no sense. Pansy never had anything to do with Harry.'

'You saw her die, Ron,' said Hermione sympathetically. 'Maybe when you...see death, it stays with you a lot longer. And she died so horribly.'

'Maybe,' said Ron. In fact, Hermione had a very good point, but it didn't make seeing Pansy's death any easier. 'At least I've got that Pensieve. The worst of that memory's in there, thank god.'

'If you ask me,' said Hermione, 'the sword is what's important. I mean, not to discount Pansy at all but...you're right, she had nothing to do with Harry. The sword, though--you keep Seeing that over and over, and that man who's probably Godric Gryffindor. It's as if Gryffindor is giving Harry the sword to use on Voldemort.'

'That's what I'm thinking,' said Ron. 'I mean, yeah, that part seems obvious. But why do I try to take it, I wonder?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione. 'But it seems like your vision is telling us that...that Harry really could be the Heir of Gryffindor, if there is one.'

Ron had forgotten about that possibility. 'That's possible,' he said. 'But...Hermione, surely Dumbledore would have known if that was the case. I mean, yeah, Dumbledore kept some stuff from Harry for a while but...wouldn't he have said something to Harry before he died? Told him the truth about everything?'

Hermione started to argue, but then she stopped and looked as though she were considering Ron's words.

'I hadn't thought of that,' she said. 'But, you know, even if Harry's isn't Gryffindor's heir, or if there isn't an heir at all, there must be some connection between them, if you keep seeing them interacting like that. I mean, it's not like they ever could in real life, given that Gryffindor's been dead a thousand years.'

'Fair enough,' said Ron, 'but what could that connection be? The sword?'

'That,' said Hermione, 'but I think there's something deeper as well. I just can't figure out what it is.'

'And Lucius Malfoy,' said Ron darkly. 'I know you and Harry think I'm only having visions about him because of...because of what he did to Fred and George, but...I'm telling you, it doesn't look that way to me. Lucius is alone and he's doing something. I just can't tell what it is.'

Ron had already expressed all this to Harry and Ginny as well; both agreed that the sword seemed to be the important thing. They had earlier in the week gone to McGonagall to ask about the sword, and her curt reply was that it was 'very safe,' but that if Harry really felt like he needed it, she was happy to let him have it. Harry had demurred. Keeping the sword in his room, he had said, didn't seem like such a good idea, at least not at the moment.

Ron and Hermione were about to speak further on the whole subject but were cut off by the arrival of the prefects.

Blaise and Daphne came in, both looking pale and worried, and Ron felt his senses go on alert. As Blaise passed, he muttered, 'I've got something.'

Whatever Blaise had got would have to wait, though. Hermione exchanged glances with him, and then called the meeting to order.

Ron forced himself to pay attention; it was his job at this meeting to pass out and to explain the memoranda on the security rules for the upcoming Quidditch final. Security would be exceptionally tight this year, owing to last year's attack.

'We can't have a repeat of last year,' Ron said gravely, and Padma Patil shuddered.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter, and again, Blaise and Daphne hung back. Harry and Ginny appeared only a few minutes later, both looking worn out. Ron quickly secured the door and the staff room as Hermione arranged six chairs in a circle.

Blaise and Daphne didn't sit.

'What?' Ron asked, suddenly feeling alarmed. He had never seen the Slytherin prefects look so unnerved. Blaise, in particular, looked exhausted and his normally olive skin was pale.

'Last night,' said Blaise, 'I stayed up all night, under the cloak. I wanted to keep a look out. Daph and I gave up on the map and tried to follow those two around. They're just being too careful. I figured maybe I should just wait for them to come around.'

There was a pause as he took a deep breath.

'Good thing I did,' Blaise said. 'Nott came into the common room right around four o'clock in the morning. Had his wand out, was being really quiet. He checked his watch and sat down next to the fireplace. Like he was waiting for someone.'

'Was it Goyle?' Ron asked.

'Yeah,' said Blaise. 'Nott sat down and not thirty seconds later he's talking to Goyle. Only technically, Goyle wasn't in the room.'

For a moment, nobody seemed to know what Blaise was talking about, but Ginny's eyes suddenly widened.

'He was in the fireplace,' she breathed.

'His head was,' said Blaise. 'Goyle used Floo Powder to talk to Nott.'

'That's...odd,' said Hermione.

'I'll say,' said Blaise fervently. 'Seeing as I saw Goyle turn in several hours earlier. He never came back downstairs. All of a sudden his head's in the fire. It made no sense--if they were trying to have a secret conversation, why not just talk upstairs with an Imperturbable Charm on one of their beds?'

'That does make a lot more sense,' Ron agreed.

'It gets weirder,' said Blaise. 'I was going to run upstairs and try to fetch the map but there wasn't time. They started talking and I got the sense they wouldn't be talking for long. I figured it was better to just listen to them. Turns out I was right, about them keeping it short. The conversation lasted barely five minutes, and they were speaking German again. I couldn't make out everything they were saying but I caught parts of it, and I put stuff together from there.'

'What did they say?' Hermione asked.

'Nott was bitching at him about not showing up sooner,' said Blaise. 'And Goyle says he couldn't get back inside sooner, on account of all McGonagall's wards.'

'What?' said Ron, confused. 'That makes no sense. Goyle's been here all this time. He couldn't have gone off the grounds without someone knowing about it. There's way too much security.'

'You don't have to tell me that, Weasley,' said Blaise. 'But Goyle was there, in the fire, telling Nott he couldn't get to him last night. Somehow, last night he got off grounds without anyone knowing.'

'But you said he never came downstairs that night?' said Harry. 'Could he have flown out?'

'No,' said Hermione at once, and she looked very upset. 'McGonagall took no chances with these wards. She designed them specifically so that any student trying to get off grounds, or anyone trying to get in without permission, would set off an alert. Even if Goyle was flying McGonagall or Filch or Snape would have known about it.'

'So how the hell did Goyle get out last night without setting off the alarm bells?' Ron asked.

'Because apparently Goyle's been dismantling the new wards bit by bit,' said Blaise.

The room was filled with gasps.

'That's...that's not possible,' Hermione said. 'Goyle can't have done that, not by himself. And even if he did, he couldn't have done it unless he saw McGonagall put them up in the first place.'

'And he doesn't have an Invisibility Cloak,' said Harry. 'You said so yourself.'

'How on earth could he have gotten close enough to see what McGonagall was doing?' Ron asked.

'I don't know,' said Blaise, sounding frustrated. 'I'm just telling you what he said. Goyle told Nott things were close to being finished. Said he got what he was supposed to get and now it was Nott's turn.'

'What did Goyle get?' Ginny asked.

'Goyle never said,' said Blaise. 'But Nott said something about a sword. I'm not sure what, but I know I heard the word _Klinge_, which is German for sword.'

The silence in the room was so sudden, so complete, that one could have heard a pin drop. Ron exchanged horrified looks with Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

'What?' said Blaise.

'Nothing,' said Hermione quickly, and she gave Ron, Harry and Ginny significant looks as she covered for them. 'Er...a sword? Did Nott say which sword? I mean, there are probably a hundred or more in the castle. We have all those suits of armor, and the trophy room has some hanging on plaques...'

'No, he didn't say,' said Blaise, eyeing Hermione suspiciously. 'But that's not the important part, anyway.'

Ron bit back a retort, but at that moment, he couldn't imagine what could be worse than Goyle managing to tear down nearly all of McGonagall's wards and Nott preparing to steal the sword of Gryffindor. Because there was no other sword in the castle, Ron was certain, that was as important or powerful as that one. And suddenly Ron's vision began to make sense to him in a new way.

There was no question that Harry needed the sword to kill Voldemort. But somehow, Voldemort had figured this out, and wanted the sword for himself. To use against Harry.

'What happened?' Ron asked instead, forcing himself to focus on Blaise's story.

'I followed Nott back upstairs,' said Blaise. 'I couldn't climb into my own bed--I'd kept the curtains shut and put a charm round them so nobody could look in. But everyone else had their curtains at least half-open. Including Goyle, who was snoring like a pig.'

Another collective gasp rose in the room.

'So, unless Goyle can be in two places at once...' said Blaise.

'...one of the people Blaise saw last night wasn't Goyle at all,' said Daphne.

'Bloody hell,' said Harry and Ron together.

'I don't know why we didn't think of it before,' said Daphne.

'Remember how I said, a few weeks ago, Goyle had gone back to his dumb-as-dirt routine?' said Blaise. 'Goyle really is as stupid as we think he is. Somebody else has been impersonating him, getting inside the castle, and sneaking back out again.'

'Dear god,' said Hermione. 'And whoever this person is, he's nearly broken down the wards again.'

'Whoever's doing this must be really powerful,' said Daphne.

Blaise began to pace; he looked very agitated. 'What pisses me off is I couldn't get to the map in time. Not without alerting Nott. I had to wait until he was asleep to fetch the map, and by then it was too late. Whoever it was that was in that fireplace was long gone.'

'Dammit!' Harry muttered.

'I'm sorry,' said Blaise, and he looked genuinely remorseful. 'If I'd had the map on me I could have found out who that person was, and maybe I could have seen if he'd gotten help on those wards. It didn't even occur to me to keep it on me all the time.'

He reached into his pocket and extracted the map. 'Here, take it,' he said. 'Maybe we should trade off using it, or something. Try working in shifts. See if we can catch one of them out when they don't expect. It looks like they've been operating in the early morning hours, when everyone's asleep. I suppose that should have occurred to use sooner.'

'It's okay,' said Harry, as he took the map.

'What you've told us is really helpful,' said Hermione, addressing Blaise and Daphne. 'But...we should tell McGonagall, right now. All of us.'

'Let's go,' Blaise agreed. The six of them hurried out of the staff room, but as they rounded the corner to head to McGonagall's office, they were greeted with the sight of a dozen Aurors running at them, with their wands out. However, they didn't seem to see Ron and the others as their targets, as they sprinted past the six of them without saying a word.

'What the--' Ron muttered as he watched them race past.

Just then, bells began to ring loudly throughout the corridors. Ron instinctively yanked out his wand and saw the others do the same. At that moment, McGonagall's voice, magically reverberating through the corridors, boomed over them.

'Attention students: this is an emergency. Please return directly to your house common rooms. All house prefects should also report to their common rooms, and seal the entrances. Security trolls will be posted outside each common room entrance. Students are to remain there until it is declared safe to leave!'

'What's going on?' Hermione cried.

'Hey!' Ron yelled, to another group of Aurors that were rushing past them. 'What's up?'

'Attack in Hogsmeade,' one of them barked. 'Bunch of giants on a rampage.' The Auror didn't even stop to look at Ron or the others as he raced past.

'Giants,' Hermione whispered. 'Oh, no.'

'We have to get back to Slytherin,' said Daphne.

'Go,' said Hermione. 'Hurry!' The two Slytherins raced away in the direction of the dungeons.

'We should get back, too,' Ginny urged.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly he was overcome with dizziness. He grunted and stumbled as the colors in front of his eyes began to swirl.

'Ron?' said Hermione anxiously.

Ron sank to his knees and his eyes went wide as the vision came into focus.

'Ron!' Hermione cried.

'I think he's having a vision,' said Harry, his voice sounding very far away.

_Ron blinked and he found himself in a dark, dank corridor. No, not even a corridor. It was a passageway, held up by rotting bricks and damp earth. He squinted up ahead and saw a dim light; the light was moving, flickering softly. As Ron edged closer, he saw a tall, robed, hooded figure. The figure's right arm was moving gracefully in the air, tracing patterns with a wand. Small flashes of light popped and glimmered and then there was a great, shuddering ripple of energy and something seemed to fall down, although that something was invisible. The robed figure spoke._

_'Hurry up!' the man snapped, for the voice did, indeed, belong to a man._

_And then Ron heard, from a distance, the pounding of footsteps. Someone was running. Another light, a bouncing, dim light, was far off in the distance, but it was moving closer._

_'Hurry up!' the robed man hissed, and suddenly a second figure came into view; he, or she, was also wearing black robes and a hood obscured his/her face. The second, smaller hooded figure stopped in front of the first, panting. He had a strange lump beneath his robes._

_'Did you get it?' said the hooded man._

_'Got it,' panted the second figure--also a man, by the sound of it._

_'Let's go,' said the first man, and he turned and Ron stumbled backwards as the sight of gleaming, white-blond hair came into view..._

'NO!'

'Ron!' Hermione cried, slapping Ron gently on the face. 'Wake up!'

Ron blinked once and then leapt to his feet; his whole body was seething with adrenaline.

'Lucius Malfoy!' he roared. 'He's the one who took down the wards. He's in the passage right now, he could be getting away. We have to go after him!'

'Wh-what?' Ginny gasped. 'Ron, what are you--'

'Don't you get it?' Ron yelled. 'The giants, the attack in Hogsmeade was a diversion! Come on! We have to get to the fourth floor corridor!'

* * *

**A/N: Thanks a million times over to lina and Buckbeaky, two wonderful betas who have stuck with this story and made it so much better!**

**And yeah, I know. The cliffhanger is mean. Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite as long!**


	44. Chapter Forty Four: To Catch a Spy

_Chapter Forty-Four: To Catch a Spy_

Ron took off at a sprint without looking to see if the others would follow; Harry stared blankly at his retreating figure for a split second before his own brain clunked into place, and he turned to Ginny and Hermione.

'Come on!' he urged, and the three of them took off after Ron, struggling to catch up with his long strides.

As it turned out, getting upstairs was no easy feat. They had to dodge panicking students who were rushing to their dormitories; halfway up the stairs they found themselves defending against yet another attack from Peeves, who thought it funny to send objects from the trophy room hurtling down at them. By the time they approached the fourth floor landing, at least ten minutes had passed.

Ron, his face red and furious, reached the fourth floor first; he leapt onto the landing. Hermione screamed as a beam of red light shot towards him, but Ron threw up a Shield Charm and deflected the spell; Harry ducked out of the way of the spell as it ricocheted.

'Stop!' Ron bellowed, and Harry saw him raise his wand and fire a spell at a black-robed figure that was slipping behind the mirror.

The figure dove behind the mirror, just ducking out of the way of Ron's spell; then the figure leapt out and his hood came off, revealing long, pale blond hair.

_'Incendio!'_ Lucius Malfoy shouted, sending a spell at Ron.

_'Protego!'_ Ron bellowed, and Malfoy's spell bounced away from Ron's Shield Charm in a ball of flame. _'Expelliarmus!'___

Lucius ducked behind the mirror and the spell caught the frame. In the next instant he shouted _'Diffindo!'_ and a Cutting Charm headed straight for Ron's throat.

_'Protego!'_ Hermione screamed; the spell bounced away. Ginny and Harry ducked quickly as the beam of light zoomed past them. Hermione then hurled an Asphyxiation Spell at Malfoy, but he deflected it and jumped behind the mirror again. Ron advanced, blocking yet another curse sent his way by Malfoy, but then Hermione aimed her wand at the mirror.

'_Reducto!'_ she bellowed. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Ron threw up his hands to avoid getting glass in the face, but Malfoy wasn't quick enough. He gave a furious howl of pain as glass slashed at his face, and Harry winced as a piece slashed at the Death Eater's right eye. Malfoy howled and blindly threw a curse with his wand hand as his left hand clapped over his right eye. Blood seeped down his face as Harry blocked Malfoy's wild curse.

Just then, another black-robed figure appeared; it was Theodore Nott, and he had an oddly shaped lump under his robes.

_'Stupefy!'_ Harry shouted, throwing a Stunner at Nott; Nott deflected it as Lucius Malfoy pointed his wand at several nearby suits of armor.

_'Animare!'_ he yelled; he shouted the spell several times, and the suits of armor sprang to life. 'Kill them!' he added, and the suits of armor began to advance at Harry and the others; the ones that had weapons began swinging them dangerously. Nott fired off two more curses, which Hermione and Harry blocked.

_'Reducto!'_ Ginny screamed, and she blew apart a suit of armor. Its axe when flying at Harry and he shouted an Impediment Jinx, halting it in midair for a moment, and then letting it drop heavily to the floor.

Ron, meanwhile, was deftly moving closer to the entrance of the passage. Nott fired an Amputation Curse and Ron leapt easily out of the way, letting the spell hit the wall; in the next instant Ron aimed at another suit of armor and shouted _'Immobilius!' _

Lucius's face was streaked with blood as he shouted another curse, this one at Harry; Harry blocked it, and sent another Reductor Curse at one of the suits of armor. It came apart, its shield falling over, but Harry caught it with a Levitation Spell, and then he sent it hurtling toward Lucius Malfoy with a Banishing Charm. Malfoy leapt into the passageway but the shield caught him on the ankle, hard. He went tumbling and yelled out in pain again.

'Don't let him get away!' Ron cried, leaping aside just in time to avoid a Leg Breaker Curse that Nott had thrown.

Harry saw Nott clutching at the lump beneath his robes--it was rather oddly shaped to be a sword--but at once Harry was struck by an idea.

_'Accio sword!'_ he shouted, aiming at Nott. The spell struck Nott and the lump beneath his robes stirred, but Nott was quick; he clapped a hand firmly over it and shot a Stunner at Harry in retaliation, which Harry blocked.

'Get inside!' Lucius roared at Nott, who threw up a Shield Charm to block a Stunner from Ginny.

Nott obeyed and dove into the passage just as Ron advanced again, kicking past a fallen suit of armor.

'Ron, look out!' Hermione screamed, as Lucius Malfoy, bloodied and standing on ankle that was bent at an odd angle, stood up and pointed his wand at Ron's chest.

_'Avada Kedavra!'_ he hissed.

'NO!' The scream resonated through the hall, and Harry knew he, Hermione and Ginny had all made it, but Ron's expression didn't change as he screamed _'Protego!'_

The force of his Shield Charm was so strong that the entire room lit up with it; the magic made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up. The green beam of light slowed but continued its inexorable path to Ron. Harry didn't waste time thinking--he levitated and Banished yet another of the shields from the derelict suits of armor and send it speeding toward the green light.

The explosion knocked them all off their feet. Harry felt his hand smack the stone floor painfully and his wand go skittering across the flagstones. The green light of the Killing Curse struck the shield and the shield didn't so much shatter as disintegrate. Harry rolled onto his side and saw, to his horror, that the Killing Curse still moved, but almost in slow motion, and when he looked over at Ron, he saw Ron flat on his back, staring up wide-eyed as the curse sailed over head, heading straight for a portrait of a young girl knitting. The girl in the portrait gave scream and leapt out of the painting just before the beam of light smashed into it, turning it to dust and taking a chunk out of the wall.

Lucius Malfoy gave a growl of frustration; Harry looked up and went to lift his wand but then he remembered that his wand was across the corridor.

_'Accio wand!'_ he yelled, stretching his swelling hand towards it. To Harry's amazement, the wand came sailing across the corridor to land in his palm.

_'Stupefy!'_ Harry roared, but he was too late. Lucius Malfoy dove into the passageway, a piece of his black Death Eater robes tearing as he went.

'No!' Ron shouted, and he leapt up and in two strides he'd crossed to the passageway. In the next instant, he moved off to the left and slammed himself against the wall.

'Get back,' he hissed to the others. Harry pulled Ginny up and they flattened themselves to the right wall beside the passage. Without really knowing he was doing it, Harry began to sidle over to the entrance, keeping his wand out--his hand was swelling painfully now, but the adrenaline racing through his body dulled the pain and allowed him to hold onto his wand firmly. Ginny was right behind him, crouched in a defensive stance, with her back to the wall.

Hermione went behind Ron as he put a finger to his lips.

Ron then pointed to his own chest, and then to the passage entrance. His intention was clear.

_I go first_,Harry thought. He shook his head and pointed to himself.

'Harry,' Ginny whispered. 'Ron's right. Let him go first.'

Harry looked back at Ginny, and saw the look on her face. She was terrified, but determined, and yet there was something else. Another emotion. She gripped his wrist for a moment, and he could almost read her thoughts.

_Nothing can happen to you. That's why Ron goes first._

The implication was horrible, and Harry's first instinct was to resist.

_No way. Ron can't go throwing himself in front of me!_

_Harry, you're the one who has to beat Voldemort. Let Ron go first!_

Ginny bit her lip, and Harry knew what it cost her to feel this way. The idea of losing her brother to protect him, the Boy Who Must Defeat Voldemort...

Harry swallowed, and looked back at Ron, whose whole body was tensed; Ron's blue eyes were wide and he shrugged at Harry, as if to say, 'Well?'

Harry let out a breath and nodded.

_If anything happens to him..._

Before Harry could even finish that thought, Ron, with his wand outstretched, leapt into the passage, shouting a loud and powerful Impediment Jinx, followed immediately by a Shield Charm.

Harry and the girls stumbled into the passage after him, only to find it empty.

'No,' Ron groaned, and he ran forward, only to collide, hard, with an invisible wall. Harry winced as Ron's nose bounced against the barrier, but Ron didn't seem to notice.

'No, no, NO!' Ron howled, pounding the invisible barrier with his fist. He then stepped back and pointed his wand at the barrier. Harry kicked at it, but it was as solid as steel.

Ron, meanwhile, aimed his wand at the barrier.

'Wait,' said Harry at once. 'It could bounce back.'

'Good point,' Ron conceded, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He turned back to the girls. 'Be ready with a Shield Charm in case this spell ricochets.'

Ron gave the three of them about a second to lift their wands and he shouted a Reductor Curse at the invisible barrier.

The curse didn't bounce back. Rather, it seemed to be absorbed into the barrier and disappear.

The four of them tried several more curses, but nothing worked. The barrier simply seemed to suck up all the magical energy, and it was Hermione who finally ordered them to stop.

'For all we know, we're only making this thing stronger by throwing curses at it,' she said.

'Dammit,' Ron muttered, and as the four of them conceded defeat, they exited the passage and re-entered the corridor, which was littered with shattered suits of armor.

'They got away,' Ron groaned. 'We were so close.'

'Nott had something under his robes,' said Ginny. 'Do you reckon...was it the sword?'

'It could have been,' said Hermione, 'but...I'm not sure.'

'The lump didn't look like a sword,' said Harry, 'but maybe he wrapped it up in something.'

'We have to find McGonagall, or an Auror,' said Ron. 'Let's go.'

* * *

As it turned out, finding McGonagall was easier than they expected; she was just coming into the main entrance when Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny burst down the stairs and into the Entrance Hall.

'What on earth?' McGonagall cried.

Ron came to an abrupt halt in front of Harry and the girls; the three of them plowed into Ron, who stumbled but didn't fall. McGonagall was very disheveled and had a bruise on her right cheek; her normally tidy hair was falling out of its bun and her hat was gone. She stood wide-eyed and furious in front of several other Aurors, including James Marchbanks and Kenneth Towler. Just behind the teachers was, Harry guessed, half the Hogwarts' teaching staff.

'Explain yourselves!' McGonagall hissed. 'Explain why you are not in Gryffindor Tower as I expressly ordered you!'

Harry, Ron and Ginny started to talk as one, but Hermione cut in loudly.

'We're sorry, Professor,' said Hermione, 'but Ron...well, he saw something.'

McGonagall's eyes widened even further for a brief moment, and then she quickly crossed to them.

'You had a vision, Weasley?' McGonagall muttered, in a very low voice.

'Er...yeah,' said Ron quickly. He clearly knew that Hermione was about to fudge the truth, so he didn't elaborate further; he simply glanced at Hermione, who jumped in on cue.

'It's Lucius Malfoy,' Hermione whispered. 'He's been breaking into the school all this time, tearing down your wards. Ron saw it. And...he saw Malfoy and Nott stealing something.'

McGonagall took a deep breath. 'Well, we'd better get on this right away--'

'It's too late,' Hermione said quickly. 'They've already been inside; they just got away.'

'What?' McGonagall breathed. 'Are you saying...?'

'The attack in Hogsmeade was a diversion,' said Harry. 'They stole the sword of Gryffindor.'

'How do you know this?' McGonagall hissed.

Ron started to speak, but Hermione intervened with a half-truth. 'We were coming down to tell you about Ron's vision,' she said, 'but we heard something on the fourth floor corridor. It was them, and they attacked us.'

'Good lord!' McGonagall cried, momentarily forgetting to keep her voice down.

'It's okay,' said Hermione. 'We fought them off but...it's a mess upstairs. We tried to stop them but they got away.'

At this, McGonagall swore. Harry had never heard her utter a swear word in his life. She looked livid.

'How on earth did Lucius Malfoy...I should have known...and Nott, all this time, I never knew he could take it this far...' Her voice trailed off. The last time Harry had seen her this angry, it had been just after Cornelius Fudge had allowed a Dementor to Kiss Barty Crouch, Jr. before he could give evidence against Lucius Malfoy after Harry's ordeal in the graveyard.

'You four, get upstairs immediately,' she said suddenly. 'I have things to do. Weasley, Granger,' she added, nodding sharply at Ron and Hermione, 'make sure all the Gryffindors are accounted for. After that, I want all the seventh year prefects in each house to thoroughly patrol their surrounding areas and report back to you; let the sixth years keep the other students contained in their dormitories or common rooms. Under no circumstances is anyone else to leave, understood?'

'Yes, ma'am,' said Ron and Hermione obediently.

'That means you stay put, too, Potter,' said McGonagall, giving him a pointed look, before she turned back to gather with the other teachers and the Aurors.

* * *

It was an unspoken agreement among all four of them not to mention one word about what they had seen, or the battle they had fought, to their housemates. Hermione had managed to patch up Ron's bleeding cheek with a quick healing spell before they went inside. Considering the battle they'd just had, it was amazing they got through it with only one of them getting a small cut on the face. The Fat Lady gave them an arch look before letting them in.

The common room was in an uproar. Several younger students were crying; Seamus and Dean were arguing; Colin Creevey and Neville Longbottom were trying to keep some semblance of order and failing miserably.

'QUIET!' Ron bellowed, and the whole room went suddenly silent; the entire first-year population gazed up at Ron in fear.

'Everyone calm down,' said Ron in a gentler voice.

'P-please, Ron,' said Lizzie Towler, in a tiny voice, 'what's going on? We were locked in and we saw all these flashes of light in the distance, and we heard what sounded like explosions and crashes--'

'There was an attack in Hogsmeade,' said Ron, fighting to keep his voice steady, as several younger students gasped, 'but the teachers are on top of it.' He faltered and glanced at Hermione; Ron had never been a facile liar. Hermione caught his expression and spoke up.

'Nobody's getting into the school that doesn't belong here,' she lied. Then she added, 'You're all safe and McGonagall will be back to explain everything, okay?'

'Can't you tell us what happened?' Dennis Creevey asked.

'We don't know anything more than you do,' said Ron. 'We weren't allowed to go outside the castle.'

'We had to make a quick sweep of the corridors to make sure they were all clear,' said Hermione quickly.

'We just have to stay calm,' said Ron, his voice more even. 'Now listen up. McGonagall wants Hermione and I to do...another patrol of the floor and the surrounding area, okay? You're all to stay here until we get back. We won't be long.'

'Sixth year prefects, it's your job to make sure everyone stays here,' said Hermione, and with that, they left the common room.

Indeed, it took very little time for Ron and Hermione to return. Harry wasn't surprised. It didn't seem likely that any Death Eaters would linger in the castle, not now with all the Aurors and teachers back.

But in the fifteen minutes that Ron and Hermione were gone, Harry had time to reflect on what had happened, and something that had been nagging him from the moment Ron had led them to the fourth floor corridor suddenly struck him.

'Ginny,' Harry whispered, moving closer to her, 'Goyle wasn't there.'

'What?' Ginny whispered back.

'Goyle,' said Harry. 'He wasn't there. The fake one, I mean. It was just Lucius and Nott.'

Ginny moved closer to Harry; they had huddled in a far corner, sitting on the floor (all the chairs and the sofa were taken). Nobody seemed to be paying them much attention, for which Harry was grateful.

'Do you think...Lucius could be the imposter?' Ginny murmured.

'Could be,' said Harry. 'He's smart enough for something like that. He might not have even needed Polyjuice Potion. He'd know how to do a bunch of Glamour Spells and pass himself off as Goyle.'

'Maybe,' said Ginny, but then her brow furrowed. 'Except...didn't Ron say when he saw Nott and Goyle--the fake one--talking that one night, that Goyle seemed a bit nervous? Lucius Malfoy doesn't strike me as the nervous sort at all.'

'True,' said Harry. 'But who else could it be? I mean, wouldn't the imposter have been there helping Nott and Malfoy get away?'

'Not necessarily,' said Ginny. 'If the fake Goyle isn't Malfoy, maybe he just stayed away tonight. Maybe Malfoy figured it would be easier to just have two people on the job. It's less to keep track of.'

'Good point,' said Harry.

Any further conversation on this subject was halted when Ron and Hermione returned. They hurried over to Harry and Ginny, who stood up, but a look from Hermione told Harry enough: the common room was simply too crowded to talk about anything in great depth, and they couldn't get to Ron's room at the moment.

'McGonagall's about to make an announcement,' Ron said instead.

And indeed, as if on cue, McGonagall's voice piped into the common room.

'All students are to report to the Great Hall immediately.'

'We'll talk about this later,' Hermione muttered.

* * *

The scene in the Great Hall was no less noisy, than the one Harry had just left upstairs. Everywhere were the curious murmurs, the nervous glances, the worrying hands of the students.

It was in that moment that Harry remembered he hadn't felt any pain in his scar. Voldemort must surely have gotten his hands on the sword by now; he would be overjoyed to have it. So why hadn't Harry felt any surge in emotion?

_Voldemort's blocking you completely now. That's why. _

Harry was just starting to wonder about this when he glanced over at the large clump of Slytherins. The real Goyle--it had to be him, owing to the vacant, confused expression on his face--stood next to Crabbe, who looked slightly dazed, as though he'd been awoken in the midst of sleepwalking. Blaise and Daphne looked decidedly agitated and both seemed to use pacing to calm themselves down, occasionally snapping at a younger student to keep still. Draco Malfoy stood in a far corner, looking nervous and...

_Guilty.___

At once Harry felt his stomach clench. Did Draco know about what his father had done?

Harry glanced at Ginny, who was deep in conversation with Lizzie Towler; Ginny had been adamant all along that Draco was innocent of any and all current involvement with the Death Eaters; Ginny was convinced that Pansy's brutal murder had set Draco firmly on a course away from the Death Eaters even as he retreated further into himself. Up until that moment, Harry was prepared, however hesitantly, to accept Ginny's assessment. Nobody who had gotten up close to Ginny's power--to her acute and somewhat unnerving ability to see through a person's inner shields--would question that she would have sensed deceit on Draco as handily as Crookshanks had once sniffed out Scabbers' true nature.

But to see Draco just now, Harry suddenly felt a swirling of doubt. The look on the other boy's face was one of a suspect under interrogation. It was, in fact, a similar expression to the one Draco had worn that fateful day last summer during his father's trial.

Could Draco be involved? What if Ginny was wrong? What if Draco had fooled her, had fooled them all? Was it possible to fool an Empath? Harry had never been able to fool Ginny--he thought of all those times in their recent training sessions, how Ginny had been so easily able to penetrate his feelings, to understand him with just a simple touch of her hand on his face.

_But you wanted her to know what you were feeling. You want to communicate with her like that, and she wants that with you. You're not holding back. _

Could Draco have held back? Ginny was positive he hadn't, but she could be wrong. And now, come to think of it, Draco had been suspiciously quiet for some time now. He hadn't caused Harry or any of his closest friends a speck of trouble. Ginny had insisted it was because of the trauma of Pansy's death, but what if it was something else?

_What if _he's _the imposter?_

It seemed far-fetched, to say the least. Harry had known Draco long enough to know he wasn't much of an actor. It was this, even more than Ginny's insistence that Draco was innocent, that determined for Harry that Draco was a very unlikely suspect to be the imposter.

_And yet...___

Harry stared at Draco, willing him to look back. At last, Draco did; his grey eyes fixed on Harry for a moment before looking away quickly. Harry then noticed that Draco was shivering, but that his forehead was shiny with sweat. He looked almost as if he was about to be sick.

_Something is definitely going on with him. Even if he's not the imposter, he knows something._

Harry made a mental note to take Draco aside, forcefully if necessary, and confront him.

'Your attention, please!' a voice called. Harry blinked and looked up. He hadn't even been aware of McGonagall or the other teachers entering the room.

'The disturbance in Hogsmeade has been quelled,' said McGonagall.

Harry smirked.

_A disturbance?__ That's what they're calling an attack of rampaging giants these days?_

'At this time I would like the seventh-year prefects to please inform me whether there are any missing students from their houses,' McGonagall instructed. 'Mr. Zabini?'

Blaise swallowed.

'Everyone's here,' he said slowly, 'except...we can't account for Theodore Nott at this time.'

A swell of murmurs went up at this news; Crabbe and Goyle looked distinctly confused.

'That's the real Goyle, all right,' Ginny muttered. 'Looks like someone was just trying to explain how two plus two equals four.'

'Quiet, please,' McGonagall called. 'Miss Abbott?' she added, turning to large cluster of Hufflepuffs.

'All here,' said Hannah, in a tremulous voice.

'Mr. Goldstein?'

'Present and accounted for, Professor,' said Anthony.

'Miss Granger?'

'We're all here,' said Hermione.

'Well,' said McGonagall, 'it appears Mr. Nott has slipped off grounds. We will deal with him in due course. In the meantime, in light of this attack, I regret to inform you all that next week's Quidditch final must be postponed indefinitely.'

Harry and Ron sighed, but when Harry looked at Ron, he shrugged. It was a mark of the situation that neither of them was loudly protesting the postponement of the Cup match. Indeed, what few murmurs of protest there were, were decidedly subdued.

'Furthermore, I am ordering all students to remain indoors at all times,' said McGonagall, 'except during those times when you must go outdoors for lessons. And of course, our next Hogsmeade visit must be cancelled.'

This did bring a howl of protest from the crowd, but McGonagall raised her hand and called for silence.

'I am sorry, but such precautions are necessary for the time being,' she said. 'I have another announcement. I regret to inform you all that Professor Snape has taken ill and has been sent to St. Mungo's Hospital for treatment and recovery.'

'Snape?' Ron hissed. 'What happened?'

Harry didn't answer; for some reason his eyes automatically strayed back to Draco, whose face was slightly grey.

'In his absence, your Potions lessons will be taken by both Professor Sprout and Professor Hopkirk,' McGonagall was saying.

'Damn,' Seamus muttered. 'Was hopin' we'd get out of Potions.'

Hermione bit her lip; she looked like she wanted to snap at Seamus, but held back. Harry was immediately suspicious of Snape's 'illness' and automatically assumed that he had been injured during the giant attack. McGonagall's untruthfulness, if any, was clearly meant to keep the students from panicking further.

'At this time you will all return to your common rooms for the evening,' McGonagall was saying. 'Lunch will be sent to you. Please form queues; the Aurors and your prefects will escort you back.'

Harry saw Ron pull a nervous fifth-year--one of the Gryffindor prefects--aside, and mutter something to him. The boy nodded and he and his fellow prefects saw to the job of getting the Gryffindors queued up and moving out of the Great Hall.

Ron then sidled over to Harry.

'Blend in,' he said. 'We'll bring up the rear and then cut off to my room.'

Harry nodded, but just then McGonagall pulled Ron and Hermione aside and began speaking with them. The Headmistress glanced over at Harry and Ginny with a kind of resigned air about her, but kept speaking to Ron and Hermione in a voice too low for Harry to hear. After a few minutes she headed out of the Great Hall with Professor Hopkirk, who shot Harry a penetrating, inscrutable look before sweeping out, her strawberry hair swinging behind her.

When Ron and Hermione came back to Harry and Ginny, they both looked decidedly paler and unsettled.

'Let's go,' said Ron.

* * *

They took up their usual positions in Ron's room: Harry at the desk, Hermione and Ginny seated at the head of the bed, Ron standing and leaning against the wall, next to Hermione. Almost at once they fell to talking.

'What's up with Snape?' was the first question Harry asked. 'Ill, my arse. He must have got injured during--'

'Actually, he wasn't,' said Hermione. 'He didn't go with the other teachers into the village.'

'Why not?' said Ginny.

'Because he was guarding the sword,' said Ron.

Harry goggled at Ron. 'Snape was guarding Gryffindor's sword?'

'Yes,' said Hermione. 'But he wasn't the only one. Apparently the sword was moved around amongst the teachers. They had a kind of rotating system; McGonagall would hold it for a few days, then Snape, then Flitwick, etcetera.'

'They knew Snape would have it today, then,' said Harry. 'They attacked him and grabbed the sword and got out.'

'Made short work of it all, too,' said Ron.

'The timing of this whole thing is what's important,' said Hermione. 'This thing was planned very carefully. We learn about the giant attack, and not a minute later, Ron has his vision. Whether or not Voldemort was expecting Ron to see something, he would have known that Malfoy and Nott couldn't afford to dawdle. They'd have to get in and out really fast.'

'Which begs the question,' said Ron. 'How did they get through the fourth floor passage, get all the way down to Snape's office, attack him, steal the sword and get back upstairs in the space of ten minutes? I don't see how it's possible. The whole school was running about, there were Aurors everywhere. Unless they had an Invisibility Cloak, I don't see how they pulled it off.'

Harry mused on this for a moment, and then voiced aloud what was bothering him. 'Why go to the trouble of this big plan in the first place? Pulling off a giant attack to drag the teachers off grounds, just to give Malfoy and Nott ten whole minutes to steal the sword? That's risky. Stupidly risky. Because not only did the teachers know about this right after it happened, they now know Lucius Malfoy's behind it, and Nott as well. They'll know whom to look for. The Ministry's only going to go after Malfoy harder now.'

'Good point, Harry,' said Hermione, nodding. 'That is strange. The only logical explanation for it is that Voldemort or Malfoy took a calculated risk.'

'Why do that?' Ginny asked. 'Why not just have the imposter slip into Snape's office while he's at dinner, steal the sword, and quietly slip back out again. Nobody would have been the wiser for at least a few hours, and Malfoy could have saved himself some pain and trouble.'

'To throw us off the scent,' said Ron at once, his eyes widening. 'It's convenient for them, don't you think, if we go on assuming Malfoy's the imposter. After all, he's clever enough to pull the acting part of it off, and we know he's powerful enough to undermine McGonagall's wards.'

'There's another thing,' said Hermione fretfully. 'The only way Malfoy could have learned how to do that is if he witnessed McGonagall putting them up in the first place, or if someone else did, and reported back to him.'

'And McGonagall would never have let anyone watch her do that,' said Hermione. 'Nobody but another teacher.'

'Would she have cast a Fidelius Charm?' said Harry. 'Why not do that? That way her secret's safe, and the other teacher or teachers who know how to undo the wards can't reveal anything, right?'

'It would make sense, but then that would mean that whoever learned about what McGonagall was doing would have had to break the charm,' said Hermione. 'The only time that's happened was when Luna's mother managed to find her book, remember?'

'But the Death Eaters knew about Grimmauld Place,' said Ginny. 'They learned it from Lee, surely.'

'Not if there was a Secret-Keeper,' said Hermione. 'If Dumbledore died, the charm would have weakened and then faded but I can't imagine McGonagall letting that happen. I'm guessing the Death Eaters found out about Grimmauld Place because Lucius Malfoy already knew about it. He or Rodolphus Lestrange.'

'But why wouldn't McGonagall put a Fidelius Charm on herself when it comes to fixing the wards?' said Ron.

'She must have figured that using the Charm would do more harm than good.'

'How d'you reckon?' said Ron.

'If McGonagall were under the Fidelius Charm, and something happened to her, like…like last year…and we needed to take down the wards for some reason,' said Hermione, 'we wouldn't be able to, even if she told certain people how to do it. That's the magic of the Charm—only the Secret Keeper can reveal information in a way that's usable. Even if Snape knew how to undo every last inch of the wards, if McGonagall were under Fidelius when she told him or showed him, he couldn't pass the information on, under any circumstances.'

'Why would we want to take down the wards?' said Harry.

'If the castle were under attack,' said Ron at once. 'We'd need a way out that was guaranteed, even if the Secret Keeper got hurt or…or killed.'

'And even if she told a few other teachers,' said Hermione, 'she knew that the possibility was that the other teachers might get hurt. So she leaves a way for people to get out in the event that she or another teacher can't do it herself.'

'Risky,' said Harry. 'It takes time to undo the wards, you said so yourself, and the Death Eaters got in anyway. It would take us time to get out.'

'I agree it was risky,' said Hermione, 'and I'm sure she regrets it now.'

'Makes sense, though,' said Ron. 'If the castle were ever under siege, we'd want a way out. Another calculated risk, then.'

'But she didn't count on someone being privy to how she was building the wards. That's the only explanation for them coming down as fast as they did.'

'Somehow, somebody found out how to break down those wards,' said Harry. 'If not Lucius Malfoy directly, then somebody else.'

'The imposter,' said Ginny.

'But the imposter wasn't there during that attack,' said Harry. 'Nott's gone, so he couldn't have been posing as Nott.'

And suddenly, everything clunked into Harry's brain.

'That's why they planned the attack the way they did,' he said. 'They create a bunch of confusion, and try to make us think Malfoy's been the one getting in and out of the school. Meanwhile…'

'The imposter is still in business,' said Hermione.

'Blimey,' said Ron. 'He could still be in the castle for all we know!'

'That's how they got the sword so fast,' said Ginny. 'The imposter was the one who got into Snape's office, before the giant attack. He must have taken Snape down and grabbed the sword, and just waited for Lucius Malfoy to show up.'

'That makes sense,' said Hermione. 'Chances are the imposter just strolled upstairs, minding his own business. At some point the attack happens, people are running all over the corridors—the imposter would have blended in, and in the confusion, he could have passed the sword off to Nott.'

'Who went right to the corridor with the mirror, where Malfoy was waiting for him,' said Harry.

'And,' said Ron, 'think of this: they knew they had to move fast because of me. I could have been tipped off ages ago if someone was trying to get into Snape's office on the sly. But they make up this big attack of giants—which nobody saw coming—and do a smash and grab for the sword.'

'Exactly,' said Hermione. 'More to the point, that's also partly why the Death Eaters went for Fred and George. Not only to get their formula for that poison gas, but to create another distraction for the Seer.'

'It worked,' said Ron glumly. 'I spent a whole week focusing only on Fred and George, and then I managed to put myself out of commission for another whole week. They could have accomplished a lot in two weeks, and I wouldn't have known about it, unless I had some sort of spontaneous vision, but I don't get those very often.'

'Given that the imposter has had free reign of the school so far, he would have been able to work out the schedule of which teacher was guarding the sword and when,' said Hermione.

'Okay,' said Harry. 'So Lucius Malfoy's not the imposter, and neither is Nott. Who is it, then?'

'It could be anyone,' said Hermione, her shoulders sagging.

'Would he still be in the castle now?' said Ron.

'Possibly,' said Hermione. 'But he could have gotten out, right after our little battle with Malfoy and Nott. For all we know he watched the whole thing underneath an Invisibility Cloak, or he hid himself and waited until the coast was clear. But if he did slip out, his window of opportunity would have been small; he'd have to get out before the teachers showed up to put up new wards on the secret passages.'

'Could this person have been the one to pass along information about the old wards?' said Ron.

'I don't see how that's possible,' said Hermione, 'unless the person was…' Her eyes went wide.

'An Animagus,' said Harry.

'Wormtail?' said Ron. 'No way, McGonagall would have noticed a great ugly rat hanging around. Especially one with no hair and a silver limb. Besides, McGonagall's an Animagus herself—the first thing she'd think of is to check for that, if she came across any rats or other critters crawling about.'

Harry was just about to voice his agreement with Ron when Hermione gasped.

'Oh my god,' she whispered.

'What?' said Harry, all too aware that Hermione was having another of her strokes of brilliance.

'Of course,' said Hermione. 'It makes perfect sense. And McGonagall wouldn't have known…I swore I wouldn't mention it to anyone and I haven't…they're so much smaller and much harder to see, too…and she wouldn't have registered herself, I'm sure of it…'

'Er, Hermione?' said Ron. 'You mind telling us what you're onto?'

'Rita Skeeter,' she said.

'What?' said Harry, Ron and Ginny together.

'Rita Skeeter,' said Hermione. 'I can't believe I didn't think of it right when Luna said…' Her voice trailed off.

'When Luna said what?' Ginny prompted.

'We had that picnic here when Ron got out of hospital, remember?' said Hermione. 'And Luna made that off-hand comment about Rita not working for _The Quibbler_ anymore! What if she's found a new employer?'

'Voldemort?' said Harry. 'You actually think Rita Skeeter's working for Voldemort?'

'Hermione,' said Ron gently, 'I agree the woman's a snake, but…you don't think maybe your…absolute loathing of her isn't coloring your judgment a bit?'

'I know it's far-fetched, Ron,' said Hermione impatiently, 'but it's the only explanation that makes sense! McGonagall doesn't know about Rita being an Animagus. She's still not in the Ministry registry. She quits working for _The Quibbler _because she's not getting paid, but I don't recall seeing a Rita Skeeter byline in the _Prophet_ lately, do you?'

'Hermione…' said Harry doubtfully.

'Wait, Hermione could be right,' said Ginny slowly.

'Really?' said Harry and Ginny.

'You forget, Luna and I are in the same year, and some of the same classes,' said Ginny, smiling at them.

'I guess we do forget that, don't we?' said Ron.

'Anyway, Luna mentioned Rita to me about a month ago,' said Ginny. 'I didn't think anything of it, of course. I figured it was just Luna being Luna—you know she talks about anything and everything under the sun, and half the time I just let her go because there's no point in interrupting. Anyway, she mentioned that her dad and Rita Skeeter had had this big blow-up argument about the fact that Mr. Lovegood wasn't paying her. Rita got some residuals from when Mr. Lovegood sold Harry's interview to the _Prophet_ way back, but the residuals have long since dried up. Mr. Lovegood said he couldn't pay Rita because he couldn't afford to publish the magazine, circulate it and be able to pay for his yearly research trips to Sweden.'

'Rita lost out to the Crumple-Horned Snorkack,' said Ron dryly. 'I can see why she might be a bit fussed.'

'Well, apparently Mr. Lovegood told her she was under no obligation to keep working for him,' said Ginny. 'He told her she was always free to go back to _The Daily Prophet_, but Rita said the Prophet wouldn't have her. Apparently, ever since Fudge's disgrace and the election of Madam Bones as Minister, every story Rita's tried to submit to them has been rejected as too sensational and without evidence.'

'Poor Rita,' said Harry. 'Can't find work because the _Prophet_ no longer traffics in outright lies and smears.'

'Well,' said Ginny, 'if I were Rita I'd be plenty hacked off that I couldn't get decent work.'

'Enough to go work for Voldemort?' said Ron dubiously.

'He could have coerced her,' said Harry. 'He's been known to do that.'

'Rita's not a shrinking violet, though,' said Ron. 'I mean, yeah, it's Voldemort, but Rita's not Wormtail. She won't do something unless there's something in it for her.'

'If Voldemort didn't coerce her,' said Harry, 'then he made her a sweet offer she couldn't refuse.'

'Money?' said Ginny.

'That,' said Harry, 'and…maybe she becomes the star journalist for Voldemort if he wins and takes over the world. Yeah, I can see that.'

'It's not like Rita has any convictions,' said Ginny, 'except to help herself, and to get the story.'

'Hermione?' said Ron suddenly, and Harry and Ginny glanced at Hermione, whose lower lip was suddenly trembling.

'What's wrong?' said Harry.

'If this is true,' said Hermione fretfully, 'if Rita is working for Voldemort now…then…it's my fault.'

'What?' said Ron.

'Don't be daft,' said Harry.

'It is!' Hermione protested, her eyes filling with tears. 'Ron, you were right, I shouldn't have messed with her! I was the one who found her out and forced her to be unemployed all that time, don't you see! I ruined her career. If anyone put her on the path to working for Voldemort it was me!'

'Hermione…' Harry began.

'Hey,' said Ron, and he gripped her shoulders fiercely, 'we don't know if Rita's working for Voldemort. And it's not your fault, Hermione. You didn't force Rita to be a horrible, selfish person, did you?'

'No, but…'

'No buts,' said Ron. 'Look, what's done is done. We can tell McGonagall what we know, and spread the word that Rita's an unregistered Animagus. If she is working for Voldemort, that ought to cramp her style quite a bit, to have the whole Ministry looking for her.'

Hermione bit her lip; she still looked very upset, but she nodded.

'I have a better idea,' said Harry. 'What if we tell McGonagall about it, but convince her that it's best not to alert the Ministry too soon about Rita? That way, if she is the imposter and the spy, we can be on our guard, and maybe catch her in the act.'

'That is a good idea,' Ron agreed firmly. 'See, Hermione, we're on top of this. No real harm done.'

Ron's reassurances, and the act of pulling Hermione into his arms, seemed to soothe her, but Harry's own doubts wouldn't stop tickling him. If Rita was the imposter, Harry couldn't help but think that perhaps this might not have happened if Hermione hadn't been so keen to go after her in the first place.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

Ron let go of Hermione.

'Who is it?' he called.

'It's Professor McGonagall,' she called, and she sounded just a bit annoyed.

Ron quickly opened his door, and McGonagall strode in.

'I should have known you lot would come back here instead of doing what I told you,' she said impatiently. Hermione started to explain, but McGonagall held up a hand.

'Never mind,' she said. 'I meant to ask Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to my office. Naturally I suspected the two of you were here, given that technically Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are not supposed to be in the Head Boy's room without others present.'

She gave Ron and Hermione a significant look, and they both blushed.

'Of course not,' said Ron unconvincingly. At this, Harry could swear he saw the corners of McGonagall's mouth twitch, as though she were trying not to laugh. Harry himself felt like laughing. Discreet as Ron and Hermione tried to be about their 'extracurricular activities,' Harry was sure that McGonagall had figured out long ago that Hermione was visiting Ron alone in his room quite frequently, for reasons that had nothing to do with academics.

'All right, you lot,' said McGonagall, finally showing Ron and Hermione a bit of mercy and moving her hawk-like gaze away from them, 'come with me. There are some things I need to discuss with you.'

* * *

Harry's thoughts were buzzing about his head like an angry swarm of bees as he followed Ginny, Ron and Hermione to McGonagall's office. They entered and she conjured up comfortable chairs for them--an improvement over her usual straight, hard-backed ones--and the four of them sank gratefully into them. Hermione, however, was very alert, and Harry didn't have to guess why.

'Now,' said McGonagall, 'I have decided it would be counterproductive at this point to punish all of you for disobeying my orders and trying to go after Lucius Malfoy on your own.'

'Please, Professor--' Ron began.

'Silence, Weasley,' said McGonagall brusquely. 'You were not entirely honest with me about what happened today. A small white lie is still a lie, whatever the well-meaning intentions behind it. But given Mr. Weasley's insight, and given your attempt, we at least have somewhere with which to assess our next move.'

'Can you at least tell us about the giant attack?' Hermione asked. 'Everything happened so fast.'

McGonagall paused and pushed her glasses up her nose. 'The attack itself was an elaborate ruse,' she said at last. 'Several Death Eaters charmed themselves to look like giants. Their purpose was not to fight but, clearly, to keep us occupied long enough for Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott to steal what they had come to steal. The ruse would not have worked had we not received legitimate news from Olympe Maxime that a small band of giants was, indeed, spotted moving quickly up through the north of England several days ago. We assumed, incorrectly, that these giants were attacking Hogsmeade.'

'Death Eaters charmed themselves to look like giants?' said Hermione, unable to disguise that she was, in fact, impressed.

'Yes,' said McGonagall. 'Not all that convincingly, mind you. If anyone had taken a few seconds to just look at the so-called giants, they would have seen through the Glamours the Death Eaters used, but given that the sight of a giant typically sends the average person into a panic, it's understandable that the villagers didn't see the disguises for what they were. We only noticed because we had prolonged contact with them, if you can call several minutes in skirmishing prolonged contact.'

'Was anyone hurt?' said Hermione.

'Apart from the Potions Master, no,' said McGonagall wearily. 'They were not looking to engage us in a protracted battle. The first contingent of Death Eaters began to Disapparate within five minutes of our arrival. Several minutes later it was over. They had hardly even caused much damage to the village itself.'

'How is Professor Snape?' Hermione asked.

'Very poorly,' said McGonagall, her lips drawing into a thin line. 'He appears to be in a kind of magically-induced coma. Nothing Madam Pomfrey did could rouse him.' At this, McGonagall leveled her eyes at Harry.

'Poppy is concerned,' she said, 'that the damage done to Severus could be temporarily irreversible.'

'What does that mean?' Harry asked.

McGonagall sighed again. 'As you all know by now, Severus was...he served You-Know-Who for a time, and like all of his followers, Severus was given the Dark Mark. When we found him, the Mark was livid and infected, and he was unconscious. We're not sure, but Poppy believes Severus was poisoned, and that the point of entry for the poison was the tattoo on his arm.'

'Is he going to be all right?' Ginny asked.

'We don't know,' said McGonagall, and she looked distinctly upset by this. Harry's own feelings were uncomfortably ambivalent. He still hated Snape, of course, but it wasn't as if Harry wanted the Potions Master _dead._

Into the silence, Hermione cleared her throat, and brought forth the subject she, Harry, Ron and Ginny had just been discussing.

'Professor,' said Hermione. 'We have something to tell you...'

She related the entire theory to McGonagall, who listened with rapt attention. When Hermione mentioned Rita Skeeter's unregistered Animagus status, McGonagall looked truly horrified.

'Miss Granger,' she said angrily, 'you should have reported Miss Skeeter to the authorities at once! Why on earth would you keep such important information secret? You realize that if what you're saying is true that you have inadvertently abetted Miss Skeeter undermining my efforts to protect this school and my students.'

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Harry's heart went out to her.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

'She didn't mean it, Professor,' said Ron, leaping to Hermione's defense.

'Of course she didn't,' said McGonagall in exasperation. 'She wanted to teach that woman a lesson, I'm sure. Fine lesson it turned out to be.'

'It wasn't just that!' Ron protested. Hermione was now crying quietly in her chair, and Ron had his arm round her shoulder. Harry could only imagine what it must feel like for her to be dressed down by her favorite teacher and mentor.

'Professor, Hermione was trying to protect me,' said Harry quickly. 'That's all it was about, I swear.'

Obviously this wasn't the whole truth; Hermione had wanted to get back at Rita, and very badly. And a small part of Harry couldn't help but agree with McGonagall, but he didn't think Hermione deserved to feel any worse about the situation than she already did.

Hermione forced herself to look into McGonagall's eyes. 'I'm really sorry, Professor,' she whispered pleadingly, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

McGonagall let out a frustrated breath. 'It is often the case that the best intentions lead to the worst of consequences,' she said at last, but her tone was considerably softer, and she gave Hermione a sad, warm look. 'Miss Granger...I trust you have learned _your_ lesson. And I do thank you, all the same, for bringing this to my attention. Whether the Skeeter woman works for You-Know-Who or not, her days of spying on innocent people are effectively over.'

With that, McGonagall offered Hermione a Ginger Newt biscuit and a handkerchief, both of which Hermione accepted. She cast her eyes about the room again as she took a dainty bite of the biscuit, and leaned back against Ron.

'Professor,' said Ginny hesitantly, 'what's to be done about the sword? Harry...well, I think he needs it.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, turning his attention away from Hermione, although he kept his arm around her and held her close as she wiped her eyes. 'I keep seeing Harry with that sword, I think he needs it to kill Voldemort.'

McGonagall stiffened slightly when Ron said the name, but sat back.

'The particulars of re-obtaining Godric Gryffindor's sword are, I'm afraid, a matter for the Aurors,' she said.

'But we don't have much time,' said Harry. 'When Vol--You-Know-Who gets his hands on that sword...'

He didn't want to think about what it might mean, for Voldemort to have such a powerful weapon, a weapon that, as Ron's visions seemed to make obvious, Harry himself needed to destroy Voldemort once and for all.

'Do not panic, Potter,' said McGonagall. 'This situation is serious, yes, but we do have some time. The sword will guarantee us that.'

'How do you mean?' said Ron.

'I mean that the sword of Gryffindor has a few powerful defense mechanisms,' said McGonagall. 'It could be some time indeed before You-Know-Who can "get his hands" on it.' She looked pointedly at Harry. 'I'm sure you remember, Potter, what one of those defense mechanisms is. Dumbledore mentioned it to you back in your second year, if I'm not mistaken.'

Harry paused and forced his brain to remember.

His eyes widened. 'Only a true Gryffindor can pull it out of the Hat,' he said.

'What?' said Ron. 'A hat? The sword's in a hat?'

'Yes,' said McGonagall. 'Which, I imagine, You-Know-Who already knows, which means--'

'He'll try to kidnap one,' said Harry.

'Most likely,' said McGonagall. 'Neither he nor his associates will be able to retrieve the sword otherwise. The protection surrounding the sword was set by Gryffindor himself. Not even Salazar Slytherin was able to penetrate it. But it does mean that Gryffindors are in danger. This is why security precautions must be tightened here at the school.'

'What about the general public?' Hermione asked. 'Voldemort could find a victim who's already left the school.'

'Madam Bones is arranging a press release for tomorrow's Prophet,' said McGonagall. 'Thank goodness we have a Minister who seeks to keep the public informed. And a Seer'--she nodded warmly at Ron--'on our side who can help us just in case. And rest assured, Miss Granger, the news about the Skeeter woman will also be reported. You-Know-Who appears to be preparing--'

But at that moment, Hermione leapt up from her seat, and yanked her wand from her robes.

'What the--'

_'Transformare!'_ Hermione shrieked, and a jet of gold light burst from her wand at a bookshelf just behind McGonagall's desk. The spell burst against the shelf, causing it to tremble and a few books to tumble from it. Harry gaped at her; what was she doing?

'Miss Granger, what on earth are you doing?' McGonagall cried, leaping up from her desk chair.

'Professor, make sure the room is sealed!' Hermione yelled. _'Transformare!'_ Another jet of gold light flew from Hermione's wand, to strike at the wall just behind the book case. In the next instant, Hermione slammed shut the windows of McGonagall's office.

'Miss Granger, sit down at once--' McGonagall cried, but just then, Harry's eyes, so accustomed to looking for small, rapidly moving objects, fixed on the thing Hermione was aiming for.

It was a black beetle with very familiar markings on it.

Harry leapt up and pointed his wand at McGonagall's door, sealing it shut. McGonagall was beside herself and had pulled out her wand, aiming it at Hermione, who fired another spell at the buzzing, frantically retreating beetle. Harry's eyes followed its progress as it raced toward a nearby air vent. In so doing, the beetle buzzed right past Harry. Too late, it recognized its mistake and tried to correct, but Harry wasn't a great Seeker for nothing: with his Quidditch-honed reflexes he snatched at the beetle and caught it gently in his hand.

'Hermione, I've got her!' Harry shouted, and Hermione, about to fire another spell in his direction, lowered her wand, her hair wild, her face flushed.

'Potter, Granger!' McGonagall breathed furiously, 'I demand to know the meaning of this!'

'It's okay, Professor,' said Harry triumphantly, clutching the beetle as he felt it twitter about in his fist.

'It is most certainly not okay, Potter!' McGonagall huffed. 'The two of you had better--'

'Harry just caught the spy!' Hermione interjected triumphantly, beaming at him. Ron and Ginny were gawping at both of them.

'You mean...' Ron said.

'Professor McGonagall, say hello to Rita Skeeter,' said Harry, and he very carefully held out his hand, opening it just enough so that McGonagall could peer at the small black beetle buzzing angrily about inside.

McGonagall's face went white. 'You...good lord...she was here...what on earth...' For a moment, Harry was worried that McGonagall just might faint from the excitement, but then she took a deep breath.

'Get ready to open your fist, Potter,' she said, her voice snappish and businesslike again.

Harry nodded, and very slowly, he opened his fist.

The black beetle moved at once, but McGonagall was faster. Without a word, she fired a gold beam of light at the beetle; Harry leapt back as the beam of light hit the insect, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all watched in awe as the beetle transformed, as legs and arms and a torso and a woman's head came into view, as messy blonde curls sprung out of a skull and long, carelessly broken fingernails replaced delicate feelers.

Rita Skeeter looked up at them, her eyes blank and unseeing, her whole manner like one who has been drugged, before collapsing unceremoniously to the floor in a heap of tattered black robes.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks as ever to lina and to Buckbeaky, my wonderful team of betas.**


	45. Chapter Forty Five: The Calm Before the ...

_Chapter Forty-Five: The Calm Before the Storm_

In short order, Rita Skeeter found herself revived with a spell from McGonagall's wand, bound to a chair, and surrounded by a gentle orange glow from a spell that Harry guessed was there to prevent Rita from changing back into a beetle. McGonagall then leaned down and studied Rita intently.

For her part, Rita's muscles twitched, but her eyes were dazed and clouded. She looked to be drugged, or perhaps...

'She appears to be under Imperius,' McGonagall announced grimly. She stood upright and pointed her wand at Rita again.

_'Finite,'_ she said, and a jet of light struck Rita in the face, but Rita did not respond; her eyes remained unfocused.

McGonagall frowned. She sent a few more spells at Rita, but none of them erased the far-away, drugged look Rita wore on her face. The frown on the Headmistress's face deepened.

'If this is Imperius, it's been tricked,' she said, more to herself than to anyone else. 'I'll need help with this.'

McGonagall turned briskly to her fireplace; she scooped out a handful of Floo Powder, said 'Griselda Hopkirk's office' and then shoved her head into the green flames. It was, perhaps, the shortest communiqué by Floo Powder that Harry had ever seen; within seconds McGonagall pulled her head back into her own office.

She turned to Harry and the others. 'I want the four of you to return to Gryffindor Tower. Say nothing of this to anyone; I'd rather not broadcast that we have Miss Skeeter in custody.'

'What will happen to her?' Hermione asked.

'As Miss Skeeter appears to be under the influence of Dark Magic, I am hoping Professor Hopkirk can find a solution,' said McGonagall. 'I'd rather avoid sending Miss Skeeter to St. Mungo's; if she is being controlled by the Imperius Curse and has not been acting of her own volition, putting her in hospital might endanger her; the hospital isn't as secure as this school.'

McGonagall paused. 'No, I think Miss Skeeter must remain here for now, in the hospital wing, under Auror guard. At least we have solved the mystery of who the spy is. Yes, Miss Skeeter will be safe here, and I can always bring in a Healer if needed. Now, you lot, get upstairs, and remember, keep quiet about this.'

* * *

As it turned out, Ron did not go back to the common room. He went to his room, instead, to meditate.

'I've seen that sword tons of times already,' he said. 'I'm sure I can find it if I just try.'

'Don't hurt yourself,' said Harry.

'I won't,' said Ron firmly. 'I'll be careful.'

Meanwhile, Hermione announced she was going to her own room to go over some notes on the blood potion that Harry was taking; she mentioned in passing that she was hoping to have her formula--which allowed for a single, time-released dosage--ready in the next few weeks. Harry didn't know quite how to take this news. On the one hand, he had to admit the potion seemed to be working for him. On the other hand, the after-effects of it were so draining that he wondered if he could handle having such a long-acting dose in his system without keeling over. Fine good it would do him to pass out mid-battle with Voldemort. Hermione also mentioned making up revision timetables for the fifth and seventh years.

Harry and Ginny returned to the common room to find it about half-full with students. They seemed far less anxious now, given McGonagall's speech in the Great Hall. Neville Longbottom caught sight of them and hurried over.

'Hey,' he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. 'Where's Ron?'

'In his room,' said Harry. 'Er...studying.'

'Oh,' said Neville, and he looked slightly disappointed for a moment, but then he looked at Ginny.

'What?' Ginny asked.

'Well, I was sort of hoping to be able to tell you and Ron together, but...maybe you could pass this along,' said Neville. 'Although, maybe I shouldn't be the one to tell you. You'd probably want to hear from your parents. I don't want to do anything out of place, maybe--'

'Neville,' said Ginny gently. 'Pass what along?'

Neville flushed. 'Can we go upstairs?' he asked. 'I don't want to talk about this in here.'

Harry and Ginny both looked at him quizzically; Harry glanced about the common room to see that both Seamus and Dean were attempting to study near the fireplace.

'Okay,' said Ginny, and the three of them headed upstairs to the seventh year boys' dormitory.

Neville turned to Ginny and took a deep breath. He looked fit to burst.

'I heard from Augustus a few minutes ago,' he said. 'He actually contacted me in the dormitory fireplace. Your parents will probably be owling you soon. It's about George.'

Ginny froze, and Harry took her hand.

'What about him?' Ginny asked, her eyes fearful. Harry felt waves of tension race through her and into him.

Neville hesitated, as though trying to figure out how to relay his news.

'Please tell me,' Ginny whispered, and her eyes went shiny with tears.

'It's good news,' said Neville quickly. 'George...he's talking.'

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand in hers, and clapped her other over her mouth.

'Really?' she said, behind her hand. Her tone was both achingly hopeful and frightened.

'Yeah,' said Neville, and he began to talk very fast as Ginny stared at him. 'Well...okay, it's really just a lot of babbling right now. Not too many actual words yet. But he did manage to say "Mum" and "Lee," and a couple other things...damn, I don't remember what they were, sorry...although Augustus said the words were pretty slurry, sort of as if George had been drinking. Anyway, I know it's taking a while and all for the potion to work but Augustus thinks this is a really good sign and...well, I do, too, actually. I mean, obviously I wish it would work faster, I'm sure it's really exhausting for your mum to go to hospital every day--'

Neville's recital was cut short as Ginny gave a sob and hugged him tightly. Harry grinned as Neville's eyes widened to saucers and awkwardly hugged her back.

After a long moment Ginny let go of Neville.

'Thank you,' she said, wiping her eyes. 'Thank you so much.'

Neville blushed. 'You're welcome.'

'I mean it,' said Ginny. 'You're...you're a hero, you know? Maybe not to everyone but definitely to me and my family. Honest.'

Neville was now so red Harry thought his head might burst into flames.

'Oh, well,' said Neville, looking down at his shoes and shifting nervously on his feet, 'it was...it was, you know...er...I'm just glad it's working...'

'Thanks, Neville,' said Harry sincerely. 'I still feel stupid you got in trouble for this.'

At this, Neville looked up and grinned. 'Actually, I didn't. Well, not really.'

'What do you mean?' said Harry.

'I got an owl this morning,' said Neville, and he went from grinning to beaming. 'I got in. To the Healer program. Early acceptance.'

Harry gaped at him, his mouth turning up. 'You're kidding.'

'Nope,' said Neville, his voice full of pride. 'Well, I am on probation. I have to do some work study thing for the first term to make up for sort of breaking the law a bit--probably means I get to scrub out bedpans the Muggle way--but I got some good recommendations from people here and Healer Smethwyck, he put in a good word, too. Of course if my N.E.W.Ts stink that would make a difference, too, but…I think I'll do okay there.'

'That's brilliant, Neville,' said Harry happily, and he clapped Neville on the back. 'Congratulations!'

'Thanks,' said Neville, and he blushed again. 'I still can't really believe it. I mean, I was sure with my shite Potions marks I'd never get in. It's a miracle I was in N.E.W.T. Potions at all, now I think of it. McGonagall must have leaned on Snape or something. Anyway, I think I almost gave Gran a heart attack. I haven't had a chance to tell Luna yet, though, I guess I can do that at dinner.'

'Congratulations, Neville,' said Ginny, smiling warmly at him. 'Nobody deserves it more than you.' She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he went red again.

'Er...well,' Neville stammered. 'I just wanted you to know, about George, I mean. You'll tell Ron?'

'Yeah,' said Ginny, 'that is if Mum doesn't get us an Owl fir--'

At that moment the door burst open and Ron and Hermione came in. Their eyes were wide and they both looked a bit winded.

'Just got an owl from Mum,' said Ron, staring at Ginny. 'George is talking.'

'I know,' said Ginny, beaming, even as her eyes filled with tears again. 'Neville just told me.'

'Neville...' said Ron, and then his eyes took in Neville. Ron swallowed, and Neville kept on blushing.

'I don't know what else to say,' said Ron, his voice sounding a bit strangled. 'Just...thanks, Neville. Thanks.' He held out his hand, and Neville, still blushing, shook it quickly and firmly.

'It was nothing,' he mumbled. 'It's still early and...well...it'll probably take a lot longer for George to...the Death Eaters really...'

'I know,' said Ron, 'but still...I saw him a few weeks ago and...I didn't think he'd ever...and now he's talking, and he recognizes Mum and Dad. That's something.'

Ginny sniffed and went to Ron, and they embraced.

Ron, still holding onto Ginny, cleared his throat; his eyes were a bit red-rimmed when he looked at Neville again.

'Thanks,' Ron managed.

'You're welcome,' said Neville.

Ron and Ginny held each other for a moment; Neville looked slightly embarrassed; Hermione bit her lip and Harry felt a lump in his throat. Neville shifted on his feet and half looked like he wanted to flee, but just then Ginny broke away from Ron and said, 'Neville got into the Healer program.'

Ron cleared his throat again and grinned broadly. 'Excellent,' he said, and he, too, clapped Neville on the back. 'You deserve it, mate.'

'Thanks,' said Neville.

'Congratulations, Neville,' said Hermione, and she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.

Neville blushed some more, and after Hermione let him go, he stammered something about being hungry and hurried from the room. Harry smiled and shook his head.

* * *

Dinner was a relatively subdued affair. Harry was exhausted from the stress of the day, and sore from battling two Death Eaters, but he ate three helpings of everything all the same.

Ron muttered that he hadn't been able to get much from his latest meditation.

'I saw the Sorting Hat sitting on this table in a dark room,' he said quietly to Harry. 'What's that about, d' you reckon?'

'That's the hat the sword is in,' said Harry. 'That's all you saw?'

'Yeah,' said Ron grimly. 'I'll try again a bit later, but I definitely feel a bit rusty.'

Professors McGonagall and Hopkirk were not at dinner; Harry and the others guessed they were 'working on' Rita Skeeter. He wondered just how long it would take to lift whatever curse Rita was under. He supposed it ought to make him feel better that, by all initial impressions, Rita was indeed not working for Voldemort of her own volition, but it didn't. Who knew how long Rita had been spying on McGonagall and undermining her? Who knew what information Rita might have gathered, apart from how to break down the wards? Then there was Rita's whole ruse to begin with, which included not only hiding in her Animagus form and gathering information on McGonagall's protections for the castle and grounds, but in inserting herself into the school in the guise of a student. The more Harry thought about it, the more amazed he became, and the more confused.

Whoever had Rita under his or her control must be a powerful witch or wizard. Harry didn't fool himself that Voldemort was controlling Rita; if he really was weakened because of Harry's blood, Harry doubted he would have the strength to maintain that kind of mental control over Rita for any extended period of time.

_But...Voldemort _is_ strong enough to be able to block you from getting into his head at all these days. The only time he lets his guard down is when you're under the influence of that blood potion._

_True, but could he be strong enough to do both?__ To keep up nearly constant Occlumency and maintain the Imperius Curse to the extent that Rita did so intricate a bidding?_

_No. He can't be. Someone else must have been controlling Rita._

Harry thought of Lucius Malfoy. He seemed the obvious choice; by all accounts, Malfoy was now Voldemort's top lieutenant. Malfoy was not only leading attacks, he was planning them, and he appeared to have taken on the top leadership role amongst the Death Eaters.

Dinner ended and Harry meant to go with Ginny to Ron's room, to commiserate with him and Hermione on these issues, but upon exiting the Great Hall, they were surprised to see Andromeda Tonks standing just outside the doors, deep in conversation with none other than her daughter.

Tonks noticed Harry and the others.

'Wotcher!' she said, grinning.

'Hey, Tonks,' said Harry, smiling back.

Mrs. Tonks gave a small groan. 'You have a perfectly lovely name, Nymph--'

'Thanks, Mum, that'll do,' said Tonks, through gritted teeth. 'Hi, Ron, Hermione. Ginny.'

'Hey,' said Ron. 'Have you been here all this time?'

'If you mean was I around during the so-called giant attack, no,' said Tonks. 'I was stuck in London writing some reports. Dead boring. I only came here because Kingsley wanted me to get the details on this latest attack from Kenneth, which means I get to write another exciting report when I get back. And since my mum needed to come here, anyway...'

Ginny spoke up hesitantly, glancing at Harry. 'Er...do we have a session, Mrs. Tonks?' she asked, keeping her voice low as various students passed by, Aurors flanking them here and there.

'No,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Minerva McGonagall called me here for other business.'

'Ah, Andromeda.'

They all turned to see Professor McGonagall and Professor Hopkirk stride--or in Hopkirk's case, glide--up to Mrs. Tonks. The two professors gave only cursory glances at Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione, but otherwise were entirely focused on Mrs. Tonks.

'Minerva,' said Mrs. Tonks, in a low voice, 'I'm not sure how much help I can be if she's still under the influence.'

'We've managed to lift some of it,' said Professor Hopkirk. She, too, spoke in a low voice. 'It's a lot stronger than anything I've seen; my guess is it'll take me at least a week to break through completely.'

'We're not expecting any miracles tonight, Andromeda,' said McGonagall. 'I'm simply trying to determine whether she has at all acted of her own accord. She's not talking...well, it appears she can't at the moment...and we thought perhaps you could get through to her.'

'I see,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Well, as long as you're not expecting miracles, I won't promise any. Won't you take me to her?'

'Yes, she's right this way...'

Harry and the others watched as the three women walked away, towards McGonagall's office. They talked in soft voices, out of earshot of the patrolling Aurors.

'They're working on Rita,' Hermione muttered.

'Looks that way,' said Harry, and the four of them started back to Gryffindor Tower.

'I wonder what Mrs. Tonks wanted to talk to me about,' said Ginny, frowning. She looked at Harry. 'It can't be our sessions, they're going really well.'

'Dunno,' said Harry. 'Maybe she has some new regimen for us or something.'

They reached the turn-off for the Head Boy and Girl rooms.

'Listen,' said Ron, 'I should probably head back to my room and, you know, try again.'

'Ron,' said Hermione, her eyes looking suddenly sharp, as they always did when she got an idea, 'I know McGonagall's...busy at the moment but maybe tomorrow you should ask her to pass you something of Gryffindor's, if there's anything.'

'Good idea,' said Ron. 'I'll do that.'

'Wait,' said Harry. 'I have a better idea. Use Fawkes.'

'Fawkes?' Ron repeated.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'He's the one who brought me the hat in the Chamber.'

'I'm supposed to hold onto a bird while I'm meditating?' said Ron. 'He's not hyper like Pig, is he?'

'No bird is as hyper as Pig,' said Harry, grinning. 'Seriously, I think it's a good idea. You can even keep Fawkes in your room. I'm sure Pig wouldn't mind, he'd probably be thrilled for the company.'

Ron shrugged. 'All right.'

* * *

Getting Fawkes to Ron's room presented no more trouble than a lot of curious stares. Harry remembered that a lot of students had never seen Fawkes before; he was given Fawkes just after Christmas, and except for some hunting Fawkes did after dark, the phoenix stayed contentedly in Harry's dormitory, soaking up some of the admiration of Harry's dorm-mates and causing Hedwig the occasional fit of jealousy. Once Fawkes was happily settled in Ron's room, Harry, Hermione and Ginny left him alone to meditate. Harry only hoped Ron could find out something useful. His stomach hadn't stopped clenching since the fight with Malfoy and Nott in the fourth floor corridor; no matter how well the Ministry tried to protect the general public, Harry knew it was only a matter of time before he snatched some unwitting Gryffindor off the street in order to retrieve the sword from the Sorting Hat.

Harry and the girls stopped by Hermione's room to pick up several of her books and notes, and then headed back to the common room, to find it just less than half-full. Hermione found some chairs for them while Harry and Ginny fetched their own schoolbooks and parchment, and after a few minutes, the three of them settled down to homework, and in Harry and Hermione's case, revising for N.E.W.Ts.

After only fifteen minutes, Harry groaned. 'We don't really have to know all this stuff by heart, do we?' he asked, staring morosely at some of the Potions notes Hermione had prepared for him.

'Yes, we do,' said Hermione. 'It's all very important, especially for you, if you want to be--'

'Yeah, yeah, I know,' said Harry glumly. 'Aurors need good marks in Potions.'

Ginny smiled to herself as she scratched out an answer on her Herbology essay.

They worked steadily for the next hour, and the crowd in the common room slowly thinned out as many fellow Gryffindors retired early for the night, while others seemed to be buried in homework and revising. After another ten minutes, the portrait hole creaked open, and Ron entered the room.

'Hey,' he said, and he looked a bit tired, but very eager.

'What's up?' said Harry. 'How'd it go?'

Ron glanced over a clump of fifth years, who were all watching him. He leaned down.

'Let's talk about this in my room, okay?'

'So, what did you see?' Harry asked, after he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were settled in Ron's room. 'Was Fawkes helpful at all?'

As if hearing his name, Fawkes gave a small chirrup from his perch.

'Yes and no,' said Ron. 'You want the good news first, or the bad news? McGonagall already knows everything, I stopped by her office.'

'The bad news,' said Harry, Ginny and Hermione.

'Bad news,' said Ron, 'is I can't figure out where Voldemort or his mates are hiding, or where they're keeping the hat. The good news is, they haven't been able to get to the sword.'

'I should think not, not without a Gryffindor to--' said Hermione.

'Oh, they've got a Gryffindor,' said Ron.

'They do?' said Harry, alarmed. 'Who?'

'Wormtail,' said Ron.

'Wormtail,' said Harry. 'That's...that's stupid. Wormtail's hardly a "true" Gryffindor. Voldemort would know that. What's he playing at?'

'Maybe Voldemort figured he had nothing to lose by trying Wormtail first,' said Ron, shrugging. 'If Wormtail could get to the sword, it would save the trouble of Voldemort having to find somebody else and abduct them.'

'They've already tried to use Wormtail?' said Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Worked him over pretty bad first, though, I suppose to teach him a lesson or whatever. Stupid bastard was a right mess, crying and everything. But he couldn't get the sword to appear.'

'Well, that's good,' said Harry. 'For us, anyway. Not so good for Wormtail, not that I'm too fussed about what happens to him.'

'Yeah, well, if you're thinking Voldemort's going to do Wormtail in, think again,' said Ron.

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked.

'I saw Wormtail escape,' said Ron.

'Whoa, what?' said Harry. 'Wormtail escaped Voldemort?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'or he will. And get this: he had or will be getting help on the inside, from a Death Eater.'

Harry gawped at Ron. 'Are you serious? From whom?'

'Couldn't tell,' said Ron. 'Whoever it was had a hood and mask on, and didn't say anything, or at least, nothing that I could make out. They have, or had, Wormtail in this dark room, all chained up. Well, this Death Eater goes into the room, probably in the middle of the night--I couldn't be sure about that but it was dark out and everything looked quiet--and unchains Wormtail and just leads him out of there like it's no big deal.'

'And Wormtail just...just walked away?'

'Pretty much,' said Ron. 'I can't put a time to it, mind. I'm guessing his great escape hasn't happened yet; if it hasn't it'll probably go down in the next few days, because it didn't look like Wormtail had been in there for too long. I wasn't able to figure out where he was, or where he was going--it just looked like he was in this forest--it didn't look like our Forest--and he ran and then Apparated.'

'Why would a Death Eater help Wormtail escape?' said Ginny. 'It makes no sense, unless we had a spy of our own on the inside of Voldemort's organization.'

'If we had a spy inside that group,' said Hermione, 'surely that person would have taken Wormtail into Ministry custody.'

'It's definitely weird,' said Harry, feeling uneasy. 'I don't like this, Wormtail being out there.'

'Me, neither,' said Ron. 'I guess I'll have to keep on this. I just hope I can figure out where they are soon.'

'So do we,' said Harry.

'What about Rita?' said Hermione. 'Did you see her, Ron?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'but McGonagall wouldn't let me see what Hopkirk and Mrs. Tonks were doing. I wasn't able to learn anything from McGonagall, either, unfortunately.'

'A week,' said Harry. 'At least. That's how long Hopkirk said it would be before she could lift all the curses.'

'It would be nice to know now what information she's kept,' said Hermione.

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'but on the other hand, she might not know too much that's useful. If she wasn't acting on her own, maybe Voldemort figured it was better for her not to have too much valuable information to pass along. Rita had to get caught sometime.'

'About that,' said Hermione, looking somewhat troubled, 'I can't help but think Voldemort must have wanted her to get caught. Why else would she just happen to have been in McGonagall's office? She had plenty of time to get away, especially if she knew how to get through that magical barrier. Or she could have just stayed in her beetle form and flown out and no one would have been the wiser.'

'You think she got herself caught on purpose?' said Harry.

'Not of her own volition, no,' said Hermione, 'but it just seems a bit too convenient, don't you think, how we caught her?'

'Voldemort must have decided she wasn't useful anymore,' said Ginny, shrugging.

'Maybe,' said Hermione, 'but doesn't Voldemort usually just kill whoever isn't useful to him anymore?'

'He or Lucius Malfoy could have wiped Rita's memory,' suggested Harry.

'True,' Hermione conceded, 'but I can't help thinking it's a bit strange that Voldemort would leave behind his spy, even if she did have her memory wiped. Memory Charms can be undone, even if it takes a while.'

'Where are you going with this, Hermione?' Ron asked.

'I just wonder if Voldemort didn't leave Rita behind on purpose to make us waste a bunch of time working on her,' said Hermione. 'Like you said, she might not know anything useful beyond what's she given to Voldemort. And we caught her much too easily.'

'You could be right,' Harry admitted. 'It is a bit weird, Voldemort leaving Rita alive if she's no longer useful.'

'So Rita is another distraction, then?' said Ron.

'Possibly,' said Hermione. 'But whether she is or not, Voldemort doesn't need a spy inside Hogwarts anymore, does he? He's already got the sword. All he needs now is a Gryffindor to get it, and he doesn't have to come to Hogwarts to find one. Even if the Ministry puts the public on the alert, it's only a matter of time before someone gets taken.'

The four of them talked a bit more about Rita, Wormtail and Voldemort's plans, but couldn't seem to make any headway. It would come down to Ron's meditations, more likely than not, to give them any further insights.

Harry and Ginny said goodnight to Ron and Hermione and started back to the common room; Aurors were moving through the corridors, looking serious and focused, but they gave only cursory nods to Harry and Ginny as they passed. Harry wondered that they weren't insisting on escorting him and Ginny back to Gryffindor, but then he guessed that the Aurors must have decided it was better to remain at their posts. Given how many Aurors there were, Harry didn't think escorts were even necessary. It wasn't terribly late yet, either, which meant older students were still allowed to walk through the corridors without getting into trouble.

As they turned the corner to the Fat Lady's portrait, Ginny suddenly halted in front of Harry; not paying attention, Harry walked into Ginny's back and she stumbled slightly.

'What…' Harry began, but then he saw the reason for Ginny's abrupt halt.

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor just to the left of the Fat Lady's portrait. He looked terrible: his normally sleek hair was disheveled and in need of a trim; his face was pale as chalk; his lips were chapped and there were deep bruises under his blood-shot eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

'Draco?' said Ginny, sounding wary.

He looked up at Ginny and in that moment, Harry wondered whether the Slytherin might break down in tears. Draco stood up shakily.

'Ginny…' he croaked. 'Can I…I need to talk to you.'

Ginny glanced at Harry, who immediately felt alarm bells ring in his head.

'Right now?' he said.

Draco gave Harry what might have passed for a nasty look, had he not looked so exhausted and woebegone.

'It doesn't concern you, Potter,' he said.

'If it concerns Ginny, it concerns me,' said Harry.

'Harry,' said Ginny, giving him a warning look. Then she looked at Draco. 'What's this about, Draco?'

'I don't want him to know--'

'Tough,' said Ginny. 'I'm really tired, Draco, and I'm not sure if I fancy getting into anything with you tonight. Whatever you have to say, say it here.'

Draco's grey eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt, defensiveness and anger, but when he spoke, his voice shook, and his ashen face flushed.

'I…I'm not sleeping, I keep seeing…her,' he finally said, looking partly appalled that he had to admit anything in front of Harry.

'I thought Madam Pomfrey had given you some medications,' said Ginny.

'She did,' said Draco, keeping his eyes fixed on Ginny. 'I stopped taking them, I got tired of feeling out of it all the time.'

'Draco, I don't know what you expect me to do…'

Draco made a choked noise in his throat and took two steps toward Ginny. Harry started to move closer to Ginny as well, but Ginny held up a hand, and Harry backed off, snaking his hand inside his robes to clutch his wand.

'Help me,' Draco said, holding out his hands. He was pleading, and he looked humiliated and desperate at the same time. Harry was torn between sympathy and disgust.

'I can't,' said Ginny. 'Mrs. Tonks won't let--'

'She will if you agree,' said Draco, and his eyes took on a slightly feverish look as he implored Ginny.

'How do you know?' said Ginny, folding her arms across her chest.

'She's my aunt,' said Draco feebly.

'You hate her,' said Ginny.

'She's my aunt,' Draco repeated. 'She might not like me but I know she wouldn't want me to…to…I keep seeing her, Ginny. I have nightmares every fucking night about getting that bloody shawl…they killed her…I can't…'

He swore under his breath, looking disgusted with himself.

'I wouldn't be here if…you think I want to be here, begging you like some fucking loser…' He glared daggers at Harry. 'I'm sure you're just loving this, aren't you, Potter?' he added savagely. 'Look how pathetic Malfoy is, can't keep his shit together, has to go crying to a girl to make it all stop…'

'I'm not enjoying this,' said Harry, shaking his head. Draco snorted in disbelief.

'Draco,' said Ginny, trying to defuse the situation, 'why can't you just talk with Mrs. Tonks about it? She _is_ your aunt. Surely she can help you.'

'She can't,' said Draco, shaking his head. 'She doesn't know…you're the one who…'

'Draco, I'm really busy right now and--'

'Oh, come on!' Draco shouted, advancing on Ginny. 'Look at me, dammit! I'm humiliating myself here, the least you could do is--'

'Back off, Malfoy,' Harry warned, and he put a hand on Draco's forearm.

'Fuck you, Potter,' Draco bit out, shaking off Harry's hand.

'Stop it,' Ginny hissed, glancing nervously down the corridor at an Auror who was watching them.

'Everything all right?' the Auror called.

'Fine, we're just talking,' Ginny called back.

The Auror looked dubious, but after a moment he nodded. 'Fine, but you need to get inside your common rooms shortly, all right? Curfew's in fifteen.'

'Right,' Harry said, 'thanks.'

The Auror gave them all one last penetrating look before resuming his patrol, moving round the corner and out of sight.

Draco leveled a hurt, furious gaze at Ginny. 'Fine,' he said. 'I'm so sorry to have bothered you, Weasley. I thought maybe, being an Empath and all, you had a bit of compassion, but since you're too busy…'

'Draco, come on…' Ginny said, trying to keep her voice even. 'I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just…I've got to work with…with other people…'

'With whom, your boyfriend?' snapped Draco, throwing another hateful look at Harry.

Harry tensed; Draco shouldn't know about Harry and Ginny working together, but then again, what else was the Slytherin to think? He and everyone else had some idea by now that Harry was the one Voldemort was after first.

'Never mind,' said Ginny. 'I just…I can't…'

'Save it,' said Draco. 'I'm sorry I even came here. I hope the both of you have a good laugh over this. I'm out of here.'

'Draco…'

But Draco pushed past Harry and Ginny and began to stalk down the stairs.

Ginny bit her lip and watched him go, shaking her head.

* * *

They returned to the common room in silence; Harry could sense that Ginny was deeply troubled about Draco, and part of him couldn't help but be irritated by this. He knew it wasn't fair: Ginny was an Empath, she felt emotions more strongly than most people and she couldn't change the fact that she felt sorry for Draco. And yet Harry hated the way Draco always seemed to be hovering around them, trying to have a go at Ginny in one way or another. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that the scene of just a few minutes earlier was Draco attempting to manipulate Ginny into helping him, by playing on her gifts.

They sat wearily down onto the sofa in front of the fire; the common room was blessedly empty for the moment. Harry wanted to say something to break the uncomfortable silence, but there was a tension in Ginny that held him back. She was wrestling with something inside herself; he knew exactly what it was, and he forced himself to keep calm.

'He needs help,' she said finally. 'I know he was...he was trying to guilt me into helping him, but...he needs it.'

Harry fought back a frustrated sigh. Instead he took a deep, quiet breath and said carefully, 'Ginny, have you ever thought...maybe you can't help him?'

She looked at him tiredly. 'All the time,' she said. 'Part of me knows I can't.'

'But the other part...'

'Hates to just write him off,' she said.

'He hasn't done anything to deserve your help,' said Harry, keeping his voice even.

'He doesn't deserve a lot of things,' said Ginny.

'Ginny, he still wants you,' said Harry, still forcing his voice to remain even and smooth. 'I saw how he looked at you just now. Maybe he does want your help but that's not all of it; he wants an excuse to get close to you again.'

'I know,' she said, pressing her lips together. She sighed. 'This would be a lot easier if I didn't have...this.' She held up her hands, and Harry knew she was talking about her Empath powers.

Harry said nothing; she seemed to want to get things off her chest, and he knew the best thing was to just let her.

'Did you know,' she said, 'that fifteen percent of all Empaths go mad?'

Harry grimaced. 'No,' he said.

'No,' said Ginny. 'You wouldn't find any references to that in _Hogwarts, a History_, and Empaths never like to talk about it. Do you know why an Empath would go mad?'

'Because...you feel things more intensely,' said Harry, 'and having to deal with other people's emotions on that level, all the time...'

'Exactly,' said Ginny. 'Mrs. Tonks says it takes years for an Empath to learn how to tune out other people's feelings, but by that time, a lot of them have already lost their minds because of the strain.'

'That won't be you,' said Harry, sensing her apprehension. 'You're too strong for that.'

'Sometimes I think I am,' said Ginny, 'and other times...Harry, I know I shouldn't care about this at all, but...I think I should talk to Draco, at least one more time.'

Harry knew he should have expected this, but even so, hearing her say it struck him in the chest like a blow. He let out a breath and sat back against the sofa.

'I'm sorry,' she said quickly. 'I know you hate it...'

'Yeah, I do,' he said, unwilling to lie to her.

'I just feel like I have to do this,' she said. 'At least once.'

Harry let out another frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. 'Ginny,' he said, struggling not to get angry, 'what if by talking to him, all you're doing is keeping his hopes up?'

'He knows not to have any hope where I'm concerned,' said Ginny, a bit sharply.

'Logically, yes,' said Harry, easing his tone somewhat. 'He's seen us together, you've told him about us in no uncertain terms. Logically he should accept that.'

'But?'

'Logic doesn't matter much when you're in love with someone,' said Harry.

'I know, but...'

'Ginny, just let me finish,' said Harry. 'The last thing I'd ever want to admit is having something in common with Draco Malfoy but we do have something in common. A few things, actually. We're both in love with you, and it wasn't all that long ago that I knew how it felt to be in love with someone who didn't love me back.'

'You mean Susan,' said Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Those first few months after she dumped me, I knew it was over, I knew it, and yet there was still this ridiculous, illogical part of myself that wouldn't let go, that kept hoping against everything I knew that she'd come back. And maybe, back then, if she had given me any sign that she wanted to come back, I would have jumped at the chance. Back then I would have let her break my heart a dozen times over if it just meant a little more time with her.'

'But you moved on from her,' said Ginny.

'Of course I did,' said Harry, taking her face in his hands to emphasize his point. 'I'm with you now, and I love you, and I don't want anyone but you. What I had with Susan was important but it's past. But...look, Gin, you said it yourself: I'm stronger than Malfoy is. We've both had bad shit happen to us and I've come out of it, well, reasonably sane, anyway, because I had friends. I had you and Ron and Hermione, I had Susan last year, I always had people helping me. Malfoy has nobody anymore, remember? That's what you said.'

'It's true,' Ginny whispered.

'So he's messed up, Ginny,' said Harry, 'he's really messed up and you're the only person left for him. And he wants you really badly, and I don't like it. I'm not jealous, and I trust you, but I don't like the way he looks at you. I don't like that he's trying to manipulate your feelings.'

'I know he is, Harry--'

'Ginny,' Harry said desperately, 'what if by helping him you're just making it worse?'

Ginny looked at Harry sadly; her eyes were tired and filmed with tears. 'I know what you mean, Harry,' she said. 'I just...why does he have to hover around all the time? Why can't he just leave me...leave us alone? I don't want to feel sorry for him, but I do. I didn't even see Pansy get murdered, but I can only imagine... She was his only friend, and however fucked up their relationship was...it was all he had.'

'Ginny,' Harry said, clutching her hands in his, 'he's never going to let go of you if he thinks you'll be there to pick him up.'

'I know,' she said tearfully. 'I know. Why does it have to bother me so much, then?'

He started to answer, but she waved her hand at him. 'Don't answer that,' she said, sniffing bitterly. 'Rhetorical question.'

She wiped her eyes and looked down at their joined hands; her pain and confusion flooded into him, and he fought to reassure her.

'Maybe this sounds really, I dunno, corny or something,' he said awkwardly, 'but...I love that I can feel what you're feeling.'

She smirked at him. 'Even when it hurts?'

'Even then,' Harry said, and he blushed slightly. 'I've never been closer to anyone in my life than you, Gin. I'd do anything to make the bad part of this easier for you but...I'd never trade being close with you, like this.'

She reached up and brushed his fringe back from his forehead, tracing her fingertip along his scar.

'Blessing and curse,' she said. 'Your scar, my Empathy...'

'Something like that,' said Harry. 'Maybe...maybe that's what Dumbledore meant. That we have to take the bad with the good, so we don't take the good for granted. Or something.'

'That sounds positively philosophical, Harry Potter,' said Ginny.

Harry blushed again. 'I come up with good stuff every now and then,' he said.

'More often than not, you mean,' said Ginny, and she smiled at him. 'Thanks for that.'

'Anytime,' said Harry, his eyes locked on hers. 'Look, Ginny, if you still want to try and help Malfoy--'

'I don't want to talk about him anymore,' said Ginny, and she moved closer to him. 'Or anything else.' She kissed him.

The feel of her lips on his made him ache from the inside out, in the kind of longing way he often felt when they were alone like this. The kiss deepened and he pulled her closer, onto his lap. She wriggled slightly and he groaned at the friction and kissed her harder, his hands tangling in her luxuriant hair, before moving his mouth to the tender flesh of her throat.

They fell back onto the sofa, kissing heatedly, their hands exploring over clothing at first, then moving beneath. Her flesh was hot and supple.

'You feel so good,' he muttered, before kissing her again. She moaned softly as his hands caressed her breasts, and then she shifted beneath him, so that he sank between her thighs.

The heat of her was almost unbearable; without realizing he was doing it, Harry pressed against her, his own arousal straining against his clothes. He groaned again she moved with him, and suddenly it was too much to take, he had to stop, or else be inside her right then and there.

'Ginny...' he gasped, lifting his mouth from hers.

Ginny was panting and flushed and her eyes were dazed from kissing, her lips pink and swollen.

'What?' she whispered.

'We have to...' he murmured, but then she pulled him down for another kiss, and he forgot about thinking.

His fingers flew to her school tie and he loosened it and then pulled it over her head; then he found the buttons of her blouse. She sighed against his lips as he undid the first button, the second...

Just then the portrait hole creaked open. Harry flung himself back off Ginny and sat back, trying to nonchalantly smooth his hair. Ginny sat up quickly and was just crossing her legs primly at the knee and patting her hair as Neville came into the room.

'Oh,' he said, sounding startled. Harry looked up at him and fought to look casual, but the flush starting on his neck crept up to his face. He had just realized that his shirt was partly unbuttoned. Neville blushed as well and pointedly avoided looking at Ginny, who was covering her mouth with her hand.

'S-sorry,' said Neville, looking down at the floor.

'What for?' said Harry, shrugging and smiling with embarrassment.

'Hi, Neville,' said Ginny, her silent giggles subsided. She smiled warmly at him. 'Where were you? It's after curfew.' She paused and then shook her head, looking slightly appalled. 'I can't believe I just said that, I sound like my mother.'

'It's okay,' said Neville, and Harry saw that the other boy was still blushing quite spectacularly; Harry also noticed that Neville looked rather a bit disheveled himself.

'I was just, er, with Luna,' Neville mumbled. 'Lost track of time.'

There was an awkward silence, and Neville finally looked at Ginny and flushed again.

'I'll just turn in,' he said quickly, and he hurried up the boys' staircase.

After he'd gone, Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and started laughing.

'I guess Luna kept him busy,' Ginny giggled.

'I guess so,' said Harry, and he stopped laughing and brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes. 'We were sort of...busy, too, before he came in.'

Ginny's eyes softened. 'Yeah, we were.' Harry took the look on her face as a sign to lean in and kiss her, so he did, but she stopped him by placing a hand on his chest.

'Harry...' she said slowly, and he felt nervousness pour off her.

'I'm sorry,' he said at once. 'Was I...did I...maybe...we don't have to, you know, anymore...if you don't want to...we can always go to bed...I mean, you and I could go to bed...separately...by ourselves...'

She bit her lip. 'Actually, I'm not really tired,' she said. 'I was just thinking...maybe we could...be alone some more.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and he grinned. 'Good.' He started to lean in, but she stopped him again.

'I mean, really alone,' said Ginny huskily, and the look she gave him was both shy and maddeningly sexy. Harry's heart caught in his throat.

'You...you mean...' he managed.

She blushed and nodded quickly.

'Now?' he asked hopefully.

Again, she nodded; she suddenly seemed incapable of talking. She looked terribly nervous, Harry could sense her apprehension, but something stronger overpowered that, and his pulse raced when he felt it, too.

_Stay calm, Potter, you pervert. Be sure. Make certain she's sure._

'Are you sure?' he asked.

Ginny found her voice. 'Yes,' she said.

Harry grinned. 'Brilliant,' he said, unable to hide his eagerness. She rolled her eyes affectionately at him just as something occurred to him.

'But, er, where?' said Harry. 'I mean, there's...my room but that's not exactly--'

'No,' said Ginny. 'I...I know of a place, actually.'

'Not the Astronomy Tower,' said Harry at once.

_Definitely not there!_

'No,' said Ginny.

'The Room of Requirement?'

'Too obvious,' she said.

'Where?' he asked, aware that he was practically ready to go bounding about the room with glee.

Ginny giggled, and then she leaned in, trembling slightly, and kissed him. 'Fetch your cloak and your map and I'll show you.'

* * *

By the time they reached the room Ginny was referring to, both were out of breath. They climbed to the South Tower, a part of the castle Harry had never bothered exploring.

Ginny lead them into a corridor at the top of the tower; it was lined with bookcases. She pulled her wand from her robes and lit it, scanning the titles, until she found what she was looking for; giving the book a little tap with her wand, Harry watched as the book shelf slid neatly aside, revealing a small door behind it.

They crept through the door and Ginny shut it behind them; Harry heard the bookcase slide back into position behind it before pulling the Cloak off them.

The room they were in was large, but rather crowded with old furniture, books and crates.

'It's just a storage space,' said Ginny. 'Nobody ever comes up here.'

Harry nodded, but he noticed that for a room that nobody ever seemed to use, it was surprisingly free of dust and grime. Did the house elves keep even unused rooms spotless?

'How'd you find it?' he asked her.

'I didn't,' she said. 'Fred and George did. They used to come up here when they were younger and work on inventing joke stuff.' She smiled. 'I think Fred had his first kiss up here, actually.'

Harry smiled. 'And they told you about it?'

At this, Ginny blushed. 'Yeah,' she said, and she looked down at her shoes and began to twirl a lock of hair round her finger. 'It's a long story, but...I used to come up here a lot when I was younger, after...Riddle. I felt safer here than anywhere else. I guess Fred and George kind of gave me this room. I know it's not the most romantic looking place...'

'It's fine,' said Harry, taking her hands. She was trembling. 'It's better than fine,' he added. 'But...maybe I could...'

He let go of her hands and extracted his wand, and with a small wave, conjured dozens of candles. The golden flickering light caught the lights in her hair.

'Better,' she said, and she smiled, and then with a wave of her wand, she conjured up lots of soft, velvety cushions in the far corner of the room, beneath a boarded-up window.

They looked at each other for a long moment; it was as if each was waiting for the other to make the first move. And then something about the whole situation struck Harry as rather funny. They were both nervous, he realized, and he couldn't help but laugh. She laughed, too, and her brown eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

'Um...' she said.

'We don't have to,' he said.

'I want to,' she insisted. 'Honest.' She took his hands in hers.

'Okay,' said Harry, which seemed like a very dumb thing to say, but her eyes had the effect of making him forget about thinking. That, and her plump lips, which she had just wetted with a sweep of her tongue. That single gesture set a fire in Harry's body, and with a barely suppressed whimper, he crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her hungrily.

Ginny responded at once, parting her lips and sliding her tongue against his, and suddenly they were stumbling towards the cushions as a kind of frenzy overtook them.

Harry knew he should slow down. This was their first time, after all. She was practically a virgin; her one time with Dean was ages ago. He knew it was only proper for him to satisfy her first, given that the act of coupling would almost certainly hurt her.

But Ginny seemed to have other ideas. Indeed, she didn't seem to want him to go slow. They tumbled onto the cushions in a heap of limbs and panting and desperate kisses, and her small hands pulled at his robes, his school tie, his shirt. Harry pulled his mouth away from hers to breathe and was fully prepared to tell her he wanted to go slower, to draw out this experience, to savor it as it should be, but the pull of the Empath power was so strong it overwhelmed him. To be connected to Ginny completely, in body and mind and soul...and then he felt her fingertips brush across the front of his trousers and every thought in his mind fused to one all-encompassing need: to be inside her, now.

It was only another minute before their clothes were off completely. His glasses were somewhere; he never remembered taking them off. He saw the blue glow of a Contraceptive Charm surround their bodies, but he couldn't recall who had set it. He gave himself all of two seconds to admire her nakedness before she pulled him close, and he groaned again when she seemed to wrap her whole body around his. He was so close...

She tilted her hips up and he took the invitation, not trying to be gentle, unable to be gentle. She cried out, half in pain, and he felt her pain as his own as he stretched and filled her. The feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced. Pleasure so intense he wondered if he might die and not notice. Pain so palpable he winced and felt tears sting his eyes.

'I'm sorry,' he managed, hating himself for being so rough, hating himself even more when he saw tears streaming out of Ginny's beautiful eyes.

'It's okay,' she said. Her hands gripped his shoulders and then he sensed that she felt everything, too. The pain, but the pleasure, too, blinding pleasure. Nothing had ever been so _much._ He needed to quench it before his body burned up. Before both of them burned up.

'I have to move,' he gasped.

'It's okay,' Ginny whispered again, smiling at him, and he kissed away her tears.

'I love you,' he whispered, and he began to move inside her. She moved with him and he held her hands in his, pressing them into the cushions, and their eyes held each other as he moved deeper into her, harder, faster...

It was too much, too fast. The orgasm caught them both by surprise; she gasped and closed her eyes but he watched her, and it was that, as much as the way she felt, that sent him tumbling, and for a few seconds, as Harry's whole body shuddered against hers, he wondered if in fact he _had_ died.

_If I'm dead, that's not a bad way to go out..._

Ginny giggled beneath him; she must have sensed what he felt in that moment, and suddenly Harry found himself laughing, too. It wasn't the slow, romantic, sweet first time with Ginny he had envisioned in his dreams; it wasn't even close.

'I'm sorry,' he said, lifting his head from the crook of her shoulder and looking into her eyes. 'I didn't mean for it to be so fast. I just...something happened...'

'I know,' said Ginny, smiling. 'It wasn't too fast. It was perfect.'

The look in her eyes, the soft, satisfied warmth of her emotions told him she was being honest with him. And he knew she was right after all. It had been perfect, because it was them, together, in every sense of the word.

* * *

They tried again a little later, and this time it was slow, sweet, and revelatory. Just as perfect, really, as it had been the first time.

Harry would have liked nothing better to spend the whole night with Ginny wrapped around him, but they both knew they had to get back to the dormitory. It was nearing dawn and they couldn't afford to be caught out of bed, and out of bounds.

The trip back to the common room was a silent, relatively slow one, given that they were under the Cloak. Neither of them could stop smiling. Harry was exhausted, but giddy, too. It didn't matter that night that there was a war going on. All that seemed to matter was what they had shared.

Once inside the common room, Harry pulled the Cloak away, and Ginny looked at him shyly, but with a smile of wonder on her face.

'Are you okay?' he asked, taking her hands in his.

'I'm fine,' she said. 'Better than fine. I'm tired but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep.'

'I'll definitely sleep,' said Harry, grinning.

'Typical boy,' said Ginny, shaking her head.

'I'll dream about you, though,' he said, shrugging and blushing slightly.

'Good,' she said, and she kissed him softly before heading to the girl's staircase. She was halfway up when Harry called out to her.

'What?' she asked.

'Tonight,' said Harry. 'It was...it was the best night I've ever had.'

She regarded him with soft eyes. 'Me, too,' she said, and she smiled one last smile before disappearing upstairs.

Harry watched her go, and then dragged himself upstairs, a smile still playing about his lips. He entered the dormitory to the snores of the other boys, and crawled into bed without changing into pyjamas. He fell asleep at once, visions of Ginny's brown eyes dancing in his head.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks always to lina and to Buckbeaky for seeing me through this story. The storage room Harry and Ginny make love in was inspired by a similar room in _Rising from Ashes_ by Arabella and JediB.**

**Next up...Ron's POV. Rita is interrogated...Ginny agrees to help Draco one last time...an unexpected visitor shows up at the castle...and something is stirring in the ****Forest****...__**


	46. Chapter Forty Six: It Begins

Chapter Forty Six: It Begins 

There was something about Hermione being naked, Ron thought, that was more than merely sexy. It was in those moments that he saw the real her, the girl without the prim and proper Head Girl demeanor, the one who laughed and smiled softly and said occasionally outrageous things that she would never say to anyone else.

He watched as she stood by his bed, smiling cheekily at him as she slid her knickers down and stepped out of them.

_Bloody hell.__ Naked Hermione. More than sexy._

Her cheeks went a little pink as he ran his eyes up and down.

'You're gorgeous,' Ron said raptly. She flushed prettily and bit her lip. Ron groaned. The biting lip thing drove him crazy.

'Get in here,' he rasped, 'unless you want me to attack you where you stand.'

She giggled and climbed into bed next to him. He pulled her close and kissed her slowly.

'Mmm,' Hermione murmured, as Ron held her against him and ran his fingers up the bare skin of her back. Her lips moved to his neck.

'I love it when you do that,' Ron whispered.

'Do what?' she asked, lifting her head and looking in his eyes.

'Purr like that,' said Ron. 'It's really sexy.'

Hermione blushed. 'I don't purr,' she said primly. 'I just...sigh contentedly.'

Ron rolled his eyes at her. 'Whatever,' he said, kissing the tip of her nose. 'It's sexy.' He kissed her lips, and nuzzled her neck. 'You're sexy...you smell good...' He rolled her over onto her back and tickled her sides a little.

'Ron!' said Hermione, giggling.

'I love that, too,' said Ron, grinning wickedly. 'When I tickle you and you arch your back. Very cool.'

Hermione snorted and smiled. 'You are _such_ a teenage male.'

'Well spotted,' said Ron, running a palm over her breast, pausing there to caress her. 'You're so soft...' he whispered, kissing her. 'Everywhere,' he added, kissing her again. 'Soft and brilliant,' he murmured, still kissing her, moving his hand to her other breast. 'Can't get enough...'

They kissed slowly for a while before Ron lowered his mouth to her throat, her collarbones, his hands sliding over her flesh...

Hermione moaned as Ron's mouth moved lower, following the path of his hands. Things had been tense between them ever since he'd made up his mind to apply to the Auror training program. They'd been back and forth over it, Ron unable to tell Hermione what she wanted to hear, Hermione never fully able to hide her fears for his safety.

But now...it seemed so stupid, this tension, not when things were about to go to hell around them. They had only these precious moments of peace, and Ron didn't intend to waste them.

He waited for a moment as she did a Contraceptive Charm, and then he slid inside the welcoming warmth of her body and knew he was where he belonged, and that she belonged to him. They made love slowly, and Ron marveled that something so familiar could still be so exciting and perfect, that he still had to fight for control over his own body in order to satisfy hers first.

They rolled over and she was above him, her hair like a wild halo. She leaned down and kissed him.

'Ron...' she whispered, moving with him. 'Ron...'

His name...when she murmured it like that, in his ear, as her warmth surrounded him...his boring, ordinary name sounded almost beautiful. She let out a soft moan and he felt her tremble against him, felt the softness of her body as she collapsed over him.

'I love you...' he gasped, as he fell apart inside her; she clutched him to her tightly as he shuddered beneath her.

The silence was punctuated by their ragged breathing as she slowly rolled off him and curled up against him. He took her small hand in his, interlacing their fingers, and for a while, they were quiet, and Ron floated in that half-asleep, half-awake state of post-orgasmic bliss. He was eventually brought out of it when Hermione spoke.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured.

'For what?' he asked, kissing her fingertips.

She lifted herself up onto her elbow. 'I haven't been as supportive as I should be,' she said. 'About...you know, the Auror thing--'

'Hermione, we don't have to talk about this now,' Ron said.

'Just let me finish,' she said, putting a finger to his lips. 'I'm still afraid, Ron. I'll always be afraid. But...I meant what I said before. You'll be a great Auror.'

Ron blushed. 'Maybe,' he mumbled. 'If I get into a program. And even if I do, I'll still have N.E.W.Ts; I could be put on probation--'

'You'll get in,' said Hermione. 'And you'll do fine on the exams. I'm really proud of you.' Her brown eyes filled with tears.

He felt a lump in his throat, and loved her more than he thought possible in that moment.

'Thanks,' he said thickly, and he brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. 'Hermione, I know I can't...' He stopped. No, he couldn't say that out loud.

_I can't promise you I won't get hurt or even killed._

It was a lie he couldn't tell, would never be able to tell, and one she wouldn't believe anyway.

Instead he said, 'I'll always fight like hell to get back to you.'

She pressed her lips together for a moment, holding back her tears, but then he pulled her into his embrace and let her cry quietly. He knew they weren't tears of anguish, but of the sad acceptance that this was the way of the world now. That war was around them and it would get worse before it got better. He felt a tear slide out of his right eye and held her more tightly. They clung to each other until they fell asleep.

* * *

Ron was flying.

He soared over the trees, with the wind in his hair, and the inky black sky above him was lit with stars and a nearly full moon. He swooped down towards the Quidditch pitch, and then around the goal hoops, his eyes casting towards the Forbidden Forest.

_Odd,_ he thought. _Those lights in the distance.__ Like stars that fell out of the sky..._

Indeed, there were faraway lights sparkling through the thick trees, golden glints that reminded Ron of the fairies that Professor Flitwick decorated the Hogwarts Christmas trees with.

Then Ron heard a sound, a distant rumbling sound. A thunderstorm, perhaps? No, that wasn't it. Ron watched the dancing lights in the distance, and was suddenly overcome with the need to go inside. Whatever was out there didn't concern him--how he knew this, he wasn't sure, but what did concern him was in the castle.

He flew hard toward the castle and landed just in front of the main stairs leading inside. Just then Hagrid came barreling down the stairs.

'Ron!' he called. 'Good, yer 'ere. I'm jus' headin' to the Fores', got to help with somethin'.'

'The Forest?' Ron repeated. 'Hagrid, I don't think you should--'

'Don' worry, Ron, it'll be okay!' said Hagrid, looking almost cheerful as he lumbered--surprisingly fast for a man his size--towards the trees.

Ron watched him go for a moment, and felt the apprehension in his chest ease slightly. He didn't pretend to ever fully know what Hagrid was thinking when he got into such moods, but there was something about the half-giant's optimism that set Ron's heart at ease, just a bit.

He turned to go up the stairs, and stopped in his tracks.

Rita Skeeter was standing in front of the doors. Her hair was tangled and blowing about her face; her eyes were vacantly staring past him, but as he cautiously climbed the stairs and came level with her, her eyes suddenly snapped to him and she looked him square in the face.

'It's not what you think,' she said, in a clear voice.

'What do you mean?' Ron asked, but Rita simply closed her eyes and began to mutter to herself. Ron took two steps towards her and she suddenly vanished with a loud CRACK!

_That's impossible,_ Ron thought, _she can't Apparate here._ Then Ron heard that rumbling in the forest grow closer, and he decided perhaps it was time to go indoors; he flung open the doors to the castle and headed inside...

...and found himself in a cold, damp room with no windows. A single stool was placed in the center of the room, and the Sorting Hat was perched upon it, lying on its side.

Ron started toward the hat, but found that his feet seemed to be stuck to the floor. Why couldn't he move?

He struggled against whatever it was holding his feet fast to the ground; he waved his wand to do an Unsticking Charm, but to no avail. Then he heard a high-pitched hiss and looked up sharply.

A small, robed figure was standing before the hat. Ron strained to see the person's face, but it was covered by a hood and in shadow. The figure stretched out a gloved hand to the hat.

Ron struggled forward, but he couldn't move, and suddenly it wasn't just his feet that weren't working. It was as if he'd been hit with a Leg Locker Curse. There was another hiss and his eyes widened to see a huge snake menacingly circling the small, robed figure.

Ron looked up again and saw a golden light begin to glow about the hat.

'Yes...'

A sharp, high-pitched voice was coming from the far corner of the room. Ron turned to see another robed figure, this one tall and thin; he was mostly in shadow, but his eyes glowed like red slits from beneath his hood. Ron felt his heart begin to pound. He had to stop this...why couldn't he move?

'Take it,' Voldemort hissed, to the robed figure who stood in front of the hat, which was starting to glow brighter. The small person gave a soft whimper and hesitated, but then Voldemort lifted a skeletal hand and clenched his fist. The small person gave a cry of pain that turned into a moan as Voldemort tightened his fingers.

'Take it!' he commanded, and the robed figure reached out his gloved hand again.

'Stop!' Ron cried, but the robed figure didn't hear him. Ron watched as the light surrounding the hat began to take shape, and the gleaming, jeweled handle of Gryffindor's sword suddenly materialized. The robed person closed his gloved fingers around the hilt...

_'NO!' _

'Ron!'

Ron opened his eyes and panted heavily. He was sitting in his room, and it was, judging by the weak sunlight starting over the horizon, just before dawn.

'Ron,' said Hermione urgently, gripping his arm. 'Are you okay?'

Ron fought to catch his breath before looking at Hermione.

'A dream,' he gasped. 'I had a dream.' And he quickly reached across Hermione to his nightstand for his dream journal and the self-inking quill she'd given him.

'What happened?' she asked.

'Tell you in a minute,' he muttered, as he began to scrawl out as many details as he could. It took all of three minutes. Then, he looked up at Hermione and told her.

'Rita spoke?' said Hermione. 'Maybe that means Hopkirk is going to get through to her, or Mrs. Tonks, or someone else.'

'I hope so,' said Ron. 'I just wish I could figure out what she meant by "It's not what you think."'

'Maybe it's just her trying to tell us that she wasn't working for Voldemort on purpose,' Hermione suggested. Ron considered this for a moment, and figured it was the most logical answer, although a nagging part of his brain reminded him that dreams, especially Seer dreams, were rarely so logical, so obvious. But he let it go as they went over the other, more important part of the dream.

'He had a Gryffindor,' said Hermione, frowning. 'You couldn't see who it was?'

'No,' said Ron. 'Only that it was a little person. I couldn't even tell if the person was male or female. It might have even been a kid, but I doubt it.'

Hermione nodded. 'No, since Rita got caught they don't have an insider working for them anymore,' she agreed. 'It would be a lot easier to grab someone off the street than try and get him or her from here.' She paused. 'What about the thing with Hagrid?'

'No idea,' said Ron. 'Maybe it had something to do with Grawp. I just...in the dream I got this feeling like it wasn't for me to find out, or deal with, or something. I felt like I had to get back inside, so I went.'

They both sat in silence for a long moment, and then Hermione spoke.

'You'll have to tell McGonagall,' she said. 'The Ministry will have to increase security or something. Voldemort can't get his hands on a Gryffindor.'

'Yeah,' said Ron grimly. 'Damn. I'll tell her now; you should get dressed and get back to your room, anyway. I don't fancy McGonagall catching us...you know.'

Hermione smiled. 'McGonagall knows we're sleeping together, Ron,' she said, climbing out of bed and picking up her knickers off the floor. 'She just chooses to look the other way. As long as we're discreet it's not a problem.'

Ron grimaced. 'Hermione, do me a favor, and never, ever talk about our teachers when you're naked, okay?'

* * *

Ron kissed Hermione good-bye as she left his room; he watched her bushy hair disappear as she rounded the corner and wished more than ever that they could just flee and hide somewhere and forget about what was happening in the world. But reality would not leave them alone. He groaned inwardly and set about facing the day.

After a near-scalding hot shower, a shave, and throwing on his school things, he went to the Headmistress's office and told McGonagall the pertinent information from his dream; she thanked him profusely for the warning, and informed him she would be contacting the Ministry at once. Ron then sought out Firenze, only to be turned away at the door of the Divination classroom by Professor Trelawney.

'I'm afraid Professor Firenze is...deep in meditation at the moment,' said Trelawney, with no small hint of disdain in her voice. 'But if you'd like my assistance...'

'No, thanks,' said Ron, as politely as he could. 'I'll catch him later.'

By that point, it was breakfast time, and the castle was fully awake. Students were filtering into the Great Hall and Ron realized he was, as usual, very hungry. He went to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Neville, who was looking over his Herbology notes.

'Two weeks to N.E.W.Ts,' he grumbled, his eyes never leaving his notes as he munched on a piece of toast.

'Thanks for the reminder, Neville,' said Ron wearily, reaching for a pot of coffee and pouring himself a healthy measure of it.

'Sorry,' said Neville.

'Don't worry about it,' said Ron. 'It's not like we can stop time; they were bound to happen sooner or later.'

Neville finished his toast, gulped down some pumpkin juice and muttered something about seeing Ron in Defense before hurrying out of the Great Hall. A moment later, Harry and Ginny took seats across from Ron.

Ron looked up to greet them and immediately stopped: they both looked extremely tired, but there was something about their expressions that Ron, to his dismay, recognized at once.

Harry, noticing Ron's gaze, looked up in the middle of pouring himself some coffee.

'What?' he asked in a voice that was too innocent to be innocent, as he set down the coffeepot.

'Great,' Ron muttered.

'What's wrong, Ron?' Ginny asked.

'Ginny, if you have to ask, I'm definitely not telling you,' said Ron, screwing up his face.

Harry pursed his lips; Ginny looked like she was trying not to laugh. They exchanged a look that confirmed what Ron had already strongly suspected, and then the two of them giggled.

Harry actually _giggled._

'Oh, god!' Ron groaned, putting his head in his hands.

_My sister and my best mate...eugh!_

'You're not going to kill me or anything, are you, Ron?' Harry asked. When Ron looked up at him Harry's eyes were twinkling with laughter, but behind that there was genuine concern.

_Good, _thought Ron. _He_ _should be a little intimated. That's my sister, after all._

'No,' said Ron, after a deliberately long pause. Ginny snorted and shook her head, but then she took Harry's hand and smiled at him.

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione sat down.

'Good morning,' she said briskly, pouring some coffee for herself. 'Harry, Ginny, I was just going to--'

She broke off when she saw the giddy smiles on their faces, and she blushed, but beamed at them.

'Did you...' she asked. Harry and Ginny both blushed, and Hermione gave a little squeak and reached across the table to hug them both.

'That's so wonderful, I'm so happy for you!' she said.

'Hermione,' Harry muttered. 'You're embarrassing us.'

'It's not wonderful,' said Ron, grimacing. 'It's...yuck. I don't want to think about it.'

'Don't listen to him,' said Hermione, sitting back down and smoothing her hair. 'It is wonderful and we're both happy for you. Aren't we, Ron?'

'Thrilled,' said Ron, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. Hermione elbowed him in the side. 'Ow,' he said grumpily.

Whatever else was to be said about Harry and Ginny's big night was blessedly interrupted by the arrival of the post owls.

Ron and Ginny received notes from their mother informing them that George was even more talkative, and that he started asking for Fred. The news buoyed Ron greatly and for a moment he forgot about his sister and his best mate shagging and gave Ginny a bear hug.

Hermione received a pile of mail.

'They're letters,' she said, 'in response to some of my job applications.'

'Well, go on, open them,' said Ron eagerly.

'There's too many,' said Hermione. 'I'll do it later.' Instead, she opened up her copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

Ron and Harry, meanwhile, had a smaller pile of letters in their hands. Ron untied the small bundle and looked at the one on top. He gulped. The return address read _'The Ministry of Magic: Auror Training Program.'_

'Harry,' Ron choked.

'Yeah,' said Harry, staring at his own letter.

'What?' said Hermione, and Ron showed her. Her face paled slightly, and her jaw tightened.

'Should we...should we do it now?' Harry asked.

Ron stared at the envelope; the back of it was sealed with a wax imprint bearing the Ministry crest.

'Yeah,' he said, nodding hard as if to convince himself. 'I don't think I can go all day with it hanging over my head.'

'Let's do it at the same time, then,' Harry suggested.

'Okay,' said Ron. 'You know you're a cert, though, right?' He broke the seal on the envelope. Harry did the same.

'So are you,' said Harry fervently, lifting the envelope's flap; Ron followed suit.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and it was as if the silence had fallen on the whole Great Hall.

They each yanked their letters out of the envelopes, and at the same time, opened them.

Ron's eyes flew to his letter, his heart hammering somewhere in the region of his stomach.

_'Dear Mr. Weasley:_

_'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted, pending the results of your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, into the Ministry of Magic's Auror Training Program...'_

Ron let out a breath. He felt dizzy. He couldn't seem to read past that first line.

'Ron?' said Harry, looking up from his letter.

Ron looked up; he knew his face was drained of color. He wouldn't have been surprised if his freckles had vanished.

'Did you...' he asked, but he couldn't speak.

Harry hesitated, but then he nodded. 'Yeah,' he said.

Ron let out another breath and a smile suddenly crossed his face. 'Me, too.'

Harry's eyes widened, and suddenly they both let out triumphant whoops, leapt up from the table, and hugged each other across it.

In the next second they seemed to realize that they were two blokes hugging in the middle of the Great Hall, and they broke apart, both of them coughing and looking down at their half-eaten food.

'That's excellent, Ron,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair.

'You, too, mate,' said Ron, clearing his throat. 'Knew you'd get in.'

They looked at each other again, and grinned; both were now red in the face, and they shook hands.

'It's all dependent on our N.E.W.Ts,' said Harry, as they sat down again, ignoring the bewildered looks from the other students.

'Yeah,' said Ron, looking at his letter again, his eyes now able to take in the rest of the information contained in it. 'Says here if we get less than 'A' on anything we'll be wait-listed and required to do work-study for a full term, and take all sorts of equivalency exam for whatever subject we do badly in.'

'Shit,' said Harry. 'We'd better start revising a lot more.'

Hermione gave a little cough and pointedly ate a bit of oatmeal.

Ron grinned at her, but his grin faltered when he saw that she didn't look particularly thrilled at his acceptance into the Auror program.

_Shit. Please tell me we're not going to fight about this again,_ he thought desperately. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently; she looked up at him and smiled, but her eyes were very sad, and just a bit guilty, and he knew in that moment that a small part of her had wished he wouldn't get into the program at all.

The realization stung, and he let go of her hand, and suddenly the joy at being accepted into the training program didn't seem so joyous.

He looked down at his bacon and eggs and didn't feel hungry anymore. Hermione put a hand on his knee, willing him to look at her, and he did. Her eyes begged him to understand.

_I'm sorry,_ they said. Ron held her gaze for a moment, and nodded. It still hurt, but he realized it was only fair to put himself in her shoes, and consider how hard it had been for her to deal with everything. He took her hand again and gave it a small squeeze, and for the moment, things were cautiously okay with them. He only hoped they could stay okay; he didn't think he could stand rowing with her again, not now when everything seemed to be...

At that moment, Ron remembered his dream; his other letters were forgotten, and he leaned forward. Harry, Ginny and Hermione caught his look, and they leaned in.

Ron told them all about the dream. Hermione then sat up sharply, said, 'Oh!' and quickly opened her copy of _The Daily Prophet_, her eyes scanning the pages for what Ron knew would be a missing person's report.

'Nothing,' she said. 'It hasn't happened yet. But...look here, there's a notice on page two.'

She showed the paper to Ron; the notice took up a corner of the page and it simply warned all people to be on the lookout for increased Death Eater activity.

'That's not being very specific,' Ron grumbled, thrusting the paper at Harry and Ginny.

'No, it is disappointingly vague,' Hermione agreed.

'Madam Bones doesn't want to start a panic,' said Ginny. 'That must be the reason.'

'Yeah, well, after what I saw, she might want to reconsider,' said Ron darkly. 'If the Ministry doesn't get serious Voldemort will grab someone, and that someone will get the sword. Voldemort will make whoever he gets take the sword.'

'Could a person get the sword if he was being forced to, though?' Harry asked softly. 'You'd think Gryffindor would have put some kind of magic on the sword so that it, I dunno, protects against Imperius or something.'

'I know what I saw, Harry,' said Ron.

'I'm not questioning that,' said Harry firmly. 'I know better. I'm just wondering how Voldemort got around it. Come on, you have to admit, Gryffindor would have accounted for that, wouldn't he?'

'Yeah,' Ron conceded. 'He probably did.'

Hermione sighed. 'If what Ron saw proves anything, it proves without a doubt that Voldemort is back to full strength, or that he will be soon.'

'Looks that way,' said Harry grimly. 'Maybe that's why he had someone else put the Imperius Curse and whatever else on Rita; Voldemort was saving up his strength for a more important job.'

Left unspoken among the four of them was that Voldemort's important job was, of course, to kill Harry.

* * *

'We continue to focus on Healing techniques,' Professor Hopkirk said as she glided about the room. 'In today's lesson, I'm going to teach you all a Muggle technique for reviving those who are, for all intents and purposes, clinically dead.'

'CPR,' Hermione muttered to Ron.

'What?' Ron whispered.

'Cardiopulmonary resuscitation,' she whispered back.

'Oh,' said Ron, vaguely remembering this being mentioned in a long-ago Potions lesson.

'I thought a dead person couldn't be revived,' Padma Patil said, raising her hand.

'If hit by the Killing Curse, no,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'But let's say the person is wounded in some other catastrophic way that stops the heart from functioning, or the lungs, or both. That person, if found in time, can be saved. The trick is finding them when there's still enough time. A person whose heart and lungs stop functioning has a roughly four to five minute window in which he or she can be revived. Any longer than that, and the person will die, or, if revived, suffer from brain damage due to the extended lack of oxygen to the brain.'

'Are you talking about CPR?' Michael Corner asked.

'Yes, I am, Mr. Corner,' said Hopkirk. 'Ten points to Ravenclaw. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation is a somewhat crude method used by Muggles to jump-start a stopped heart and return function to the lungs. Mind you, Muggles often use chemicals to assist them as well; chemicals such as adrenaline--a substance already found in our bodies--are often injected directly into the heart to stimulate the heart to beat normally. But there have been numerous cases in the Muggle medical literature involving the use of CPR, and CPR alone, to save lives.

'Why would we even need it, though?' Dean Thomas asked. 'If we have spells and potions and such?'

'There may come a time, Mr. Thomas, when you have no wand or potion to help you, and the poor bastard lying before you hasn't, either,' said Hopkirk coolly. 'CPR is admittedly a last resort, and it has its drawbacks, but it's a vital part of the defensive healing repertoire.' Hopkirk's pale blue eyes swept the room.

'Can anyone list for me the drawbacks of CPR?' she asked. As expected, Hermione's hand shot in the air.

'Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, smiling her enigmatic smile.

'CPR, as you said, needs to be administered quickly,' said Hermione. 'Although four to five minutes is the outset for brain damage to occur, survival rates with CPR drop sharply if the victim isn't administered CPR within one minute of heart and lung failure. CPR can also cause injury: when chest compressions are performed it isn't uncommon for the person administering CPR to break the ribs of the person he's working on, and in some cases, a broken rib can lead to a punctured lung.'

'That's correct, Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk. 'Obviously a punctured lung isn't exactly ideal when one is trying to restore overall lung function.'

_No kidding._

Ron pursed his lips and wondered what it was with Muggle medicine; so much of it seemed to involve cutting things open and causing as much injury as it was trying to heal. As he looked about the room, he saw the worried glances of many other students, who clearly also thought CPR sounded like it was more trouble than it was worth.

Hopkirk, however, was determined, and before long they were paired up and Hopkirk conjured up very funny looking dummies for them to practice on. She showed them how to perform chest compressions, and how to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

'Tilt the head of the dummy back just like this,' she demonstrated. 'Pinch the bridge of the nose, like so. The most important thing is to create an airtight seal with your mouth, and don't blow too hard. Just blow in a nice, steady breath, pause, and blow again.'

Ron winced at the sight of the dummy before him, lying on the floor.

'I have to put my lips on that?' he muttered. 'Yuck.'

All told, it was an unpleasant lesson. Ron wasn't sure which was worse: the chest compressions, which really did look brutal, or having to put his lips over a plastic-tasting, creepy looking dummy. Harry, however, was even more deeply affected by the mouth-to-mouth thing.

'They call it the Kiss of Life,' he said, as he, Ron and Hermione left class. 'But...man, those dummies were creepy. The whole time it felt like...like I was doing a Dementor's Kiss. Yuck.'

Hermione smiled and shook her head. 'Dummies don't have souls, Harry, and you're not an evil scourge, so I don't think you have to worry.'

Harry chuckled and smiled at her; it wasn't often that Hermione was able to say something funny to ease his mood, but Ron always appreciated it when she could. He himself couldn't help but agree with Harry: working with the wide-eyed, unmoving dummies had been disturbing.

'I wonder if Hopkirk has made any progress with Rita,' Hermione said absently, as they headed to the Great Hall for the next meal.

* * *

The next two weeks went by faster than Ron had hoped. It was always that way, when exams were imminent.

Ron was accepted into two other Auror programs (pending his exam scores, of course), and rejected by two. Harry was admitted into all of them. Ron wasn't at all fazed by this; deep down, he hadn't truly expected to get in any program at all; he'd managed to get the Ministry program, which was the one he wanted most of all; and it wasn't as if Ron didn't expect Harry to get into every program he'd applied for.

The only downside was Hermione. Things became tense for them again as she struggled to accept what had happened, and the only thing Ron could do was give her space. It didn't help that she was also coping with the pressure of exams; as usual, Hermione became extremely irritable the closer the N.E.W.Ts came. She was so caught up in her emotional turmoil over the exams and Ron's acceptance into the Auror program that she didn't even seem to care that she'd been accepted into every job she'd applied for so far, including a top spot in the Ministry's Healing program, a prestigious post within the Department of Mysteries, and an internship with the head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Ron didn't bother asking her which job she would take; he knew she wouldn't make a decision until exams were over. Ron couldn't help but wonder, however, why she was so stressed about exams, given that every job she'd been accepted for was willing to take her even with less than stellar N.E.W.T scores; her academic record over the course of her Hogwarts' career was just that good, that she didn't even really need to worry about N.E.W.Ts. There was no point in telling her this, though.

They wound up having sex more often, however, as a result of Hermione's stress levels. Ron supposed he ought to be somewhat offended that Hermione was using sex as a means of therapy, but it struck him as ridiculous to complain about having too much sex. Perhaps the only thing that really bothered him was that Hermione wouldn't discuss with him his acceptance into the Auror program, but given the circumstances, he knew he had to leave it up to her to broach the subject.

Ron and Hermione were hardly the only couple regularly having sex these days, Ron noticed. Harry and Ginny were, Ron guessed grimly, probably going at it every night since they'd first done it. Ron tried not to think about that too much, but it was difficult not to, given the googly eyes Harry and Ginny made at each other all the time, and the fact that Harry was still giggling like a girl on occasion.

_Honestly, I was never that bad when I first started having sex with Hermione!_

Neville, too, was spending more and more time with Luna, and Ron definitely didn't want to think about that. Not that he wasn't happy for Neville, of course.

_Hell, if anyone deserves to get some, it's Neville._

Seamus and Lavender seemed to have taken over a particular broom closet on the second floor. Twice they'd been caught fooling around, once by Filch and another time by McGonagall. McGonagall herself had once again sealed off the Room of Requirement, which left students to fumbling about in empty classrooms and dark corridors. Ron and Hermione were given the unpleasant task of handing out detentions to 'fraternizing' students.

'No exceptions,' McGonagall had ordered.

'I feel like such a hypocrite,' Hermione confided.

'Me, too,' said Ron. It was particularly uncomfortable when they caught Blaise and Daphne in the greenhouses during one patrol, but the two Slytherins accepted their fate with grace and some bemused shrugging, both stating they were too happy to be back together as a couple to care.

Meanwhile, with Rita was so slow that McGonagall had finally moved her to St. Mungo's, to the Spell Damage ward. Hopkirk had, apparently, been able to lift some of the curses placed on her, and Mrs. Tonks was able to confirm that Rita had indeed been working under hard coercion by the Death Eaters and Voldemort, but Rita was hexed so badly that she seemed unable to talk. Hopkirk had come to the conclusion that she was most likely under the influence of a Fidelius Charm, which was unbreakable except by the person who had cast it.

'So unless Lucius Malfoy decides to drop the charm,' said Hermione, 'chances are we won't get a useful thing out of Rita.'

'At least Mrs. Tonks cleared up Rita's motives,' said Ron. 'She was being forced into it. That must be what she meant when she said what she said in my dream.'

In the meantime, Ron was busy with revising for exams; attending the blood potion testing sessions with Harry, lessons, Head Boy duties and daily meditating.

He'd gone to Firenze later that day after having the dream. Firenze was acting very odd lately, Ron decided, or at least, odder than usual. When Ron related the part of his dream about the strange lights in the Forest, Firenze had closed his eyes and looked resigned about something, but when Ron asked what it all meant, Firenze would only say 'It is written, and what will be will be.' Without another word, the centaur turned with a swish of his tail and clopped into the 'forest' of the Divination classroom. Since then, Ron was disturbed to find that every time he went to see Firenze, the centaur was always, according to Professor Trelawney, 'deep in meditation' and refusing to be disturbed. That Firenze wouldn't give him the time of day told Ron that something was happening; something big was coming.

_It'd be nice if I could talk to him about what that is,_ he thought furiously. _What's he on about, not seeing me? Doesn't he know I need his help?_

But Ron's frustrations about Firenze didn't compare to his frustrations with meditating. He seemed to have hit a wall, and everything was dark. The only time, indeed, that Ron seemed to be able to See anything was in dreams. During the waking hours, Ron's attempts to meditate either recycled the same images over and over again, or revealed nothing at all. He had no better idea now than two weeks ago where the sword was, or who the mysterious Gryffindor was, or what the lights in the Forest meant, or why Hagrid had run into the Forest.

Ron did manage to ask Hagrid quietly one day whether he was going into the Forest at all, to which Hagrid replied, 'O'course, gotta see Grawpy and Mawg, don' I? They're doin' great by the way. Gettin' along jus' fine.'

The only consolation Ron was offered as far as his futile attempts at meditating went was that so far, no stories in The Daily Prophet had appeared that indicated anyone had been abducted. Warnings were posted daily in the paper, always on page two, reminding people to be extra alert, to keep track of their children, to carry their wands at all times, etc.

'Constant vigilance,' Harry muttered sarcastically, which earned a few chuckles from Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

A week before N.E.W.Ts, however, something happened that brought first alarm, then relief.

Late one night, while the four of them were studying in the otherwise empty common room, Harry suddenly gave a loud wince, and his hand dropped his quill and flew to his scar.

'Harry!' Ginny cried, leaping up from her chair.

Harry groaned and clutched his head in his hands.

'Easy, mate,' said Ron, hurrying to his side as Ginny tried to put her hands on Harry's forehead.

'Don't,' Harry gasped, moving away from Ginny. 'It'll pass...'

And sure enough, the pain in his scar did pass; Harry looked up at them.

'What is it?' Hermione asked.

'Something's happened that's got Voldemort furious,' said Harry. 'That's why I felt it just now. He's really angry.'

The fact that Voldemort had slipped up and allowed his fury to reach such a pitch that Harry felt it was hardly comfortable for Harry, but all four of them agreed that if Voldemort was angry about something, it meant something had happened to thwart his plans, or at least delay them in some way.

'Did you see what he was angry about?' Ginny asked.

'No,' said Harry. 'But there's always _The Prophet_ to tell us tomorrow.'

Indeed, the next morning the headline had them all gawping, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as they read it in Ron's room (they had given up trying to discuss things in the Great Hall; it was just too busy and crowded).

'Wormtail was caught last night,' said Hermione. 'That means he got away from Voldemort, just like Ron predicted. And...get this! He was wandering around Hogsmeade, raving.'

'Hogsmeade?' said Ron, alarmed. 'You don't think...'

'Yes,' said Hermione. 'He was obviously trying to get to the school. The question is why.'

'Raving about what?' Harry wondered, but the article didn't specify.

'Look at this,' said Ginny. 'Says he was taken to St. Mungo's, to the Spell Damage ward.'

'The same place Rita's in,' said Hermione. 'That's odd.'

'Too coincidental to be a coincidence,' said Harry.

'What could they tell each other, though?' said Ron. 'Or Voldemort? They're both in custody. Unless Voldemort now has a spy inside St. Mungo's.'

'Anything's possible,' said Hermione, 'but I doubt it. Voldemort was really angry about Wormtail getting caught.'

'I wonder why,' Harry mused. 'It's not like Wormtail was useful to him for getting the sword.'

'Why let him go at all?' said Ron. 'That's still bugging me. If Wormtail's that useless why not just snuff him and be done with it? And if Voldemort's pissed off about Wormtail getting caught, that can't mean he's being used as a set-up or a distraction, the way Rita possibly could be.'

'Could the Death Eater that let him go have done it behind Voldemort's back?' Ginny suggested.

'No,' said Harry. 'Voldemort knows when his followers are lying to him. You'd have to have a death wish to go behind Voldemort's back.'

'So Voldemort let Wormtail go,' said Ron, 'and made him come to the school. But why? That doesn't make much sense. The school would be on alert to look for him, wouldn't they? What was Voldemort hoping to accomplish?'

Harry was reading over the article again, and frowned. He seemed to be studying the photograph on the front page.

'He's under Imperius, too,' Harry said suddenly, 'and he's fighting it. Look.'

He shoved the paper at Ron and Hermione and they looked at the photo. It showed a struggling Wormtail being lead away by Aurors; Wormtail was alternately yelling and gesticulating, and then going limp and moving his lips as though in a trance.

'That's how Mr. Crouch looked that night in fourth year,' said Harry. 'He'd start talking about Percy getting him tea one minute and then he'd start raving and struggling the next.'

'That's why Voldemort is angry, then,' said Hermione.

'I dunno,' said Harry. 'I only felt that little flash of anger. What if that Death Eater did go behind his back, and he found out that the Death Eater had let Wormtail go? Maybe that's what's got Voldemort angry. I just can't see him letting Wormtail go, not with everything Wormtail's done by now; he'd either kill him or keep him close by.'

Ron sighed. 'This whole situation is getting really weird. And it doesn't help that I can't meditate worth shit these days.'

'You haven't had any new dreams?' Ginny asked.

'Just the one about those lights in the Forest, and Rita and Hagrid and the sword,' said Ron. 'I get why I'm having the dream about the sword--it's like I'm supposed to track it down, you know? My subconscious is telling me I'm involved with that. But why the stuff about the Forest and Rita? That's what's odd. I know that has nothing to do with me. It's like I'm not even supposed to be anywhere near the Forest when I see those lights. I'm supposed to be back here.'

They talked a few more minutes, but all too soon, it was time for lessons. By this point, none of the teachers were trying to teach the students anything new: all class time was taken up in revising for N.E.W.Ts, and doing practice quizzes, both written and practical. Snape, still in hospital in the weird coma and showing no sign of waking up anytime soon, was not there to torment them all about how they were certain to fail their Potions exams; both Sprout and Hopkirk, who were sharing the taking of the lessons, were not much better. Sprout was always very strict near exam time, and Hopkirk...was Hopkirk.

The evenings were taken up with D.A. meetings and more studying. The biggest disappointment for Ron was that the Quidditch final had been moved to after the exams. On the one hand, it made perfect sense: the weather would be nicer; exams would be over and the students and teachers could enjoy it more; but most importantly, it would allow ample time to arrange for security. But with only minimal Quidditch practices allowed, under strict security conditions, for the first time in a long time Ron was nervous about how he'd perform in the match. He wasn't a natural talent like Harry; he needed to practice, and to fly regularly, but security conditions made that difficult at best.

Harry, meanwhile, continued to test Hopkirk and Hermione's potion. Hermione had finally come up with a sample of a potion she believed would work for up to twelve hours, but in order to test it, it meant that Harry would need to get ahead on his studying so that he could have a full twelve hours of free time.

'If you take it tonight after supper,' Hermione was saying on a Friday night in late May, 'you'll probably feel too energetic to study, and after it wears off you'll need a lot of sleep.'

'I need a lot of sleep now,' Harry grumbled; he'd been up late every night this week trying to stay ahead of his studies. In commiseration, Ron had joined him, and was now relying on more coffee than usual to get him through each day.

As it turned out, the potion worked, and quite well. The problem was that Harry was so energized by it that Hopkirk insisted he be given an antidote to make it wear off sooner.

'He's got exams and he needs rest,' Hopkirk snapped when Hermione protested. 'The point was to prove that your potion worked, not to exhaust Harry.'

Hermione took the chastising with relatively good grace, perhaps because Harry's scar had been tingling for a week now, and it was the threat of Voldemort invading Harry's mind for a full twelve hours that made Hermione nervous enough not to retort.

The next day, Saturday, was clearly to be taken up with revising. Hermione parked herself in the library just after breakfast and Ron decided to join her for a while. The silence got to him after about an hour, when he announced he was taking a break. Hermione clucked her tongue at him, but smiled when he left her side, kissing her cheek as he went. Ron decided to find Harry--who was ostensibly studying in the common room with Ginny--and see if they could play a quick round of chess. He stopped by his room to fetch his chess set, and then headed for Gryffindor Tower.

Ron came into the common room to find Harry and Ginny in the midst of a disagreement. He started to duck out to give them some privacy, but just then they seemed to resolve things. Harry didn't look particularly pleased about it, but he was nodding and Ginny was being very placatory about something. Ron knew it wasn't really any of his business, but he wasn't comfortable with the expression Ginny had on her face. She seemed deeply troubled about something.

'Er,' Ron said awkwardly, 'what's up?'

'Oh, Ron,' said Ginny. 'Nothing. Nothing's up.'

'Ginny wants to help Malfoy out one more time,' Harry said pointedly. Ginny gave him an angry look.

'Harry,' she hissed.

Ron, however, was alarmed. True, Malfoy had been quiet for a long time yet, and hadn't seemed to be bothering Ginny, but Ron was sure Ginny's obligations to Draco Malfoy were long past.

'Why?' Ron asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

'Because it's the only way I can end this whole thing,' said Ginny tiredly.

'End what thing?' said Ron.

'Draco's obsession with her,' said Harry, folding his arms across his chest.

'Draco's depression over Pansy,' Ginny corrected sharply. 'Look, Ron, it's a one-time deal. Harry shouldn't have even bothered you with it--'

'I'm glad he did,' said Ron.

Ginny groaned. 'Can't the both of you trust me to know what I'm doing here?'

'It's not you we don't trust, it's Malfoy,' said Harry.

'Harry, you're going to be standing outside the damn room the whole time,' said Ginny impatiently. 'He's not going to try anything if he knows you're there.'

'I still think Mrs. Tonks should be in on this,' said Harry.

'Wait, wait,' said Ron, alarmed, 'Mrs. Tonks isn't supervising?'

'No,' said Ginny defiantly. 'She's been at St. Mungo's, working on Rita. Look, this is a one time deal. Draco knows it. I'm just trying to give him some closure so he can move on, okay? That's it. If it doesn't work, well, too bad for Draco, but I can't not try.'

Harry pursed his lips. He looked resigned, though unsettled. Ron started to argue, but then he realized the futility of it. There was never any stopping Ginny once she got an idea in her head. Ron shook his head.

_Stubborn women.__ I'm surrounded by stubborn women. And Ginny's a Weasley, which makes her even worse._

'Okay, Gin,' said Ron. 'You'll do what you want. But I want to be there, too.'

'Ron, no,' said Ginny.

'No, yourself,' said Ron. 'You're my sister, I don't trust that prat far as I can throw him, and if he does mess with you I deserve a shot at him just like Harry does.'

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh. 'Men,' she bit out.

'Suck it up, Gin,' said Ron. 'If you're going to do this, you have to accept Harry's going to do his protective boyfriend act and I'm going to do my big brother act.'

'Fine,' she said angrily. 'Fine. God, you two are impossible.'

'Oh yeah, and you're a picnic,' said Ron, smirking. 'When is this supposed to happen?'

'Tonight,' said Harry, looking rather relieved now that Ron would be a part of this. 'Seven o'clock, in the greenhouses.'

'All right, then,' said Ron. 'Harry, you up for some chess?'

'Yeah,' said Harry gratefully.

Ginny watched both of them for a moment, looking torn between being angry and smiling. In the end, she smiled.

'You two drive me mad, you know,' she said. 'I'm going to go study for my own exams. Don't play chess too long or Hermione'll lose her hair.'

'Yes, Mum,' said Ron, chucking Ginny on the chin. She swatted him on the arm, and then turned and gave Harry a slightly lingering kiss before she marched upstairs to her dormitory.

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. 'Women,' he muttered. 'Why are we attracted to the two most obstinate women on the planet?'

'That's easy,' said Ron, setting up his chess board. 'We're a couple of a horny masochists.'

Harry snorted with laughter, and they settled down to play.

* * *

It was that very evening that things went to hell.

The first problem came just before lunchtime, when Harry's scar flared again. It hurt Harry so badly at first the Ron had half a mind to race him to the hospital wing. As usual, Harry refused.

'Voldemort's angry again,' said Harry, 'but I don't know what it could be.'

The mystery was unsolved for another hour, until, during lunchtime, McGonagall pulled Ron and Hermione aside and informed them that, against all odds, Wormtail had escaped St. Mungo's, despite heavy guard, and his whereabouts were again unknown.

'I want both of you to keep this quiet,' she said. 'I'll let the prefects know to keep their eyes open, just in case.'

'I can't believe he got away,' said Ginny, awed, after lunch was over and they sat in Ron's room. 'How'd he manage it? He was only there for a few days.'

'And in his condition,' said Hermione. 'How on earth is he even fit to move, let alone escape under guard?'

'That must be why your scar acted up again, Harry. Voldemort must think Wormtail's dangerous in some way,' said Ron.

'That seems like the most logical explanation,' Harry agreed.

'It can't be too long before he's caught again, though, surely,' said Hermione.

'You don't think he'd come back to Hogsmeade, do you?' said Ginny. 'Where they found him last time?'

'That'd be stupid,' said Ron. 'That's the first place Aurors are going to be looking for him.'

As the day wore on, there was no further news of Wormtail. However, just before dinner, McGonagall again pulled Ron and Hermione aside and said, 'I want you and the other prefects to come to my office at seven. I'm going to go over the new wards with you.'

'Why?' said Ron, alarmed.

McGonagall took a deep breath. 'We have intelligence that suggests there could be an attack on Hogwarts in the near future,' she said. 'I want to make sure the wards are in place, but also make sure that you and the other prefects know how to dismantle them if we need to arrange escape routes. And one more thing. Griselda Hopkirk was at St. Mungo's today, and she broke through the spells controlling Rita Skeeter.'

Hermione gasped and grabbed Ron's arm.

'And?' she whispered.

'Under intense interrogation,' said McGonagall, 'and with numerous fool-proof truth-telling methods in place, we have learned that Ms. Skeeter is not the person who was posing as Gregory Goyle.'

Ron felt his stomach plummet; Hermione's grip on his arm went slack. They were both stunned by this news. If Rita wasn't the imposter, that meant...

'All this time,' Hermione said in a horrified voice, 'the imposter could have been in here.'

'I think at this point we have to assume that to be the case,' said McGonagall grimly. 'Hence tonight's meeting. Don't be late.'

Ron and Hermione nodded at once, and McGonagall told them she would go about informing the prefects. Ron realized vaguely that he had meant to go with Harry to keep him company while Ginny worked with Draco, but that couldn't be helped. Harry wasn't too pleased to hear of Ron's change of plans when he found him and Ginny in the common room, but Ron didn't care. When Harry and Ginny learned of what had happened--they went into the boys' dormitory, which was empty, and sealed it shut so they could have privacy--neither one of them cared that Ron couldn't go with Harry to watch over Ginny and Draco either.

'Wait,' said Harry. 'Ginny, you can't help Draco tonight. For all we know he could be the imposter.'

Ginny, however, took the opposite course. 'No, no, if the imposter is still running around, then I have to do this tonight.'

'Harry's right, Ginny, it's not safe,' said Ron. He glanced over at the Slytherin table and was uncomfortably aware of Draco Malfoy watching them.

'Wait, just listen,' said Ginny. 'I haven't worked with Draco in a while, but I do know he can't lie to me. If he is the imposter, we could catch him!'

'So you're willing to admit he could be?' said Ron.

'Of course I am,' said Ginny. 'It's been ages since we've even spoken. He could have done a lot between then and now without me knowing about it. Especially if he was going about done up as Goyle.'

'No way,' said Harry. 'You're not making yourself bait, Ginny, it's way too dangerous.'

But Ginny would not be deterred. 'How about this?' she said. 'Before we go into the greenhouses, I touch his arm. I'll be able to tell in half a second if he's the imposter. I'll know it. Come on, Harry, you know I'd be able to tell.'

Harry grimaced, but he nodded. 'Yeah, you would,' he admitted grudgingly.

'Okay,' said Ginny. 'If he's not the imposter, I'll blink twice. If he is, I'll nod, and you can Stun him or something, and we'll take him straight to McGonagall.'

'That's not a bad plan,' said Hermione. 'If Draco's been behind all this we could end it tonight, and if not, well...at least we've eliminated him from the running.'

'Leaving a few hundred suspects left,' Ron said. 'I don't know about this.'

'Ron,' said Ginny, 'I'm sitting here wondering if Draco's behind this stuff, and the more I think about it, the more I think it's possible. I mean, look at the timing of all of it. Look at his behavior--he's separated himself completely from the other Slytherins, so who'd suspect him, right?'

'You're the one who said he'd turn away from the Death Eaters because of Pansy!' Harry protested.

'I know that,' said Ginny, 'but maybe I was wrong after all! Maybe the Death Eaters got to him. Maybe Draco really is evil. Look, if he's behind this we could get him tonight.'

'And if he's not?'

'Then we know he's not behind anything, and we keep looking,' said Hermione. 'Look, I'm not one to agree to dangerous schemes too often but...Ginny has a point. Two weeks have gone by since Rita was caught. If the imposter's been in the school this whole time, he could have been messing with the wards again. Even if he didn't see McGonagall put up the new ones, there are always ways to undermine wards if you're a clever enough wizard. Things are getting too serious, Ron. If those wards aren't in tip-top shape...'

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Ron hated the whole idea, but when he looked at Ginny, he knew she was right. They would have to risk it. Harry's shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked as if he had no choice but to accept.

'Fine,' he said. 'We'll do it.'

'I won't be there,' said Ron worriedly. 'Hermione and I have to see to the whole ward issue.'

'I won't let anything happen to Ginny,' said Harry fiercely, and he grabbed her hand as if to emphasize the point.

'It's going to be fine,' said Ginny. 'I promise.' Ron saw Ginny squeeze Harry's hand and saw Harry's tight face relax a bit.

They went to dinner, all of them in a tense but alert mood. Judging by the expressions on the prefects' faces, McGonagall had told them about tonight's meeting.

It was after dinner, about ten minutes before the prefect meeting and sitting in his room with Hermione, Harry and Ginny, that Ron suddenly remembered something McGonagall had said.

_We have intelligence that suggests there could be an attack on Hogwarts in the near future._

Ron swallowed his last bite of roast potatoes with difficulty as the meaning of his dream of the Forest became clear. A sudden, overwhelming need to talk to Firenze hit him in the stomach.

'Gotta go,' he said abruptly.

'Ron, what's up?' said Hermione, her face screwed up in concern. 'We have a meeting in ten minutes!'

'I know, but I just have to do something first,' he said, bending down to peck her on the cheek. 'I'll catch up, don't worry.'

He glanced at Harry and Ginny. 'Be careful,' he muttered. They nodded at him, looking a bit bewildered. Harry winced slightly and put a hand over his scar.

'Harry?' Ron asked.

'The usual,' Harry said dryly, pressing his hand to his scar. 'The usual' meant that it was nothing more than the constant dull prickling that had been bothering him for a week.

'You sure?' said Ron.

'I'm sure,' said Harry. 'Do what you have to do, you don't want to be late for that meeting, and Ginny and I have to get our thing done.'

Ron looked at them both; there was a fierce determination on both their faces that eased his worry a bit. 'Okay,' he said, waving to them and smiling at Hermione as he left the room.

He found himself running to the Divination classroom. Stopping at the closed door, he grimaced.

_Great.__ Ten to one Trelawney answers and starts bugging me about letting her use her Inner Eye to help me._

Ron braced himself for the inevitable, and knocked on the door. For a moment, no one answered, but then the door swung open, and Ron came face to face with Firenze.

Ron let out a sigh of relief.

'Professor,' he said, 'I really have to talk to you. It's urgent.'

'I know what you have seen,' said Firenze, his voice oddly hollow. He made no move to let Ron into the room. 'I have seen it, too. I must go.'

And with that, the centaur clopped past him and into the corridor. Ron was flabbergasted.

'What?' he rasped. 'What do you mean, you have to go?'

'I must consult with the herd,' said Firenze, not turning back to look at Ron. Ron found himself chasing the centaur toward the main doors leading to the grounds.

'The herd?' Ron repeated, appalled. 'You mean the herd that tried to kick your chest in?'

'I must speak with the herd,' Firenze said, more urgently, and he reached the main doors and opened them with a wave of his hand. A soft, warm breeze wafted into the corridor.

'Wait!' Ron cried. 'You can't go. Are you mad? They'll kill you, and I have to tell you something! Will you stop and look at me for a minute?'

'I know what you would tell me, Ronald,' said Firenze, and he did stop and look down at Ron. 'I must warn the herd. They will not have been open to the signs as I have, and they do not have your wisdom to help them.'

Ron gawped at him.

_My wisdom?__ What? Did the universe just turn upside-down? Is he actually saying what I think he's saying?_

'They'll kill you,' Ron repeated desperately.

'It is a risk I must take,' said Firenze. 'You will understand in time. Take care, Ronald. The darkness approaches, and you are needed to protect the innocent. That is what your dream meant. That is why you must not go into the Forest. It is not your place now. Only the Forest creatures can protect you now. You must protect the innocent, and protect Harry Potter. The blood of those who love him will save him.'

Ron was breathing hard; he felt dizzy.

_What the _hell_ is going on?_

'I must go,' said Firenze, and he clopped outside. Ron started to follow but Firenze, without turning around, lifted up a hand. Ron suddenly felt himself bump into an invisible barrier. He was reminded of the barrier in the secret passage on the fourth floor, except that the magic of Firenze's barrier was soft and protective. It was a warning.

'Stay,' Firenze ordered. He lowered his hand, and Ron felt the barrier dissolve, but his feet remained frozen in place as he watched the centaur's palomino body descend the stone stairs. Once Firenze was upon the soft grass, he turned back to Ron.

'Your part in this story is written, Ronald Weasley,' he said enigmatically. 'You will know what to do when the time comes.'

With a swish of the blond tail, Firenze turned and galloped toward the Forest, leaving Ron to stare after him.

'Hey!' a sharp voice called. 'You're not supposed to be out there.'

Ron turned and saw a young Auror silhouetted in the doorway.

'Sorry,' said Ron. 'Er, forgot.' He found his feet and hurried back inside; once there he was able to see that the Auror was James Marchbanks.

'You forgot?' said James.

'Well, it was nice out,' said Ron lamely, and then he remembered the prefect meeting. He made a big show of checking his watch.

'Gotta go,' he said. 'Head Boy meeting and all.'

Marchbanks smirked. 'Okay. But don't go wandering outside.'

'Will do,' said Ron. 'I mean, I won't. See you.'

He walked as fast as he could down the corridor in the direction of McGonagall's office; he was desperate to tell Hermione what Firenze had just said. Half of it didn't make any sense, but the part that did make sense confirmed McGonagall's suspicions, and it meant that preparing escape routes was more pressing an issue than ever.

Ron rounded the corner toward McGonagall's office when he felt a sudden pressing in his bladder.

_Great.__ Perfect timing to need the loo._

He rolled his eyes and went into the boys' loo and relieved himself, and was just washing his hands when it happened.

The vision was so sharp and overwhelming that his knees buckled.

_He was in the damp, windowless room again. The stool with the Sorting Hat was there on the stool. The small hooded figure was there as well, holding the hilt in a gloved hand. Voldemort was laughing gleefully. The hooded figure pulled the sword from the hat and held it up; the blade gleamed in the dim light of the room._

_Ron turned to Voldemort, who waved his wand at his right hand and conjured up a thick glove over it._

_'Bring it to me,' the Dark Lord hissed. Ron whirled round as the small hooded figure turned slowly, the sword in front of him, and walked toward Voldemort. _

_No..._

_The figure then handed the sword to Voldemort, with the hilt facing the dark wizard. Voldemort's profiled, shadowed face grinned hideously, put his wand in his robes with his left hand, and then with the ungloved, skeletal left hand, reached inside the hood of the robed person._

_'Good girl,' he said._

_Girl?__ He took a girl?_

_Voldemort then swept back the girl's black hood, to reveal bright red hair and freckles across her profile. There were tears pouring down her cheeks._

'GINNY!'

Ron crashed to the floor and found himself in the boys' loo.

'No,' he gasped. 'No...'

He leapt up and nearly fell down again. He was dizzy. Voldemort was after Ginny. Ron had to warn her.

He held his head and desperately shook off the aftershocks of the vision as he stumbled from the bathroom and raced down the corridor in the direction of the greenhouses. Along the way he passed Hermione.

'Ron!' she cried. 'Where are you--'

But Ron didn't stop.

_Ginny.__ I have to warn Ginny..._

Over and over again he saw the scene from the Riddle House last year, the way Voldemort had taunted Ginny, and now...the way his hand had disappeared inside her hood. The sick fuck was touching his sister, making her retrieve the sword...

_Only a true Gryffindor can pull the sword from the Hat._

What truer Gryffindor was there than Ginny?

_Harry will protect her. He won't let anything happen to her..._

Ron bounded outside, ignoring the protests of James Marchbanks, who gave chase, but he was no match for Ron's long legs, and the adrenaline that fed Ron's speed.

In the distance Ron heard more shouting: Hermione had followed him, but she, too, couldn't keep up.

_Get to the greenhouses._

The stars winked overhead, but Ron ignored them. The greenhouses were right there...

'Harry!' Ron bellowed, expecting Harry to leap up and hurry towards him. But it didn't happen, and as Ron reached the greenhouses, he saw why.

'NO!' Ron groaned. Harry was lying on the ground, nearly unconscious. He was covered in bruises and cuts and muttering to himself. A few feet away was his wand, lying on the grass, snapped in half.

No, no, no...

'Ginny...' Harry croaked.

Ron didn't stop to help Harry, not yet. Instead he burst into the greenhouses and searched frantically.

'Ginny!' Ron yelled. 'Ginny!'

More coughing, and Ron looked down to see the crumpled form of Draco Malfoy lying on the floor. Draco appeared to be half-conscious, and he, moaned in pain, but his face and body didn't seem to have marks on it.

Ron felt an overwhelming surge of anger and he yanked Malfoy up by the collar.

'You bastard!' he roared. 'Where's my sister? What have you done with her?'

Malfoy's head lolled to the side for a moment, and then his eyes came into focus.

'Was s'posed to meet her here,' he mumbled. 'Didn't hurt her...wouldn't hurt her...'

'Where is she?' Ron yelled, shaking Draco mercilessly.

'Took her,' Draco muttered, finally meeting Ron's eyes; his grey ones were sad and unfocused. 'Someone took her. Looked like me...just like me...'

'You're lying,' Ron growled, and with his free hand he took out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy's throat. Never in his life had Ron been so furious, so ready to hurt someone, to kill...

'Tell me where she is,' Ron hissed, pressing his wand into Draco's throat.

'Weasley!'

Ron turned to see McGonagall standing there, with white-faced, teary-eyed Hermione, James Marchbanks, Hopkirk, the huge form of Hagrid, and a few other Aurors.

'He's done something with Ginny!' Ron insisted. 'We have to interrogate him--'

'It wasn't him,' said a raw, aching voice. Ron blinked and saw Hagrid come forward. He was holding Harry up as Harry struggled to walk.

'Harry...' Ron choked. He let go of Draco, and Draco sank unceremoniously to the dirt floor. McGonagall gave a frustrated snort and motioned to an Auror to fetch the Slytherin, but Ron ignored this and walked over to Harry, who was looking at him with haunted green eyes. He had the shaky, unsteady look of someone who had recently been Enervated. He was clutching his scar, which looked to be paining him very badly.

'What's going on? What happened to Ginny?'

'The imposter,' Harry croaked. 'The imposter took her.'

Ron swallowed, and he felt another rush of fury, this time at Harry. He grabbed at Harry's robes.

'You promised!' Ron bellowed. 'You swore you wouldn't let anything happen to her! Dammit, Harry, she's the one he wants! How could you let this happen?'

'Ron, stop it!' Hermione cried, and she grabbed onto his forearm and tried to wrench him away from Harry. An Auror pushed past them carrying the limp form of Draco Malfoy.

'Ease off, Ron,' said Hagrid, putting a huge, meaty hand on Ron's shoulder and shoving him away as though Ron were a particularly persistent fly. Ron staggered and let go of Harry, but kept his eyes focused on him. Harry gazed at Ron with an expression of pure self-loathing, and suddenly Ron felt sick.

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, his voice breaking. 'It happened so fast. An ambush. They took off on a broom. I should have protected her...I never should have...it's my fault...'

'No, it's not!' Hermione cried shrilly, throwing her arms around Harry's neck. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn't stop a few tears from leaking out. Ron felt his heart crack, and he pulled Harry into a one-armed hug.

'I'm sorry,' Ron said over and over again. 'I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. We'll get her back. If it's the last thing we do we'll get her back.'

Harry gave a choked sob and leaned against Hermione, but let Ron hug him. Ron's eyes burned. He was vaguely aware of McGonagall issuing instructions to the Aurors to mount a complete search of the grounds and the surrounding airspace, but some part of him knew it was too late. Twenty minutes was more than enough time to spirit Ginny away on a broom and take her to a place where she could be transported far, far away from Hogwarts.

Ron felt a tear slide down his face as he thought of his sister, alone and in the hands of the most evil sorcerer alive, when a distant movement in the Forest trees caught his eye. He squinted and looked harder, and stepped back from Harry and Hermione.

'We have to get inside,' Ron heard himself say.

'What?' said McGonagall and Hermione together. Others turned to see what Ron was looking at.

'What is that?' said Mary Stebbins, pointing in the direction of the trees.

'Lights,' said James Marchbanks.

Hagrid was now staring at the flickering dots of light in the distance, and his eyes widened.

'I gotta go,' he said distantly, and before anyone could stop him, the half-giant jogged heavily from the greenhouses and began to sprint towards the trees.

'Where's he going?' McGonagall cried. 'Hagrid! What on earth is going on here?'

Ron stared at the lights in the Forest, and remembered his dream. Remembered Firenze's words. Remembered that his sister had been taken.

'We have to get inside, now,' he said more urgently, looking at McGonagall desperately.

Something in her face told Ron that even if she didn't understand why he was saying what he was saying, she nonetheless believed he was right.

'Let's get inside,' she said, motioning to the Aurors. 'We'll take Potter and Malfoy to the hospital wing.'

'I'll take Harry,' said Ron, holding Harry up against him; Harry's legs shook.

'I'm sorry,' Harry mumbled.

'Stop it,' said Ron softly. 'Let's get you inside. We'll figure out what happened.'

Hermione looked up at Ron with tearful eyes, and then went to the other side of Harry and began to walk with him toward the castle. Harry said nothing, but Ron could sense the other boy's anguish. Ron hated himself for blaming Harry, even for a second.

_Of all the shitty things for me to do, that's in the top ten. Harry's always blaming himself for everything as it is, and I went and added to it._

Ron's own bitter thoughts were interrupted by another sudden movement in the distance. Like lightning, his hand was inside his robes and he pointed his wand; several Aurors seemed to have noticed, and their wands were out.

'What is it?' Hermione asked.

A figure was stumbling toward them. In the gathering darkness of the night Ron couldn't make out a face, but he noted that the figure was small and moved in a strangely skittish, if clumsy way. His movements were oddly familiar to Ron.

'Don't...hurt me!' the figure called. It was a man's voice, and the voice was even more familiar than the movements.

Harry stiffened next to Ron, and muttered, 'No way.'

'Holy shit,' said Ron, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing, unable to accept that anything more astonishing could possibly happen tonight.

'Don't hurt me...' the man begged, stumbling and landing on all fours. He crawled desperately towards the crowd. The Aurors had their wands trained on him, but didn't fire any spells.

Professor McGonagall was staring at the man like she might faint.

'Dear god...' she whispered.

Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, lifted his nearly-bald, bleeding head and leveled his eyes with McGonagall.

'Help me...' he begged, shaking violently for a moment before passing out on the grass.

* * *

**A/N: A VERY long chapter but hopefully worth it. This is where the end begins. I can't promise you anything on updates, but I can promise you cliffies--sorry, it's just going to have to be that way--and plenty of excitement and angst.**

**Thanks ever so much to lina, and to Buckbeaky as well, two lovely betas who've made this story a lot better for their help.**

**Next up: A plan for the final showdown takes shape...**


	47. Chapter Forty Seven: A Plan Coalesces

**A/N: This chapter contains some unpleasant violence**.

_Chapter Forty Seven: A Plan Coalesces_

Voldemort found himself in a dark corridor. He also felt a bit tired, a bit weak; he walked slowly, as though preserving his strength.

But despite this strange feeling, that his body was slightly off, there was another feeling inside him: that of unadulterated glee. Something was waiting for him. Something that would change everything.

'She is just down here, my lord,' said a voice. Voldemort looked down and saw a short, stout figure in black robes. He felt a few more robed figures behind him and without looking, he knew who they were. Lucius Malfoy, his most useful servant of all. Helene Rosier. Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Very well, Jugson,' said Voldemort, in a high-pitched voice.

Jugson lead him to the end of a corridor that suddenly struck Voldemort as very familiar. He was sure he'd been here before.

Jugson paused in front of a closed door, and then opened it with a soft click. Voldemort passed through the door.

What met his eyes was, at first glance, a vision of triumph. She was there, her red hair was glinting even in the dim light of the windowless room, that was little better than a large broom closet.

In the next instant, Voldemort's eyes registered what he was seeing, and he felt a wave of fury overtake him. Ginny was pressed against the far wall, struggling with Theodore Nott, as his companion stood in the corner, smiling smugly beneath a Death Eater hood. Nott and his friend clearly weren't aware of Voldemort entering the room.

'Stop...' Ginny pleaded, as Nott's hand tore the front of her blouse and groped at her breast.

'Hold still, you stupid slag...' Nott grunted, holding her head still as he tried to kiss her, when he suddenly gave a cry of pain and backed away, with a bleeding lip. Nott then growled and backhanded her hard about the face, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Voldemort gave a growl of his own, tore his wand from his robes, and bellowed out a curse that sent Nott flying backwards. With a scream of pain, he crashed into the opposite wall and crumpled to the floor.

'You dare touch what belongs to me?' Voldemort roared, striding across the room to stand over Nott, who lay on his side, moaning in agony.

'Please...my lord...I'm sorry...'

'She is not to be touched!' Voldemort yelled, whirling about and staring down the Death Eaters. 'She is mine, and I alone will decide how she is dealt with!' He then turned on Nott's companion.

'You,' he said, 'I did not instruct you to bring her so that she could be a plaything for idiot teenagers.'

The Death Eater nodded and said, 'Forgive me, my lord.'

Voldemort's gaze settled on the girl with the red hair, Ginny Weasley. She was still on the floor, and she had backed up against the wall, her body tense as though she might flee, though there was nowhere for her to go. She feebly held her shredded blouse up to her chest.

Voldemort regarded her for a long moment and was displeased to see that she was covered in bruises and looked to be in no small amount of pain.

'She is damaged,' he snapped.

'She struggled,' said the Death Eater who had brought her. 'Quite actively. I had to restrain her.'

Voldemort scowled at the abductor, but then said to Lucius Malfoy, 'Heal her, and fix her clothing. I want her healthy before I break her.'

Malfoy nodded and proceeded to cast several spells over Ginny, who struggled weakly. Her blouse mended itself, and the scar on her forehead was nearly healed, when Voldemort held up a bony white hand.

'Leave it,' he said. 'A little reminder is always useful.'

Lucius smiled coldly.

'Get her up,' said Voldemort, 'and chain her.'

Lucius again obeyed, pulling Ginny roughly to her feet. He waved his wand and Ginny's wrists were yanked over her head, chains attaching her wrists to the wall.

Voldemort regarded her, and then shook his head. 'I'd rather prefer her a bit more uncomfortable.'

'Of course,' said Lucius, and he waved his wand again, and suddenly Ginny's chains were hanging from the ceiling, binding her wrists tightly and pulling at her arms so that she had to stand on tip-toe. She gave a whimper of pain when Lucius, at a gesture from Voldemort, yanked off her gag.

'That hurts, doesn't it?' said Voldemort.

Ginny leveled a brown gaze at Voldemort and said, 'Go to hell.'

Voldemort heard himself laugh, and the laughter of Death Eaters echoed in the room.

'You're more defiant than I remember,' he said. 'Or perhaps "remember" isn't the right word. I have no real memory of our time together with my old diary. I have only what Lucius told me. You were much more compliant back then.'

The red-haired girl said nothing, but continued to stare at him with unchecked loathing.

'You know why you're here, don't you?'

'I have some idea,' she snarled.

'You'll be obtaining a sword for me,' said Voldemort. 'And once you've done that, you'll help me kill Harry Potter.'

At this, she swallowed, and for the first time, looked genuinely fearful. But she held her chin up and said, 'And just why would I do that?'

Voldemort leered at her and pulled his wand from his crimson robes, leveling the tip at her breastbone.

'You have little choice in the matter,' he said. 'Now it is time for me to test you, little Weasley. _Imperio___

The spell struck Ginny and she gasped, and then her face went slack. She might have been in an open-eyed coma, except that her brown irises darted to Voldemort's skeletal white face and the red eyes as he leaned closer.

'I have you,' he whispered cruelly, holding her chin in his bone-white hand. 'You are mine completely, Empath. Look at me.'

She did; her eyes were tearful and full of hatred, but she was powerless to escape the pull of the curse upon her. Voldemort waved his wand at her wrists and her bonds disappeared, but she didn't lower her arms; she wouldn't until he told her to.

'Place your hands on my face, Empath,' Voldemort hissed. She lowered her hands and stretched them towards his bone-white face, slowly, and Voldemort saw that her hands shook. She was fighting him. He struck her with the spell a second time; she whimpered and her hands moved to his face.

He winced at the contact; her hands were surprisingly warm against his icy skin. He felt the stirrings of her power; she could not defeat the Imperius Curse, but her mind was still there, waiting for him to control. He put his wand away and reached up, clasping her hands tightly to his face with his own hands.

'Give me strength,' he ordered, keeping his eyes fixed on her. She began to cry in earnest as he suddenly felt her power flow into him, and his weakness flow out.

'Yes...' he whispered, feeling stronger as Ginny absorbed his sickness, the sickness of the blood inside him that left his mind and body weak. She began to tremble, and then her body arched as she cried out in agony. Voldemort hissed in unexpected pain and let go of her, and she crumpled to the floor, barely conscious. Voldemort was panting heavily. The Death Eaters were staring at him with wide eyes.

Voldemort felt stronger, but the pain inside him was stronger as well. He gazed down raptly at Ginny, who was lying on her side, still slack jawed from the Imperius Curse.

'Interesting,' said Voldemort, smiling smugly. 'Get her up,' he added, nodding at Lucius. Lucius pulled Ginny roughly to her feet.

'Look at me,' Voldemort ordered again. Ginny obeyed. Voldemort studied her for a moment, and then pointed his wand at her and muttered, _'Finite.'_

Ginny blinked as the Imperius Curse lifted, and her eyes settled on Voldemort's.

_'Legilimens,'_ he said, and suddenly memories were flooding his mind; a little girl of five falling and scraping her knee; at seven, burying her pet gerbil; at ten, waving goodbye tearfully to her brother at a train platform; at eleven, writing in a diary...killing chickens...being dragged into the Chamber one last time...

Ginny screamed and shut her eyes, but just before the connection was broken, another memory flew into Voldemort's mind: that of a beautiful sixteen year old girl wearing a white dress and descending a spiral staircase, and an eager black-haired boy with green eyes and glasses smiling up at her with love in his eyes...

'NO!' Voldemort screamed, and the connection was broken as Ginny fell to her knees, panting.

Voldemort backed away, breathing hard, his head pounding. She was stronger than he thought; her connection with Potter was stronger than he thought. He knew at once he could not break her in the way he'd initially planned.

His initial plan--torture, followed by forcing her to use her powers on him, plus the occasional invasion of Legilimency--would not be enough. He wasn't strong enough to break her on his own, and if she was as strong as he suspected, she had resources to resist the Death Eaters, even if some of them violated her as they so clearly wanted to.

It was that connection with the boy, and their happiness...that was the key. He must break it. He must drive her to the brink of despair...

He smiled. Of course. He had plenty of those available. They should weaken her considerably, and give him enough room to manipulate her mind as he needed.

'My lord?' said Lucius Malfoy anxiously, peering at him with his one good eye. Voldemort looked at the other Death Eaters and raised a hand.

'A small change of plan,' he said. He waved his wand at Ginny, and her wrists were at once in chains again, held high above her head, so that she stood painfully on tiptoe in the center of the room. He turned sharply to Helene Rosier.

'In exactly two hours, I want you to bring two Dementors to this room and let them keep Miss Weasley company,' said Voldemort coldly. 'Do make sure they don't accidentally Kiss her, of course.'

Helene Rosier's face stretched taut with fear; nobody liked to handle the Dementors, but she nodded.

Voldemort smiled to himself as he saw the Weasley brat's eyes widen in fear. Helene Rosier bowed and left the room. Then he turned to Lucius.

'Hurt her, but not too badly,' he said. 'You and Rodolphus can take it in turns if you like. Jugson, come along. I fear I've worked up an appetite.'

As Voldemort left the room, he turned in time to see Lucius fire a Cruciatus curse at the Weasley girl, who screamed bloody murder as she thrashed against her chains. He couldn't suppress a chuckle as her feet left the ground, and he swept out of the room with Jugson at his heels, Ginny's screams echoing down the corridor...

_Harry...oh god...help me...it hurts..._

_Ginny! Where are you?_

_'Crucio!'___

Harry screamed and sat up in bed like a shot, and at once the nausea punched him in the stomach.

'Potter!' he vaguely heard Madam Pomfrey shout, as he leaned over the side of his bed and vomited, missing the bedpan.

'Potter, lie down,' Madam Pomfrey ordered, sidestepping the pool of vomit by the bed and pressing on his shoulders.

'No...' Harry groaned, and it was then that he noticed his scar was on fire; he'd seen Ginny. He'd seen Nott try to rape her, and Voldemort force her to use her powers to help him, and Malfoy...Lucius Malfoy was torturing her with Cruciatus...

'Ginny,' he croaked, holding his head in his hands.

'Potter, you really must lie down,' said Pomfrey, and Harry noticed that her voice was unusually agitated.

He looked up at her and shook his head. 'I'm fine,' he lied. 'I...just had a bad dream...'

It was then that he realized he'd actually been asleep. 'I fell asleep?' he asked incredulously.

'No, dear, you passed out when your friends were carrying you in here,' said Pomfrey. 'You were pretty well banged up, but the injuries were mostly superficial.'

'How long have I been out?' Harry demanded, as he grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and put them on.

'A while,' said Pomfrey. 'But if you don't calm down I'm going to give you a sleeping potion--'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry sharply. 'What's going on?'

For as he looked about the hospital wing, he noticed suddenly that there was a long queue of younger students leading out of Pomfrey's office. Hermione stood at the head of the queue, ordering students to be quiet and keep still; Ron was hovering at the back, also calling for calm.

'One at a time!' Hermione yelled. 'You'll all have your turn soon, it'll be all right!'

'What is this?' said Harry. 'What's happening?'

'Harry!' said Hermione. She turned to Padma Patil and said, 'Take over for me, would you?' Padma nodded and Hermione hurried to Harry's bedside.

'Potter needs his rest,' Pomfrey protested.

'I need to be awake,' Harry retorted, pressing his hand to his scar. 'Hermione, tell me what's going on!'

'Harry, mate, are you okay?' said Ron anxiously as he hurried to the other side of Harry's bed; he'd left Ernie MacMillan to calm down a group of fourth years that was waiting outside Pomfrey's office.

'Oh, for heaven's sake, FINE!' Pomfrey shouted, and she shoved a glass at Harry. 'This is Pepper Up Potion, Potter. Drink all of it, and if you start bleeding internally or you keel over, then on your own head be it!'

Harry took the glass from her without arguing, and drank it down in one; he watched, steam pouring out of his ears, as Pomfrey marched over to another bed, where a familiar figure was sitting up and rocking back and forth on his haunches. He was flanked by Professors McGonagall and Hopkirk.

'Wormtail!' said Harry, and he started to stand up.

'Easy, mate,' said Ron, pushing him down successfully onto the bed. 'They're trying to de-curse him. He's been raving ever since they brought him in here; they think he's trying to fight off the Imperius Curse.'

'Okay,' said Harry. 'And what's with the line outside Pomfrey's office?'

'We're evacuating,' said Hermione urgently.

'What?!' said Harry, astonished. 'Why?'

'Well, the Forest is...sort of on fire at the moment,' said Ron, and he gestured out the window. Harry whipped his head around and his jaw dropped when he saw, in the distance the glow of flames licking at the tops of distant trees.

'The Forest is burning!' he said, whipping his head back around to look at Ron and Hermione in horror.

'Yes,' said Hermione grimly. 'Right after we brought you in here...giants attacked inside the Forest. McGonagall sent trolls and some Aurors in there--'

'And Hagrid's got some of his monster mates helping, too,' said Ron. 'Aragog and his million or so kids decided they didn't like giants trampling on their lair.'

'How do you know this?' Harry demanded, but then he noticed that Ron and Hermione were rather disheveled and their faces were smudged with soot.

'We went into the Forest,' said Ron, 'just to make sure there weren't any students in there. We didn't get to battle anything, though.' He sounded rather disappointed about this.

'So, between the time...the time Ginny got taken to now,' said Harry painfully, 'giants have attacked the Forest and set it on fire, Wormtail's in the process of being de-cursed and we're evacuating the students?'

'Through Pomfrey's fireplace, yeah,' said Hermione. 'They had to open up a secret Floo network at the last minute. McGonagall wouldn't even tell us where we're sending people; she just said a safe location.'

'How long have I been out?' Harry cried.

Ron grimaced. 'Several hours,' he said.

'Several hours?' Harry groaned. 'Do...have your parents found out about what happened?'

Ron nodded, a painful look on his face. 'Mum freaked,' he said grimly. 'They had to give her a sedative. She and Dad are still holed up in whatever secure location they're in, according to McGonagall.'

'Have you tried locating Ginny?' Harry asked hopefully.

'Yeah,' said Ron, but his expression didn't inspire confidence. 'Several times. I see _her_, but not where she is. She...well, she looks okay at the moment...'

Suddenly Harry's scar burned, and he remembered his dream. He pulled Ron and Hermione close and told them everything, feeling guilt twist at his gut as Ron's face went paler and paler.

'He made me watch,' said Harry. 'He let me get inside his head on purpose. Dammit!' he added angrily. 'Why didn't anyone wake me up sooner?'

'We couldn't,' said Hermione quickly. 'You passed out and...Pomfrey thinks whoever attacked you hit you with a Coma Curse. It didn't take work away because you had too much adrenaline in your body. Normally you would have been out for days--we were worried you might be, in fact--but, well, you're awake. Maybe the blood potion has made you stronger.'

At that moment, Harry remembered something. 'It had better, because I don't even have a wand anymore.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. 'Yeah, we...well, we tried to see if there was any way to fix it but...once a wand's broken it's broken.'

'I don't believe this,' said Harry furiously. 'First I'm stupid enough to get ambushed and let whoever it was snatch Ginny, then my wand breaks, then I sleep for six hours...'

'Harry, this wasn't your fault,' said Hermione quickly. 'Look, we know most of what happened. Draco Malfoy told us. It _was_ the real Malfoy Ginny went into the greenhouses with, but someone was lying in wait for them. Someone disguised as Draco. He knocked both of them out and then somehow got to you.'

'He got to me,' said Harry miserably, 'because I wasn't paying attention. "Draco" came out and said he had to use the loo, he'd be right back, and I stupidly believed him, and then I decided to check on Ginny and I stupidly turned my back when I looked inside the greenhouse, and when I saw her lying on the ground...he got me. I'm such an idiot!'

'Harry, blaming yourself isn't going to help,' Ron insisted.

'That's rich, coming from you!' Harry retorted.

'I didn't mean what I said,' said Ron, his voice breaking. 'I didn't! I panicked and I was being stupid. Dammit, Harry...this is hard enough without you wallowing in guilt, okay?'

Harry let out a heavy breath. 'I'm sorry,' he said finally. 'I just...he's hurting her now, Ron. Right now. He's going to mess with her head and use Dementors against her--'

'Dementors?' said Hermione, looking appalled.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'She's an Empath, she'll feel it almost as bad as I do. And she can't fight the Imperius Curse, not really. That's an Empath's biggest weakness, and Voldemort knows it.'

'How could he have known she's an Empath?' said Hermione fretfully. 'From Rita? The imposter, whoever he is?'

'It doesn't matter,' said Harry. 'The fact is he knows, and he'll use it against her, and use her to get to me and get that sword. And now I don't even have a bloody wand. And, oh yeah, the Forest is on fire and we're evacuating the school.'

Hermione was about to say something when a very disheveled James Marchbanks jogged into the hospital wing; he called for McGonagall, who stood up and crossed quickly to him; Marchbanks muttered something to McGonagall, who then strode over to Ron and Hermione.

'Potter, you're awake,' McGonagall observed dryly. 'Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger...Marchbanks has just informed me the fire has been contained and the giants driven off or killed. I'll need you both to help with the clean up efforts; we can leave the evacuation process to the prefects.'

'But...wait...' said Harry weakly. Ron couldn't go clean up the damn forest, he ought to be meditating, trying to find Ginny...

'You need your rest, Potter,' said McGonagall sharply. 'And Mr. Weasley has already tried several times, as I'm sure he's told you. I share your concern for Miss Weasley, believe me, but if You-Know-Who did indeed take her for the reasons we suspect...we have some time to find her, is what I'm saying. Retrieving what he wants won't happen overnight.'

Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks; both knew that Voldemort would, indeed, keep Ginny alive, but that wouldn't stop him from hurting her, or letting his Death Eaters do the same. It appeared, at least as far as Harry could tell, that Voldemort wouldn't let the Death Eaters rape her, but that was hardly comforting, given that there were so many other ways to cause her pain.

'Come along,' said McGonagall firmly, to Ron and Hermione. They both nodded wearily.

'We'll be back as soon as we can,' said Hermione, and she gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek that Harry found, in spite of everything, to be oddly comforting.

'We'll work fast,' said Ron, and he shuddered slightly. Harry didn't have to guess why; there was a good chance Ron and Hermione might just bump into some of Aragog's offspring. They left the room with McGonagall and several banged-up looking Aurors. Harry closed his eyes as his scar began to prickle in earnest.

_Ginny...I'm so sorry..._

He fell back on the bed and covered his face with a hand.

He had to find her, and soon. But how? Legilimency? He dismissed this idea almost at once. Voldemort would have prepared for that contingency, and done all he could to block Harry from penetrating his mind. Beyond this was the possibility that Voldemort could even cause some damage to Harry with their mental connection, damage that Harry could not afford now, not if he was to face Voldemort any time soon. Not even the prospect of the blood potion gave Harry comfort--he needed all his strength and wits about him. He couldn't afford to risk Voldemort playing with his mind.

But without Legilimency, what could he do? He couldn't necessarily rely on Ron; good as Ron was at Seeing, his secret was out, and Voldemort had found some way to thwart Ron from locating Ginny, at least for the time being. Ron might be able to find her eventually, but that wasn't good enough for Harry. Ginny was being tortured now, her body and mind weakened so Voldemort could better control her and force her, somehow, to get the sword.

And then something else occurred to Harry: Voldemort's plans didn't include simply making Ginny get the sword. He would use her to try and kill Harry as well. And it was likely that he'd put her under the Imperius Curse to do it.

If Ginny's mind had been weakened by torture and exposure to Dementors, there was almost no chance at all she'd be able to resist the Imperius Curse. Voldemort would force her to attack him somehow. He would put Ginny between himself and Harry.

Harry sucked in a deep breath and shook his head as his scar prickled, and he saw how Voldemort wanted things to go down. By using Ginny as a shield, the dark wizard hoped that she would get caught in the crossfire, and that Harry, in the act of defending himself, would kill her. In so doing, Harry would destroy not only Ginny's life, but the connection they shared that was given life by her Empathic powers...

The connection they shared...

Harry sat up abruptly as he remembered something from his dream.

_Ginny._ He'd heard her voice. He'd felt her. She'd cried out to him in her pain, and he'd been able to call back to her, but he'd woken up before learning whether she could hear him.

_Of course! That's why Voldemort wants to break my connection with her! It's the only way I can find her! _

Harry seized on this glimmer of hope, but then a darker thought entered his mind. True, he might be able to connect with Ginny somehow, across the distance that separated them, but what if Ginny was too weak, or her mind too addled, to respond? She could be surrounded by Dementors now. How could Harry possibly hope to penetrate that fog of despair? Was the connection they had strong enough to bridge such a great distance? He didn't know; it had never occurred to him before to wonder about it.

_I have nothing to lose by trying. I have to try._

He started to get up; he needed to get to his dorm room if he had a hope of doing this properly. But standing up brought a wave of dizziness crashing over him, and he fell back onto the bed, his scar throbbing. He tried again, with the same result.

_Shit!_

_Easy, Potter. Breathe. Okay, you'll...you'll just have to try it here._

He grimaced and pulled the curtain around his bed shut; the measure of privacy was pitiable, but it could not be helped. He didn't want to waste any more time.

He lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes, willing his mind to empty itself of everything but Ginny...her brown eyes, her freckles, her red hair, the tiny scar on her chin that she said she'd gotten from falling off a broom when she was seven, her laughter, her skin...

_Ginny?___

Nothing.

_Ginny! Where are you?_

And then Harry felt pain, pain so all-encompassing he bit his lip to keep from crying out. For a moment, he wasn't sure where the pain was coming from. Was this Voldemort at work again? Harry's hand flew to his scar; it was burning, but something told him this pain was different. It was closer to him, more real...

_Harry..._

Harry gasped.

_Ginny!_

_Help me..._

_Where are you?_

_It hurts..._

_I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Ginny, can you tell me where you are?_

_Don't know...it's dark..._

And suddenly Harry was seized with cold, as though ice had been poured into his veins.

_No...no..._

_Ginny!_

_So cold...___

Harry gasped as the cold grew worse; he heard Ginny whimpering, somewhere in his mind, and then she began to cry. She was slipping away from him, and he felt unchecked despair...despair that was hers, not his...

_No!_

She was gone. Harry opened his eyes and for a moment thought he might throw up again. The Dementors were guarding Ginny now, and it would be a miracle if he could get through to her again. The lingering effects of the Dementors presence clung to him, and he knew he would never be able to find her, knew she was lost forever to him...it was too much...he felt tears burn his eyes...

'Hold him still!'

The sound of Professor Hopkirk's voice shouting snapped Harry out of his miserable reverie. He sat up and pulled the curtain surrounding his bed aside, to see Hopkirk and an Auror he didn't recognize struggling to restrain a thrashing Wormtail.

'What's going on?' the Auror asked, as he held firmly onto Wormtail's arms.

'That last of the curses is coming off,' said Hopkirk, as she pressed her weight onto Wormtail's ankles, 'and he's having some kind of reaction.'

Harry got up slowly and crossed the room to Wormtail's bed. The closer he came to Wormtail, the more Harry's scar seemed to throb, but he ignored the pain. If Wormtail was indeed about to be freed from whatever curses he was under, Harry wanted to be witness to it. There had to be a reason Wormtail had emerged from the Forest barely ahead of a giant attack.

Wormtail's struggles subsided even as Harry's scar began to pound worse than ever.

'That's it,' said Hopkirk, in an eerily soothing voice as she leaned over Wormtail. 'Easy.' She looked up at the Auror. 'You can let him lie back.'

The Auror released Wormtail, who sank bank onto the mountain of pillows behind him.

Harry winced and pressed a hand to his scar.

'What are you doing here, Harry?' said Hopkirk sharply. 'You should be resting.'

'I want to talk to him,' said Harry, staring at Wormtail, who was blinking and staring up at the ceiling.

'I'm sure a lot of us do,' said Hopkirk, 'but given that I've just taken about ten major curses off him it might be a while before he can--'

'Harry...'

Harry's eyes widened as Wormtail looked directly at him. He was filthy; his face was a network of cuts and bruises; his already thinning hair had fallen out in great chunks; he looked emaciated. The skin above his silver hand was inflamed--it looked as if Madam Pomfrey had applied some kind of thick salve to it--and Harry vaguely saw the outlines of the Dark Mark on the skin of his left forearm.

'Harry,' Wormtail croaked again, and he began to tremble.

Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling a million emotions at once. This was the man who'd sold out his parents, who'd brought Voldemort back to power, who'd tried to kill Lupin. This was the man who'd slaughtered twelve innocent Muggles and framed Sirius for doing it. This was the man responsible for Sirius spending twelve years in Azkaban. This was the man who'd murdered Cedric Diggory. Harry felt the stirrings of hatred in his belly, but they were dulled by the sight of this pathetic, wasted man who looked like he might die at any moment.

Harry took a deep breath and moved to the right side of Wormtail's bed; Hopkirk nodded at the Auror, who made room. She then went to the left of Wormtail and sat down next to him, her wand in her left hand.

'What?' Harry asked, as he stood over Wormtail.

'Your parents...' Wormtail whispered. Harry's face curled into a scowl.

'Don't you talk to me about them,' he growled.

But Wormtail's eyes filled with tears. 'S-sorry,' he said. 'I'm s-sorry...for what I did...'

'Sorry?' Harry retorted. 'That's it? You're sorry? You sold them out and you think you can just say you're sorry and that makes everything okay--'

'No,' said Wormtail. 'N-nothing I s-say will take back...what I did...'

Harry fought to keep his breathing even.

'I...I just...n-need to tell you,' Wormtail went on, his voice sliding into a kind of wheeze, 'b-before...'

'Before what?' Harry asked, but Wormtail gave a pained inhale and arched his back, and Harry felt a sudden sharp pain in his scar. Wormtail moaned and pulled his left arm up to his chest.

'D-don't have much time,' Wormtail gasped. 'I brought him back, Harry...I killed that boy...I took your blood...'

'I know,' Harry snarled.

'Y-you don't...understand,' Wormtail wheezed, and his body began to tremble.

Harry exchanged looks with Hopkirk, who put a firm hand on Wormtail's shoulder.

'What don't I understand?' Harry asked.

'You...h-have to get him...' Wormtail gasped, 't-to the right place...'

'What's wrong with him?' said the Auror, as Wormtail began to convulse.

'Poppy!' Professor Hopkirk called.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked. Wormtail gave a cry and grabbed his left arm with his silver right hand. Harry hissed as his scar flared again.

'Potter, step back!' Madam Pomfrey ordered. 'I need to--'

'No!' Wormtail cried. 'It's...too late...you can't help me...'

He turned his left arm outward, revealing the Dark Mark; it was glowing sickly green and the lines of the Mark had begun to blister.

'Wormtail?' said Harry. 'What's wrong?'

'Poison...' Wormtail croaked. 'He...he p-poisoned my arm...in case I...I tried to t-tell you...'

'Tell me what?' said Harry desperately.

'G-get him...to the room...' Wormtail said, suddenly grabbing onto Harry's shirt. 'It's in the D-department...I worked there once...long ago...a s-secret...'

'What room?' Harry begged. Wormtail let out a huge breath and Harry's scar burned.

'Wormtail, stay with me!' Harry cried. 'What room?'

'Key...' Wormtail rasped. 'In m-my pocket...' His eyes darted down to the shabby jacket he wore; Harry reached into the pocket and extracted a small gold key.

'What door does this key open?' Harry asked.

'Harry, we need to get him some antidote!' Hopkirk urged.

'No!' said Wormtail, and as his body began to convulse harder, he spoke faster. 'Harry,' he said, 'I got out...fooled her...Dumbledore...when I was...in prison...said I could...I could redeem myself...told me to help him...to help you...this key...opens a door...it's the only way to get inside...I've read all about the room...it can destroy him...get him in there...G-ginny...'

Harry, who'd been trying to file away everything Wormtail was telling him, nearly forgot all of it to hear Ginny's name.

'What about Ginny?' Harry asked. 'Where is she?'

'B-Black house,' said Wormtail. 'They're going to...to...' His voice dissolved into a scream as the Mark on his arm began to sizzle.

'Help him!' Harry cried, shoving the key in his pocket and leaping back from the bed, but Wormtail grabbed Harry's wrist. Pomfrey moved forward with a flask of some thick liquid; the Auror tried to hold Wormtail down as Pomfrey attempted to pour the stuff down his throat, but Wormtail began to thrash so hard that the combined attempts of four people to hold him still quickly became useless.

'They'll t-take min...min...' Wormtail stammered. Harry watched in horror as his tongue began to swell. Wormtail coughed and struggled to breathe; Harry's scar was so painful now it was only the adrenaline surging through his body that kept him from passing out.

'Min...' Wormtail gasped. 'Min...attack...t-take control...no law...law enfor...'

His rodent-like eyes suddenly met Harry's; they were filled with fear and regret.

'S-sorry,' Wormtail managed. 'Sor--'

Harry gave a grunt of pain as Wormtail's body suddenly arched on the bed; Wormtail began to gasp for air.

'He can't breathe!' Pomfrey cried, and she took out her wand and began to throw spells on him.

'Harry!' Hopkirk cried, noticing Harry as he doubled over in pain, his scar screaming. Through the haze of pain Harry looked up to see Wormtail give one last, gasping thrash, his tongue blackened and hanging out of his mouth; then Harry felt the floor rush up to meet him, and all was darkness.

* * *

Harry found himself in a large room, surrounded by doors with bright, fiery X's. He knew he had to open one of those doors, but which one? He felt his feet moving, felt his hand slide into the pocket of his jeans and his fingers close around a key...

'Harry?'

He whirled around and nearly stumbled when he saw Ginny standing there.

'Harry?' she said again, her eyes blank. 'Harry...'

'Harry!'

'What?' Harry cried, sitting up sharply. At once he fell back onto some pillows, and it was then that he realized he was in his bed once more, still in the hospital wing.

He blinked and looked up to see Ron, Hermione, Professor McGonagall and Professor Hopkirk all standing over him, looking down at him with concerned eyes. Ron, Hermione and McGonagall all had leaves in their hair and smudges of dirt on their clothes.

'What happened?' he asked.

'You passed out,' said Hopkirk. 'Right when Pettigrew--'

'Wormtail!' said Harry suddenly, sitting up halfway. His scar was still prickling but the pain was far less than it had been. 'What happened to Wormtail?'

'Pettigrew's dead,' said McGonagall.

Harry gaped at her for a moment as he absorbed this news, and then he remembered all that had happened right before he'd blacked out.

'He was poisoned,' said Harry.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk, 'he was. The poison was inside a capsule implanted in the Dark Mark on his arm. It ruptured and the poison seeped into his bloodstream. Given what the poison was, it should have killed him faster but...I'm guessing Voldemort must have tricked it so that it would kill Pettigrew more slowly. It was clearly triggered to go off when Wormtail started trying to talk to you.'

'What was the poison?' Harry asked.

'Strychnine,' said McGonagall. 'Commonly used in rat poison.'

Ron snorted. 'Well, that's appropriate. Who knew Voldemort had a sense of humor?'

'My scar hurt...' Harry mumbled. 'Voldemort must have been happy about Wormtail dying, I guess...'

'That,' said Hopkirk, 'and the fact that Voldemort's own magical signature is found in every Dark Mark. When a Death Eater dies there's a kind of...magical leaching that happens. The magic inside a dying Dark Mark seeps out. That's probably partly why your scar hurt so much. A little bit of Voldemort came out of Pettigrew's scar and likely affected you.'

'Makes sense,' said Harry, and then suddenly something alarmed him. 'Tell me I wasn't passed out for hours this time?'

'About fifteen minutes,' said McGonagall grimly.

'Where is everyone?' Harry asked.

'The younger students have been moved to a secure location,' said McGonagall. 'The older students and the prefects are still helping in the Forest; Hagrid's directing the clean-up efforts. It's...well, it's quite a mess.'

Ron made a small noise in his throat that caught Harry's attention.

'Ron?'

Ron kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Hermione squeezed his upper arm, and looked sadly at Harry.

'Hagrid found a lot of dead centaurs,' she said tightly.

'Oh, no,' said Harry. 'Firenze...'

'Professor Firenze is currently missing,' said McGonagall. 'We were able to save the life of a centaur foal who said he last saw Firenze drawing a giant away from his family. He hasn't been seen since.'

Ron let out a breath and pursed his lips; he looked distinctly upset. Harry was just about to say something reassuring when he remembered Wormtail, and something he'd said...

'Ginny!' said Harry suddenly. 'I know where she is! Wormtail said she's at Black's house. Sirius's house!'

McGonagall didn't say a word; she simply stood up straighter, turned on her heel and marched purposefully to Madam Pomfrey's office.

Ron and Hermione moved closer to Harry's bed.

'Are you sure, about Ginny?' said Ron hopefully.

'I'm positive,' said Harry. 'I mean, that's what Wormtail said. I don't think he was lying, either. I...'

He suddenly felt the realization hit him, like a ton of bricks.

'Dumbledore was right,' said Harry. 'He said...I'd be glad to have let Wormtail go that time...and Dumbledore was right...maybe we can get Ginny back...'

The click of McGonagall's shoes on the stone floor made Harry look up; she crossed the room to his bedside.

'I've sent a message to Madam Bones,' she said. 'They'll send two teams of Aurors straight away, but it might take a little time.'

'Why?' said Ron.

McGonagall let out a sigh. 'There were more attacks. In Diagon Alley. The Leaky Cauldron was burned out and...several other shops destroyed. And a few attacks in some Muggle villages outside Kent.'

'Damn,' Ron muttered. 'I'm not seeing any of this stuff...'

'Distractions,' said Hermione. 'To throw you and everyone else off.'

'Exactly,' said McGonagall. 'I fear we're in for more of this. Attacks by non-humans always seem to create more chaos and the effort required to clean up after them...'

'Merlin,' Harry groaned. 'A lot of people were hurt, weren't they?'

'Yes,' said McGonagall heavily. 'And several deaths as well, I'm afraid.'

'Voldemort must be using every creature he has at his disposal,' said Hopkirk, and then she paused and looked contemplative.

'Minerva, did Madam Bones mention any Death Eaters in the attacks on Diagon Alley?' she asked.

'No,' said McGonagall. 'In fact, she specifically said the attacks didn't involve Death Eaters.'

'Two attacks on the same night, one in the Forest here, and one in Diagon Alley, using non-humans,' said Hopkirk. 'I wonder why no Death Eaters were involved.'

For a moment everyone paused to consider, when Ron's eyes suddenly widened.

'Shit,' he said. 'Of course! It's so simple. The Ministry!'

'What?' said McGonagall.

'The Ministry!' Ron repeated. 'Professor, you said these attacks were distractions. Don't you see? Voldemort's using his dark creatures to draw Aurors and Ministry staff away from the Ministry. He's holding his Death Eaters in reserve so they can go in and--'

'--take over the building,' Hopkirk finished. 'Where was Madam Bones when you spoke with her?'

'At her home,' said McGonagall. 'I caught her just as she was about to leave for Kent, to supervise the clean up.'

'No one's in the Ministry on the weekends,' said Harry, sitting up straighter. 'It'd be easier to get in!' He started to say something else but he felt a sudden buzzing in his brain, as if he were on the brink of discovering something important.

'Even with wards?' said Hermione.

'Wards are breakable,' said McGonagall grimly. 'I'd better get another message to Amelia.'

She was just walking back to Pomfrey's office when Harry bolted out of bed. Everything that Wormtail said came roaring back to him, that and the dream of doors, and suddenly, it made perfect sense.

'Wait!' he called.

McGonagall stopped and turned.

'What is it, Potter?'

'Don't call Madam Bones,' said Harry. 'I have to go to the Ministry.'

'Harry...' said Hermione. Suddenly Harry's scar flared yet again, and he felt a hideous surge of glee that didn't belong to him. A flash of light, and for the briefest moment, Harry saw Ginny being carried down a corridor...

'Harry?' said Hopkirk.

'It's him,' said Harry, wincing. 'He's in. He's inside the Ministry. They've still got Ginny.'

'Oh, dear god...' McGonagall whispered.

'Wormtail,' said Harry. 'He told me right before he died. He kept saying "min"--Ministry! That Voldemort was going to take the Ministry.'

'Yes, we've just established that, Potter,' said McGonagall. 'Now if you don't mind--'

'No!' Harry protested. 'You can't tell Madam Bones yet!'

'And why not?' said McGonagall irritably. 'He's inside the Ministry, Potter! Surely you don't expect me to stand silent when--'

'If Madam Bones sends Aurors to the Ministry, Voldemort will kill Ginny, and anyone else who happens to be inside the building,' said Harry.

'Are you actually suggesting I allow him to take over the Ministry building?' said McGonagall, flabbergasted.

'That's exactly what I'm suggesting,' said Harry.

'Harry, that's crazy!' said Hermione.

'No, it's not,' said Harry. 'This is it. Do you get it? This is it. Dumbledore told me right before he died that I have everything I need. Well, he was right. I do, right now.'

'What do you mean?' said Hermione.

'This,' said Harry, and he reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out the gold key. 'It's a key. Wormtail had it. I don't know how he got it, but it opens a door in the Ministry.'

'A door?' said Hermione. 'How do you know which one?'

'Because I've already seen it,' said Harry. 'That night, in fifth year, the Department of Mysteries. We opened every door in that place...except for one.'

Hermione gasped. 'You think...this key will open the door?'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'But...what's so important about that room?' said Ron.

'Dumbledore told me about this room,' said Harry. 'One that's kept locked all the time. He said...it had a power inside, more powerful than death, and more mysterious than anything. He said that's the power I have. We've spent the whole year trying to figure out the magic behind my mum's sacrifice, how it marked me. We know Voldemort can't stand love. That's what's in that room! That's what I supposedly have that can beat him! Wormtail told me to lure him into that room...this key could open the door...'

He paused. 'Dumbledore,' he said. 'Dumbledore must have given Wormtail the key. That's what Wormtail meant. Dumbledore tried to help Wormtail redeem himself...' Harry broke off, and suddenly felt terribly sad. 'Voldemort didn't let Wormtail go. Wormtail escaped. He...he fooled or tricked a Death Eater--he said he'd "fooled her"-- maybe he managed to get ahold of a wand and cast a spell on her...but he got away and came to Hogwarts to find me...he's given me a way to destroy Voldemort...'

'Whoa,' said Ron. 'Er, Harry...are you sure you can trust...what Wormtail said?'

Harry looked at Ron for a long moment. 'I don't have a choice,' he said. 'I have to go there. Now. I can stop this today. I can end this.'

'Wait,' said Hermione. 'You're saying that all you have to do to beat Voldemort is lure him into this...this love room? How do you expect to do that?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'I haven't figured that out yet. I just know that's what I need to do. If you send a warning to Madam Bones, Professor, I won't be able to do that. I won't be able to get inside without him killing a lot of innocent people, including Ginny. And maybe I'm being selfish, but I can't lose her. None of us can.' He looked at Ron, who pursed his lips again.

For a moment, nobody said anything. Finally, McGonagall sighed.

'You win, Potter,' she said. 'I must be mad to agree to this.'

'Hang on,' said Ron. 'If we're going to do this, let's do this right.'

'What do you mean?' said Harry.

'Look, Harry, maybe it's your destiny or whatever to face down Voldemort on your own, but you can't go in there by yourself,' said Ron. 'Just because Voldemort's got it out for you doesn't mean he won't let his toadies take a shot at you. You need back up.'

'Back up?' said Harry. 'Ron, none of us knows how many Death Eaters are in there, or where in the building they might be. And no way is Voldemort going to let one of his Death Eaters take me out. He's waited too long to get me himself, and anyway, I know what he's going to try to do. He's going to try and use Ginny against me.'

'How?' said Hermione.

'Empathy,' said Harry. 'I wasn't able to tell you before but...I heard Ginny. I felt her. She was in a lot of pain because they're torturing her, but--'

'Are you saying you felt an Empathic connection to Ginny from miles away?' said Hopkirk, looking astonished.

'Yes,' said Harry. 'Voldemort wants to destroy that. He's going to try and force Ginny to kill me, so that I'll kill her. And if that happens...he'll be able to kill me. I know it.'

'Sick bastard,' Ron growled.

'I have to go,' said Harry urgently. 'I have to.'

'Harry, you're not going there by yourself,' Ron insisted. 'Okay, so Voldemort doesn't let other Death Eaters kill you; he might still let them hurt you a lot so you go in wounded. You don't even have a bloody wand, for Merlin's sake!'

'He can use mine,' said Hopkirk.

'Wait, Professor, you can't be serious about letting him go by himself,' said Ron.

'Griselda, really, this isn't--'

'He won't be alone,' said Hopkirk. 'He'll have back up. Myself, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger...and anyone else who wishes to come along. And we won't exactly be going in the front door, so it's not as if Voldemort necessarily needs to be aware we're all there.'

'There's another way inside the Ministry?' Harry asked.

'There are multiple ways inside and out, of course,' said Hopkirk, exchanging looks with McGonagall. 'I happen to know them all.'

'You're joking,' said Harry.

'I'm afraid not,' said Hopkirk. 'You forget the nature of your mother's work, Harry, and my dealings with her. I couldn't exactly move in and out of there without taking a lot of precautions.'

'Does anyone else know about these passages?' said Hermione.

'The Aurors know, I imagine,' said Hopkirk. 'But I didn't find out from them. I found out from James Potter, who if I recall was an Auror trainee. He seems to have quite the knack for knowing where secret passages are.' She smiled enigmatically.

Harry gaped at her. 'Did he make a map?' Somehow the idea of a second magical map seemed too good to be true.

'No,' said Hopkirk, 'I'm afraid not. But he told me, and I have a very good memory. I do have a complete schematic of the building, however. Severus stored some of his Order papers in my office and this was among them.'

'Let's have a look, then,' said Ron eagerly. 'Maybe I can even try and See where they're holed up, give us a bit of an idea where we can move in on them.'

'You're all acting like I am going to allow this!' said McGonagall angrily.

'Professor, please,' said Harry. 'I have to end this now. You know it. I can't hide from him anymore. It's now or never.'

She paused, looking very conflicted. Her normally stern eyes reddened.

'Oh, all right!' she said finally. 'Griselda...'

'I'll take charge of them,' said Hopkirk. 'But maybe we should see if we have any available Aurors to go with us...'

'Fine,' said McGonagall tightly. 'I'll do that. And I'll get Filius to go along, he's always been handy in...in this sort of situation.' She let out a frustrated breath. 'Is that all you need?'

'I think so,' said Hopkirk. 'If you could send everyone to my office, Minerva...'

'I will,' said McGonagall, looking distinctly put out and resigned all at once as she marched out of the hospital wing.

Harry watched her go, and felt his heart pound.

_This is it. I'm going to face him down, and after it's over one of us, at least, is going to be dead._

'Let's go to my office and take a look at that schematic, shall we?' said Hopkirk.

Ron and Hermione nodded at Harry, and they started to follow Hopkirk out of the hospital wing. They had just gone through the doors when they came face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy. His face bore the faint traces of cuts and bruises and he looked pale and tired, but there was a determination glittering in his eyes that Harry had never seen before.

'Malfoy?' said Ron, looking confused and a bit annoyed. 'What are you doing?'

'Going to Professor Hopkirk's office,' said Draco firmly. 'Whatever you've got planned, I want in.'

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again to lina and Buckbeaky! The plot device surrounding Harry and Ginny's Empathic connection is somewhat similar to a plot device in Ann Margaret's story _Hermione Granger and the Beginning of the End_, but this is purely coincidence, as I planned out Harry and Ginny's plotline from the first, before reading Ann's stories.**


	48. Chapter Forty Eight: Two Kings

_Chapter Forty-Eight: Two Kings _

'Were you just eavesdropping?' Hermione asked indignantly, glaring at Draco.

'Yeah, I was, Granger,' said Draco.

'You're not going anywhere,' said Harry. 'Not with us. This doesn't concern you.'

'Bollocks, it doesn't concern me!' Draco protested. 'I was there when she got taken, in case you forgot!'

'Maybe she wouldn't have been taken if you hadn't guilted her into seeing you in the first place!' Harry snarled, advancing on Draco.

'You were the one who didn't pay attention!' Draco retorted.

'Gentlemen,' said Hopkirk severely. 'It's nobody's fault what happened. What matters now is getting Miss Weasley out and stopping Voldemort.' She leveled a penetrating gaze at Draco.

'Are you seriously asking me to believe, Draco, that your interests in accompanying Harry are purely altruistic?' she asked.

Both Ron and Draco snorted at the same time. Draco scowled briefly at Ron but said, 'No. There's also the fact that my father is with them.'

'Of course,' said Ron. 'You want to get revenge on Daddy.'

'And Nott,' Draco growled.

'We don't have time to indulge your little vendettas, Malfoy,' said Harry scathingly.

'Last I checked, Potter, you don't have a wand anymore--' Draco began.

'And he should trust you at his back?' said Ron incredulously.

'Ooh, what's happening?' said a gleeful voice. Peeves the Poltergeist floated down from a chandelier. 'Potter and Malfoy getting ready to fight! Malfoy and Potter, two little rotters...'

Ron opened his mouth to threaten Peeves with a visit from the Bloody Baron, but it was Hopkirk who intervened. She advanced on Peeves and gave a growl, and for a split second, her eyes and skin glowed red, and her teeth became fangs. Ron jumped, but his reaction was nowhere near so frightened as Peeves, who gave a shriek and flew away down the corridor. Draco was gawping at Hopkirk with a mixture of fear and awe.

Hopkirk, meanwhile, went back to normal and watched Peeves fly away before turning to Draco.

'P-professor...' he stammered.

'We're wasting time arguing,' said Hopkirk tightly. 'Let's go to my office to discuss whatever arrangements are needed. Draco can come along.'

'But--' Harry started to protest.

'I want to hear what he has to say,' said Hopkirk. With a sweep of black robes she turned on her heel and marched off in the direction of her office.

Draco stared after her for a moment, and then looked back at Ron, Harry and Hermione. He gave them a smug smile before following Hopkirk.

Harry looked like he wanted to break something as he stormed off after Hopkirk and Draco.

'Great,' Ron muttered, as he and Hermione followed. She opened her mouth to say something--no doubt she was about to attempt to put a positive spin on this latest development--but the look on Ron's face seemed to change her mind.

The group of them headed to Hopkirk's office in a tense silence; when they entered, Hopkirk conjured extra chairs and went to her desk.

'Sit,' she ordered, and Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco all sat down.

'Now,' said Hopkirk, 'Draco. I won't punish you for sticking your nose in Harry's business, but I would like to know why you want to be a part of this.'

'You know why, Professor!' said Ron indignantly.

'I'd like to hear from Draco, please,' said Hopkirk.

Draco glared at Ron, but then spoke. 'Look, I admit, I want to find my father, and Nott.'

'And what, kill them?' said Hopkirk.

'Maybe,' said Draco darkly.

'If that's the case, Draco, then you stay here,' said Hopkirk. 'Harry's right. We don't have time to indulge your personal vendetta. This is a serious situation. The most serious situation Harry will have to face.'

'I know what he's going to try to do,' said Draco furiously. 'Dammit! Look, going after my dad and Nott aren't the only reasons, okay? The Dark Lord...Voldemort...he ordered my father to murder my mother. Dad wouldn't have done that if his boss hadn't...and Voldemort tried to kill me, and he killed Pansy, or at least he ordered someone to kill her...'

Harry's eyes snapped to Draco; Ron was fairly certain Harry had never heard Draco use Voldemort's name; come to think of it, Ron was sure he'd never heard Draco utter it, either. It was this, more than anything, that seemed to give Harry pause.

'What you're saying, Draco, is that you want in because this is personal,' said Hopkirk.

Draco paused, and then said, 'Yes.'

'Are you aware that Harry is the only one who can destroy Voldemort?' said Hopkirk.

'I kind of figured that,' said Draco sarcastically.

'So,' Hopkirk went on, ignoring Draco's snide attitude, 'if I am going to allow you to accompany us you have to swear to me right now that anything you do will be for the benefit of protecting Harry and making sure he fulfills his responsibility.'

'What?' Ron protested. 'Wait a minute!'

'Professor, I don't know about this,' said Harry hesitantly, but Ron was shocked to see that Harry wasn't nearly as indignant about the whole situation as he should be.

'Silence,' said Hopkirk, glowering at Harry and Ron. Ron looked pleadingly at Hermione, but she shook her head and bit her lip. It was no good arguing with Hopkirk.

'As I was saying,' said Hopkirk, moving her eyes back to Draco, 'if I agree to allow you to participate, you must agree to put aside whatever personal designs you have in order to make sure Harry accomplishes what he's required to accomplish.'

'Fine,' said Draco. 'Whatever. As long as Potter finishes him off.'

'You understand, too,' said Hopkirk, 'that you are agreeing to risk yourself for Harry's sake.'

Draco leveled his eyes at Harry, who stared right back at him. Ron watched them both with saucer-wide eyes and a slack jaw.

'Yeah,' said Draco.

'You'll be putting your life on the line,' said Hopkirk.

'Fine,' said Draco again. A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched.

Ron gawped at Harry. 'Harry, you can't seriously think...' Ron began, but his voice trailed off when he saw Harry take a deep breath.

'It has to be up to Harry,' said Hopkirk, sitting back in her chair. 'I'd be happy to include you, but it's his decision in the end.'

Ron was so appalled he was rendered speechless.

Harry let out another breath. 'Why should I trust you?' he said finally.

'Because we both want the same things,' said Draco, 'as horrifying as it might be for us to admit that.'

Ron grimaced as he caught the deeper meaning behind Draco's words.

'You don't want what I want,' said Harry evenly.

Draco clenched his teeth for a moment, but then he said, 'I'm damn good at dueling, and I know some Dark Magic as well. Stuff that could come in handy against them.'

'Okay, that right there,' said Ron, finding his voice, 'is exactly why he shouldn't come. Dark Magic? Yeah, right! That's all we need, an ex-Junior Death Eater going around throwing Unforgivables.'

'Dark Magic has its uses,' said Hopkirk evenly. Ron stared at her.

'You're seriously suggesting he come along?' he said. 'Hermione, back me up here. This is a bad idea.'

Hermione bit her lip again, and Ron now found himself gaping at her.

'Well...' she said hesitantly.

'Come on, Hermione,' Ron begged.

'Ron, Harry doesn't even have a wand,' said Hermione desperately. 'Look, he needs backup--'

'He's got us!' said Ron. 'And Professor Hopkirk, and didn't McGonagall say Flitwick would come along--'

'He can come,' said Harry, in a wary voice.

Ron rounded on Harry. 'What?'

'He can come, Ron,' said Harry, keeping his eyes on Draco. 'He's a good dueler and he owes it to Ginny.'

Draco lowered his eyes for a moment.

Ron was beside himself. 'Harry, when has Malfoy ever done anything for anyone but himself, I ask you? Oh, right, he owes it to Ginny. Sure he does. After you rescue her he'll go right back to bugging her all the time, never leaving the two of you alone--'

'I won't,' Draco protested, but his voice didn't sound all that convincing to Ron.

'He won't,' said Harry firmly, still staring at Draco. 'You come on one condition, Malfoy. After this is over, I don't want you talking to Ginny anymore. Ever. You're out of her life for good.'

Draco screwed up his face. 'You can't dictate--'

'Like hell he can't,' said Ron, taking up the theme. 'Harry's right, Malfoy. If we have to endure your company, you have to leave Ginny alone from here on out.'

'She wanted to help me, I never--'

'Only because you pressured her,' said Harry. 'You knew she'd feel guilty, you took advantage of her.'

Draco opened his mouth as though to retort, but seemed to think better of it. His pale face flushed and he pressed his lips together; a muscle in his jaw twitched.

'Fine,' he said at last, through gritted teeth. 'Whatever.'

'If you're all finished,' said Hopkirk coolly, 'I think it might be wise to take a look at something.'

She reached into her top desk drawer and extracted a very old looking roll of parchment and spread it out on her desk; Ron, Hermione, Harry and Draco all crowded round Hopkirk's desk.

'The page is blank,' said Ron, looking at the piece of parchment Hopkirk had unrolled.

'Not for long,' said Hopkirk. _'Aparecium.'_

Lines began to appear on the parchment; Ron wondered if in fact Hopkirk had created her own version of a Marauder's Map, but then he saw that the map didn't have any dots on it to indicate the presence of people. It looked just like any old map, except that the lines of parchment seemed oddly wavy. Across the top of the piece of parchment was written 'Ninth Floor: Department of Mysteries.'

'Why are the lines all shaking like that?' Hermione asked.

'Technically, the rooms in the Department of Mysteries aren't supposed to appear on a map. I had to do a lot of tweaking to make them show up,' Hopkirk explained. The map showed a layout of the rooms Ron, Harry and Hermione had been in only two years ago, fighting for their lives. A large, central room that branched off to smaller rooms, which were crudely labeled in her distinct, angular hand:

_DEATH.__ UNIVERSE. TIME. HEART. BRAIN. PROPHECY._

Ron watched as Harry's fingers drifted over the room labeled 'death.'

'That's not the room you want,' said Hopkirk quietly, her eyes on Harry.

Harry looked up at her for a moment, and swallowed. 'I know,' he said.

Hopkirk let her gaze linger on Harry as she unfurled a second piece of parchment; this looked to be a massive map of London.

'Muggle London,' said Hopkirk, and she tapped the parchment and muttered something under her breath. Faintly glowing points appeared on the map.

'The Ministry is roughly here, just west of the City,' said Hopkirk, pointing to a spot on the map. She then pointed to another glowing spot, located south of the Ministry. 'This,' she said, 'is the entrance to a tunnel that leads to the first floor of the Ministry.'

'Elephant and Castle?' said Hermione.

'What?' said Ron.

'It's an Underground station,' said Hopkirk. 'See this route here?' She pointed her wand at a thin brown line that went from the train station to the Ministry.

'Yeah,' said Ron.

'That's the Bakerloo line,' said Hopkirk. 'This is the Embankment stop--closest to the Ministry.'

'That's where your dad and I went when I had my disciplinary hearing,' said Harry, looking at Ron.

'One of the tunnels on the Bakerloo line, from Elephant and Castle to Embankment, collapsed a few decades ago,' Hopkirk said. 'Muggle officials took engineers inside to try and repair it, but they decided against it; said it was simply too unstable to bother with, and built a whole new tunnel instead, about ten feet to the right of the original. The original was sealed off.'

'And the Ministry decided to use it,' said Hermione.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'It wasn't meant to be used by the whole Ministry staff, just the Aurors who were working undercover. Aurors needed a way to get into the Ministry without being seen. This tunnel was one such way inside. It branches off into two paths. One leads right to the second floor, the Auror headquarters. The other...to the Department of Mysteries on the ninth floor. The Aurors did a lot of work with some of the researchers in the Department; it made sense to be able to go directly to them if they found physical or magical evidence of a crime, evidence that they themselves couldn't readily detect or translate. That's part of what Lily Potter did: she'd translate magical signatures and help determine who was responsible for casting illegal spells.'

'Wow,' said Ron, impressed. 'Your mum must have been pretty brilliant, Harry.'

Harry suppressed a smile as Hopkirk said, 'She was, quite.'

There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause, and then Hopkirk cleared her throat and continued.

'Another secret entrance is here.'

She pointed to St. Mungo's Hospital. 'There's a tunnel leading from the basement level of the hospital that goes directly to level three, where the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad is, the Obliviator Headquarters, etcetera. That way if an undercover Auror had an injury he could go to hospital, get treated, and easily get back to make a report, again without drawing attention to himself. He could also bring any Muggle witnesses, wipe their memories and take them back out again more easily.

'Then there's a third tunnel leading from The Leaky Cauldron to the Atrium,' she went on, 'but apparently it was only for emergencies. And here'--she indicated King's Cross station--'is a lift on Platform 9¾ that takes you to a back entrance to the Atrium, only that back entrance was sealed off ages ago. Not very securely, if my information is correct, but people stopped using it. The most commonly used passage was this one.'

She indicated the Elephant and Castle train stop.

'There is a problem, however,' said Hopkirk.

'What do you mean?'

'The Bakerloo tunnel hasn't been used in years,' said Hopkirk. 'According to James Potter, the Ministry was always changing around its network of tunnels and access ways, for security purposes. When a new tunnel was created and an old one put out of use, Aurors had to be Obliviated so as not to reveal anything. Your dad, Harry, only managed to tell me about those three entrances. They went out of use a few months after he told me about them. He broke about eight laws just telling Lily and me about them.'

'Was Dad found out?' Harry asked.

'No,' said Hopkirk. 'But he was Obliviated a few months after telling Lily and me. We never brought it up with him; neither of us wanted to compromise his safety or his position in the training program. I did keep using the Bakerloo tunnel, just to get to Lily when I needed to, but it quickly became clear to me why the tunnel wasn't being used anymore, apart from the Ministry's need to keep from using one particular tunnel for too long.'

'What was that?' said Hermione.

'The structure of it truly was unsound,' said Hopkirk. 'Even with magic holding it up, you couldn't count on going in there without a piece of the ceiling falling down. I nearly got killed a few times, just moving through it. I'm guessing the magic holding it up now is a lot weaker, which means the tunnel would be even more dangerous.'

'Lovely,' Draco muttered.

Everyone ignored him. Instead Ron asked the question that was troubling him most.

'Is it possible that Voldemort knows about these tunnels?'

'Quite possible,' said Hopkirk, 'but I think it's safe to assume that he wouldn't suspect us of using the Bakerloo tunnel.'

'Wait, you want us to sneak in there using that?' said Draco.

'How can we be sure Voldemort won't have that tunnel ambushed?' Hermione asked, as everyone continued to ignore Draco.

'Harry and I could both try and find out,' said Ron, glancing at Harry. Even if Voldemort knew Ron was a Seer, he didn't feel like broadcasting it to Draco Malfoy.

'That's probably a wise step,' said Hopkirk. 'In the meantime--'

There was a sudden, sharp knock on Hopkirk's door, and Ron suddenly became aware of the rumble of many voices, all talking at once.

'Yes?' Hopkirk called warily.

'Griselda!' came the squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick. 'Could you please...'

Hopkirk gave her wand a wave and her door opened. Ron expected to see the tiny Flitwick stride into the room. Based on the other voices Ron had heard, he expected to also see a few Aurors and possibly a few teachers.

What he saw standing in the doorway were Flitwick, McGonagall, Professor Sinistra, and standing just outside the door, about ten Aurors and what looked to be a few dozen students. McGonagall looked to be extremely frustrated.

'Minerva?' said Hopkirk, getting up from her chair.

'Professor!' Neville Longbottom cried, shoving his way past a few Aurors into her office. 'We heard something about Harry and...and You-Know-Who--'

'That will do, Mr. Longbottom!' said McGonagall shrilly. 'Honesty, Griselda, I tried to get them to stay put in their common rooms but Merlin forbid anyone listen to me!'

'Children, please!' squeaked Flitwick, jumping up and down. 'This is not a job for you, it's for us and the Aurors to--'

'With all due respect, Professor Flitwick, that's bollocks,' said Blaise Zabini firmly, as he, too, shoved his way forcibly into the room. 'We're not children, we're all of age here, we know what's going on, and if Potter's going to do this he needs all the help he can get.'

'That's right!' came a familiar voice from just outside. Ron saw a flash of auburn hair, and realized Susan Bones was speaking.

'Wait, wait,' Harry called, raising his voice over the din, 'no, you guys can't come along, it's too dangerous--'

'I think,' said Luna Lovegood, as she, too, entered the room (although she seemed to float in, as opposed to jostling herself through the crowd), 'that it would be wise for you to have as much help as possible, Harry.'

'Hear, hear!' yelled Ernie MacMillan.

'But...' Harry protested weakly.

'Professor McGonagall, you really shouldn't let students be involved in this,' said James Marchbanks.

'I know what I shouldn't do,' McGonagall snapped. 'But you try dissuading twenty-five students who are as stubborn and determined as this lot!'

'QUIET, PLEASE!' Hopkirk suddenly bellowed, so that everyone jumped. She let out a breath. 'Before everything gets out of hand, might I make the suggestion that everyone come inside in an orderly fashion, so that we might work this out?'

'Griselda...' said McGonagall.

'Professor...' Harry countered.

But Hopkirk ignored both of them; instead she lifted her wand, muttered a few spells, and Ron saw her office change before his eyes. It grew significantly larger in dimension, and several rows of benches suddenly appeared.

'Much better,' said Hopkirk. 'Now, would all of you please come in, single file and quietly, and take a seat?'

'Griselda, I must insist--' Professor McGonagall began.

'I think you're going to be overruled here, Minerva,' said Hopkirk evenly, as Aurors began to seat themselves on the benches, followed by the students.

In addition to Ernie, Susan, Neville, Luna, and Blaise, Ron saw Colin Creevey, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Morag McDougal, Mandy Brocklehurst, Lisa Turpin, Michael Corner, Hannah Abbott, Zacharias Smith, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Eloise Midgen, the Hufflepuff Seeker, Nigel Summerby, Daphne Greengrass, and another Slytherin girl he knew as Tracey Davis.

Seated in front of them were James Marchbanks, Mary Stebbins, and eight other Aurors Ron only vaguely recognized. It was the last person to enter the room, however, that got Ron's undivided attention.

'Professor Snape?' said Harry and Hermione together.

'Sir,' said Draco, in a voice Ron took to be genuinely respectful.

'What are you doing here?' Ron blurted.

'Tactful as ever, Weasley,' said Snape, scowling as he sat down next to Professor Sinistra.

'All right, everyone!' McGonagall called, bringing about silence in the room. She opened her mouth to speak, but then her eyes settled on the crowd in the magically enlarged room, and seemed to think better of it. Instead she threw up her hands and said, 'You deal with this, Griselda.'

Professor Hopkirk, unruffled, simply nodded.

'Well,' she said, her eyes moving over the room, 'this is a bit of a surprise. I suppose I was naive to forget how quickly news travels in this school.'

'Please, ma'am,' said Neville, 'we want to help Harry--'

'No, Neville--'

'What makes you think you all could help Harry?' Hopkirk interjected.

Neville flushed; he clearly hadn't been expected to explain himself. He opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, rather like a fish, when Blaise Zabini intervened.

'Potter has to take on You-Know-Who by himself, but that doesn't mean he can go in by himself, does it?'

'No, Mr. Zabini,' Hopkirk agreed, 'which is why I've asked some Aurors and a few teachers to accompany us.'

'That won't be good enough,' said Blaise. Hermione looked somewhat shocked, and McGonagall looked affronted, but Hopkirk simply raised her eyebrows.

'The combined efforts of ten highly-trained Aurors and several fully qualified magical teachers won't be enough protection for Mr. Potter?' she said coolly.

'No,' said Blaise, 'not if we want to do real damage to his network.'

'What Mr. Zabini is trying to say,' Professor Snape said, 'is that it may take more than Potter destroying the Dark Lord in order to be successful. It has been some time since I was in the company of his top lieutenants, but I can tell you, many of them are powerful and ambitious in their own right. Some will crumble if the Dark Lord falls, yes, but there are others who might have designs on...taking his place, now they have nothing to lose.'

Snape's black eyes fell on Draco, who swallowed. Ron knew at once Snape was referring to Lucius Malfoy. Ron, who hadn't bothered to sit down, found his eyes drawn to the maps Hopkirk had unfolded.

'I see your point, Severus,' said Hopkirk, 'but if our goal is to enter the Ministry in secret I hardly see how this can be accomplished with so many people.'

'There could be people inside the Ministry who are hostages,' Harry said. 'If they see us coming they...they might kill those people.'

'That could be a risk we have to take, Potter,' said Snape coldly. 'In a war situation casualties are to be expected. This is about achieving the greater good, is it not?'

'Excuse me, sir,' said Harry acidly, 'but I don't see the greater good in a bunch of people dying just so I can get a shot at Voldemort.'

'That's always been your problem, Potter,' said Snape irritably. 'You'll never learn, will you, to keep your emotions--'

'Severus,' said Hopkirk quietly. Ron looked up to see her staring at Snape, and her eyes flashed briefly red. Snape glared at her, and then at Harry, but he went quiet.

'I am inclined to agree with Harry on this, Severus,' said Hopkirk. 'We need to keep our eyes on the prize, as it were. I don't think we need to be risking the lives of students.'

'But Professor--' Blaise protested. Ron's eyes stayed on the maps as the first strands of an idea began to form in his mind.

'Then there is the issue of protecting the school,' said Hopkirk. 'Leaving the castle all but empty is practically inviting an attack.'

'With respect, Professor,' said Anthony Goldstein, 'the school can be rebuilt. I'm a bit more concerned, myself, with ending this thing as soon as possible.'

'So am I,' said Padma Patil.

'Us, too,' said Ernie MacMillan, earning nods from his fellow Hufflepuffs.

'I don't want anyone else getting hurt that doesn't have to get hurt,' said Harry vehemently.

'We've all of us been hurt already, Harry,' said Susan Bones quietly. 'In various ways.' Ron saw she and Harry exchanged a pained gaze, but Ron, for his part, was already in agreement with the other students. He didn't want Harry going in with minimal back-up, and despite what Hopkirk might think...

'They're right, Harry,' said Ron, standing up straight. Half of him cringed at what he was about to do, but the other half of him knew it was the only thing to do. He looked at Hermione, who was chewing her lower lip with worry, but she nodded. She understood, and she was supporting him.

Ron cleared his throat and looked at McGonagall and Hopkirk.

'Headmistress, Professor,' he said, his voice wavering just slightly, 'the Head Boy and Girl are supposed to be representatives of the student body. Well...the student body wants to get involved, and we agree.'

'Ron,' Harry hissed. 'What are you doing?'

Ron ignored him, and went on, feeling suddenly as though his insides had disappeared and been replaced by a giant bubble of air. He felt himself grab Hermione's hand, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

'We're aware of the risk involved,' he said, his voice growing a bit steadier. 'Everyone in this room has suffered in some way. It's...it's personal for everyone. Helping Harry isn't just...helping Harry. It's helping all of us, and our friends and our families. Everyone in this room is of age, too, so...legally speaking, yeah, maybe we're still students but we do have a say for ourselves. And we say...we're going. Because...because I don't want to keep living in a world where we have to always look over our shoulder...and Muggles get attacked just because they're Muggles, and I want my sister back safe and sound and...I want us all to have a future...and...stuff like that...'

_Oh, lovely, Weasley. You are truly the epitome of eloquence. _

'We can't have a future if the Death Eaters regroup,' Blaise piped up, saving Ron from further embarrassing himself.

'Harry needs our help,' said Neville fervently. 'And Ginny needs our help.'

'You are not...soldiers!' McGonagall protested.

'We might as well be, with the training Professor Hopkirk's given us,' said Terry Boot.

'Yes, but--'

'Professor,' James Marchbanks interrupted, 'normally I'd never be for this but...we're talking about the Ministry itself. There aren't enough Aurors to get inside and take it back, not with all the other attacks going on. This might be our only chance. Maybe the students aren't Aurors, but they're all pretty good in a fight.'

'This is our chance to take the fight to them,' said Blaise, impassioned. 'Before they bring it back to us again.'

'We could have Aurors and a teacher with each group,' Hermione suggested. 'Put someone in charge of each group who's more experienced.'

'I don't believe this,' said McGonagall, shaking her head.

'This all sounds very good in theory but...'

Ron was no longer listening, because at that very moment, as he looked down again at the maps on Hopkirk's desk, he was possessed by the strangest feeling. It was a vision--he saw the various corridors in the Ministry, saw students and Aurors and teachers alternately moving quietly through them--and yet it wasn't, because Ron didn't feel the usual detachment from his surroundings. He no longer heard the voices of the arguing students and teachers. He heard Firenze's voice, telling him something important just before he'd galloped off into the Forest. He saw Hermione mixing Harry's potion, with tears on her face. He saw an unfamiliar door in the Ministry opening up to the Atrium. He saw a dark tunnel with a rotting ceiling and chunks of plaster falling. He saw Harry sliding a key into a lock, and opening a door. He saw blood on his own hands, and saw himself giving Harry his wand. He saw the gleam of a sword blade flashing, and heard Voldemort's screams. He saw Ginny in a familiar looking chamber, standing on a daïs in front of an archway with a billowing black veil. He saw Death Eaters guarding corridors, standing outside rooms. He saw trolls and what looked like vampires. He saw the entire floor plan of the Ministry in stark detail.

And then suddenly there was a gigantic chessboard, upon which stood all the players: Harry, Ron, Hermione, the other students, the teachers, the Aurors on one side. Harry was the King, Hermione the Queen, Ron a Knight; they were surrounded by students, teachers and Aurors. On the other side stood Voldemort, the King of Darkness, with Lucius Malfoy, his Knight and the Queen...she was unseen beneath heavy black robes and a hood.

And suddenly, everything was starting to make sense. It wasn't totally clear yet--he knew there was something he was still missing, something about what Firenze had told him--but Ron finally was beginning to understand, at least, how things might play out.

'It's chess,' said Ron, in a distant voice, as the visions and voices faded from his mind.

'What?' said Hopkirk, caught off guard.

'Ron?' said Hermione, gazing at him. 'Did you...was that...'

'It's chess,' Ron repeated. 'This whole thing. Chess.'

'What are you talking about, Mr. Weasley?' said McGonagall impatiently.

'They've made all the moves they can make now,' Ron went on. 'They've checked us, and it's Harry's move. They can't do anything until Harry moves.'

'Would you mind translating that, Mr. Weasley, so those of us who don't avail ourselves of chess might have some idea what you're talking about?' said Snape sarcastically.

Ron blinked, and came out of his half-reverie state.

'They're expecting Harry to make a move,' he said. 'They think Harry will show up, either alone or with just a few people--Hermione and me, most likely. Voldemort assumes his Death Eaters will protect him--that's what you do for a king, right? They take us out and our king, Harry, is left alone and defenseless. That's what all those attacks were about. To use up our pieces--our resources--and leave Harry without much in the way of defenses. They're not expecting us to have any real moves left, or to have any pieces.'

'But...we do have pieces?' said Neville hesitantly.

'Yeah, lots of them,' said Ron. 'All of us. That's why we all have to go. Zabini's got it right--the Death Eaters can't be allowed to regroup again. We have to take them down and leave Voldemort without any outside defenses. In chess, a king is always vulnerable without his soldiers. Voldemort might be really powerful, but Harry is, too, and if we back Harry up...we can beat them all. That's our job, then. To protect Harry for as long as we can, and take down Voldemort's defenses.'

Harry gaped at Ron, speechless. Hermione was smiling at him.

Hopkirk, however, looked mildly impressed.

'All right, Weasley,' she said. 'You're starting to convince me. But how are we supposed to accomplish this?'

Ron swallowed. Once again he felt himself in the hot seat, but he felt more confident now. A plan was in his mind.

'Okay,' he said. 'Could I just use these?' He indicated the maps on Hopkirk's desk.

'Of course.'

Ron took a deep breath, and pointed his wand at the maps. He levitated them to stay open and flat, and then enlarged them, so that everyone could see them.

'Okay,' Ron said again. 'There are five secret entrances to the Ministry. This one here'--he pointed to St. Mungo's--'is in the basement of the hospital, and it leads to the third level in the Ministry. This one'--he indicated the King's Cross tunnel--'goes to a back entrance on the Atrium level. That entrance has been sealed off for a while, but it'll open if we try it.'

'How do you know?' said Zacharias Smith dubiously.

'I just know,' said Ron, glancing at Harry, who still looked a bit stunned, but who nodded all the same.

'Anyway,' Ron went on, 'the third entrance is in The Leaky Cauldron. That one's a bit obvious, but we might as well use it. It goes to the front entrance of the Atrium. If we use both entrances to the Atrium we could head off whatever's in there from both sides.'

'You...you think there'll be Death Eaters in there?' said Colin Creevey.

'Pretty sure,' said Ron, 'along with some other nasties.'

'Vampires?' said Seamus and Dean eagerly.

'Actually, yeah,' said Ron. 'I mean, I think so.'

'How do you know all this stuff?' said Michael Corner.

'What, are you a Seer now, Weasley, is that it?' said Draco Malfoy sarcastically.

'Moving along,' said Hopkirk firmly. 'You were saying, Ron?'

'Er, right,' said Ron, suddenly aware that half the room was looking at him through narrowed eyes. Ron glanced at Draco, whose sarcastic expression had melted away, to be replaced by one of disbelief.

'So,' Ron said loudly, desperately hoping to keep the subject off himself and onto the plan, 'two groups go to the Atrium level, one through King's Cross--there's a lift there that you take--and one through The Leaky Cauldron. A third group takes the St. Mungo's tunnel. Then there's this tunnel'--Ron pointed to the Bakerloo tunnel--'and it splits off in two directions. One fork goes to level two in the Ministry, and the other goes to level nine. Level nine is where Harry needs to go.'

'There's a secret entrance to the Ministry in an Underground tunnel?' said Anthony. 'No kidding.'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'I think...well, two groups here in this tunnel. Only...'

'Only what?' said Eloise Midgen.

'Well, the tunnel's pretty dangerous,' said Ron. 'Chunks of ceiling keep falling down inside it.'

'And this is the tunnel you want Potter to venture into?' said Snape, rolling his eyes. 'Suppose he's flatted by an errant piece of falling plaster before he even gets where he needs to go?'

'That entrance is the quickest and most direct route to level nine,' Hopkirk countered. 'Dangerous it may be, but it's no worse than trying to sneak through six or seven levels and being confronted with Death Eaters. Surely you'll agree with me there, Severus.'

Snape grumbled something under his breath, but nodded grudgingly. Ron scowled. Why hadn't the damn Potions Master stayed in a coma?

'Anyway,' said Ron, 'I figure if we're really careful and alert, we'll make it through that tunnel just fine. And once we're inside, we just...make sure we take down as many Death Eaters and whatever else as we can.'

'That's it?' said Smith. 'That's your brilliant plan?'

'No,' said Ron defensively, although for a moment he froze, realizing that, in fact, he hadn't really thought about what else they might do once they were all inside. But then something occurred to him. An idea of Bill's they'd used, last year in the Riddle House.

'I was thinking we ought to Disillusion ourselves,' he said.

'Excuse me?' said Smith.

'He means to use Disillusionment Charms,' said Snape, rolling his eyes. 'And as much as I am loathe to admit it, that's not an entirely ridiculous idea.'

'None of this sounds like a bad plan,' said James Marchbanks, 'but if we're going to do this, we need to do this right. Aurors always take emergency potion supplies with them. I think everyone should do this.'

'Good idea,' said Hopkirk. 'Make a list of what you carry, Marchbanks, and we'll try to get as much as we can.'

'There's also the matter of communication,' said Mary Stebbins. 'Typically when Aurors are out on a field assignment we've put a Communicare Charm in place, on some personal, inanimate item, like a watch or necklace. The Charm allows the object to function rather like a Muggle two-way radio.'

'That way if something goes wrong,' said another Auror, 'everyone at least knows everyone else's status.'

'The problem is,' said yet another Auror, a witch, 'that most of us here only know the rudimentary charm. We don't know if we can make it strong enough to work underground, at great distances.'

'I can do those charms for you,' said Flitwick. 'And Miss Granger's quite handy at them.'

Everyone looked right at Hermione, whose cheeks turned pink.

'You are?' said Harry.

'You are?' said Ron.

'Oh, yes,' said Flitwick enthusiastically. 'Her charm works over distances nearly as great as mine does, actually. It's quite impressive.'

Hermione was turning red now.

'I'll say,' said Ron. 'Wow.'

'When did you get good at those?' said Harry.

'I've just been practicing in my spare time,' said Hermione, shrugging and blushing more deeply. 'I...I figured it might come in handy sometime.'

She looked up at Ron, and he understood. Of course. It was a way for her to know where he was, and how he was, whenever he went out on an Auror assignment.

'One more thing,' said Mary Stebbins. 'Maps. Maybe you could replicate those, Professor Hopkirk, and make sure we all have a floor plan of the Ministry.'

'Absolutely,' said Hopkirk.

'Well,' said McGonagall, standing up and taking authority once more, 'it seems this...plan will go forward. However, given that it is now daylight I don't believe we ought to be rushing off any time soon. I might not know much about law enforcement or...or Auror tactics but surely a nighttime...initiation is safer.'

'With that in mind,' said Flitwick, 'if you all would stop by my office and do bring some kind of item with you, such as a watch or piece of jewelry. Miss Granger, would you...'

'Yes, Professor,' said Hermione. 'Ron, Harry, I'll see you at lunch?'

'Lunch?' said Ron. 'Why not breakfast?'

'Communicare Charms take a while to do,' said Hermione.

'Okay,' said Ron, 'but make sure you eat some breakfast.' She smiled and pecked him on the cheek before turning and leaving with Flitwick.

Harry pursed his lips; he looked terribly impatient. Ron understood all too well why Harry wanted to move _now_. Ginny was in Voldemort's hands. There was no telling what he would do to her between now and sunset.

On the other hand, Ron knew in his heart and soul that he was right: Voldemort would do nothing drastic before Harry made a move. Ginny would be alive when they entered the Ministry. Whether she stayed that way...

Ron didn't want to think about that.

The impromptu meeting suddenly seemed to be breaking up. James Marchbanks went to Hopkirk. Hopkirk, who was conversing with Snape, turned and took a piece of parchment from the Auror's hand. She said something to James, nodded at him, and then handed the parchment to Snape who scrutinized it. The Potions Master pointed at the parchment a few times and shook his head, but then would point at something else and nod.

'Before everyone rushes off,' Hopkirk called suddenly, 'let's be sure to meet here after dinner, at seven o'clock.'

There was a lot of muttering and nodding. Snape walked up to Harry.

'Well, Potter,' he said, 'your moment has come at last.'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry.

'How are you on Occlumency?' Snape asked coolly.

'Better than you now,' said Harry evenly.

Snape's jaw twitched, but then he sneered. 'Good, because you'll need it. Not just to defend against the Dark Lord, mind you, but against whatever he'll have done to Miss Weasley.'

Ron was saved from launching himself at Snape by virtue of preventing Harry from doing the same; Snape clucked his tongue and moved off, but not before stopping and talking to Draco Malfoy. Draco turned and glanced at Harry and Ron once, before following Snape out the door.

'Why couldn't he have just stayed in a coma?' Harry muttered.

'He had to wake up some time,' said Hopkirk, who had apparently moved up beside Harry without being heard. Both Harry and Ron jumped.

'Harry, I'll want you to stay here for a bit,' she said. 'I'd like to do some last minute tweaking with the potion.'

'What can I do?' Ron asked.

'You can get some sleep,' said Hopkirk. 'You haven't slept in over twenty-four hours.'

Ron automatically started to protest, but then realized Hopkirk was right: he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. Hearing this fact aloud suddenly made Ron feel utterly exhausted.

'Harry needs rest, too,' said Ron weakly, already thinking about falling face-first onto his inviting bed.

'He'll get it,' said Hopkirk. 'You go on.'

Ron nodded and stifled a sudden yawn. 'I'll see you later, mate?' he said.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Get some rest, I'll be fine.'

Ron held Harry's gaze for a moment. He felt like he was missing something, like there was something important he should be telling Harry, something about the vision he'd just had, but it wouldn't come to him. Instead, Ron nodded, and took his leave, the details of his vision poking at his brain.

* * *

_   
'Finish it, Harry...'_

_'I can't just leave you here!'_

_'Yes, you can, you have to! Take my wand, take the sword and go on. I'll be fine, okay? I promise. But you have to finish it...there's no other way...'_

_'Ron! Help me!'_

_'Hermione...'_

_'He's not breathing...oh my god...help me...Harry!'_

Ron sat up sharply, breathing hard. He blinked. Where was he? What had just happened? There was deep golden sunlight filtering into the room.

_My room.__ I'm in my room. _

Ron blinked again and wiped a hand over his face; he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and looking out his window, he suddenly realized the sun was setting in the distance. Panicking, he checked his watch, and was confused to see that it was not on his wrist. He looked at the small clock on his nightstand. It was just past six o'clock.

He groaned. He ought to feel more refreshed, but somehow he felt worse. He felt like he'd taken an overdose of sleeping potion; he was groggy and unfocused. He looked at his clock again, wondering where his watch could have gotten to, and cursed himself. Not only had he forgotten to go to Flitwick's office for a Communicare Charm, he'd slept through the whole day, wasting the opportunity to meditate. He wondered what Firenze would say about that, and then he remembered Firenze was missing. He scowled; thinking about Firenze left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Then he remembered the fragments of the dream. It was just voices. His voice, telling Harry to finish it. Ron had a perfectly clear idea of what that meant now, so that part didn't faze him. No, it was the other part of the dream, Hermione's desperate voice. She had screamed that he wasn't breathing...that Harry wasn't breathing...

_No. Tell me that's not...Harry can't...it won't happen! I can't let that happen!_

Ron fought down a wave of panic and forced himself to breathe. He needed to clear his head, and the only thing for it was a shower. He then heard his stomach growl, and just as he was about to resign himself to going down to the kitchens, he saw the tray of food on his desk. It glowed softly from a Warming Charm, and sticking out from under the tray was a small piece of parchment. Ron tugged on it and pulled it from beneath the tray. It was a note from Hermione.

_'Ron,_

_'When you didn't show up at Flitwick's office right away for the charm I figured you must have gone to get some sleep. I took your watch to his office and he set the charm for you, and then I brought it back. The beauty of this charm is that you don't need a wand to make it work. That's why it's so hard to master. To make the charm work, you just tap your watch with your index finger and say _"Confabulari"_ (stress on the 'ar'--make it nice and long); to listen, tap your watch again and say _"Audire."

_'I asked Dobby to send you some food. I gave him a little extra money so don't poke fun at me later for asking a house elf to help. I've gone to get some sleep myself. I'll see you at dinner and if not, in Hopkirk's office._

_'I love you._

_'Hermione.'_

Ron smiled and shook his head. He wished Hermione would spend as much time taking care of herself as she took care of him; she needed sleep as much as he did. Ron then caught the scent of roast beef and potatoes, and he decided he might as well eat.

Fifteen minutes later, he jumped in the shower, and fifteen minutes after that, he was dressed and shaved, and, he thought, in desperate need of a haircut, given the way his fringe was starting to hang in front of his eyes, but there wasn't time for that. It was getting close to seven o'clock, and Ron wanted to get to Hopkirk's office early.

Ten minutes later, he was there, seated near the front of the still-enlarged room that was again crowded with benches. Finding a seat had proved more difficult than Ron thought, given that everyone else seemed to have the same idea of getting to Hopkirk's office early. By now the sun was sinking in the horizon to the west, casting a pinkish-gold glow in the room. Hermione and Harry had come separately and took seats on either side of him, and to Hermione's right were Neville and Luna.

Hopkirk came in next, followed by the other teachers, including Hagrid--who had to duck down just to get through the door--Professor Vector, Professor Sprout, Madam Hooch and Madam Pince, and the ten Aurors, including Mary Stebbins and James Marchbanks. Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey--who looked deeply upset about what was going on--came in wheeling carts laden with little flasks of potions. Professors Sinistra and Flitwick were engaged in some kind of conversation--Sinistra bent low over Flitwick, straining to hear his squeaky voice above the din. Even Mr. Filch was there, scowling and holding on to Mrs. Norris, who mewed every now and again.

The real surprise, though, was in whom else had shown up. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Bill and Charlie were there. Ron couldn't believe his two older brothers were there. Why wasn't Bill with his pregnant wife, who was due any day? Why hadn't Charlie gone back to Romania yet? What were they playing at? Ron gave them an incredulous look, and they both smiled and shrugged.

Then there was none other than Peeves the Poltergeist, who was, for once, floating quietly and looking uncharacteristically serious beneath his bowler hat.

'If I could have everyone's attention, please?' said Professor McGonagall, who had taken a position next to Hopkirk in front of the Defense professor's desk. The room quickly fell quiet.

'Let me start by saying, from the standpoint of my job as Headmistress,' said McGonagall stiffly. 'I do not think it is right for students to be taking such risks, when it is my job as Headmistress to do all I can to protect you.'

Murmurs began in the crowd, but McGonagall held up her hand.

'On the other hand,' she said, and her voice wavered just a bit, 'speaking as someone who lived through...Voldemort's first reign of terror...'

The crowd gasped to hear McGonagall use Voldemort's name, but Harry smiled at McGonagall.

'...I believe it is vital that we do all we can to help...Mr. Potter,' she finished, and her eyes became red-rimmed and shiny with unshed tears. She cleared her throat.

'Tonks, if you please,' she said, and she motioned to Tonks.

'We're here because we received word from Mr. Marchbanks,' said Tonks. 'Numerous other attacks have started up in other parts of the country and Aurors are dealing with those. It's been a hell of a few days.'

'Does Madam Bones know?' Harry asked tightly. 'About this?'

'Not yet,' said Tonks. 'And neither does Kingsley, by the way. We've had to do quite a lot of fancy footwork to keep her from figuring out exactly what's going on, and I'll probably be out of a job this time next week. It's just our good luck that You-Know-Who's crew haven't breathed a word yet, and it helps that it's a weekend and the Prophet is busy covering all those other attacks. Once word of this does get out, it could get hairy. So if we can finish this tonight, so much the better.

'In looking at this plan to get inside,' Tonks continued, 'it's not bad, but it needed a bit of refining. That's why I'm here, by the way.' She leveled her gaze at Harry. 'James contacted me and told me what was going on, and asked for me to come. None of the Aurors here have worked inside the Ministry building--they've spent all their time here. I work there, so I know the place in and out. Plus, I was able to check out those entrances to the passages. They're still workable.

'So, the plan,' Tonks went on. 'There are twenty-eight students, ten teachers and ten Aurors not including me. We also have three...civilians, for lack of a better word.' She nodded at Bill, Charlie, and then at Lupin.

'Now, we want a minimum security detail to stay behind at the school,' said Tonks. 'Hagrid's agreed to stay behind--'

At this Hagrid gave a little whimper, and Ron turned to see the half-giant's chin, or rather his bushy black beard, begin to tremble.

'--and with the cooperation of the various creatures in the Forest, they'll keep an eye on the grounds. Mr. Filch, Professor Sprout and Peeves, along with some security trolls, will keep watch on the castle.'

'Peeves?' Ron hissed under his breath. 'No way.'

Other students were murmuring and pointing at Peeves, who bowed and swept off his hat.

'Won't let the nasties burn down Hoggy-warts!' he shouted. 'Only I am allowed to destroy Hoggy-warts--'

'That will do, Peeves,' said McGonagall quickly. Peeves, to everyone's great shock, shut up.

'That leaves the rest of us,' Tonks went on. 'Three groups of seven students each, with one teacher and one Auror. Group One is lead by Madam Hooch and Auror Marchbanks, and will take the King's Cross entrance. Group Two is lead by Auror Stebbins and Professor Flitwick. You lot will do The Leaky Cauldron. Group Three does St. Mungo's and is lead by Auror Branstone and Professor Sinistra.

'That leaves two smaller groups for Bakerloo. Group Four--you'll be exiting onto the second floor. Three students and two teachers: Professor Snape, Professor Vector. No Aurors. Four students for Group Five--that's Harry's group and that's including Harry, plus Professor Hopkirk and Remus Lupin.

'A sixth group made up of Aurors and two very stubborn and obnoxious redheads whose names I won't mention will go in through the front door and try to draw the Death Eater's fire.'

'What?' said Ron, appalled. 'Bill, are you mad? Charlie--'

'Hold your protests until the end,' said Tonks, holding up a hand. 'There are other specifics we need to get down here. All of you should be wearing a piece of jewelry that's been worked over with a Communicare Charm, correct?'

There was a general flood of nods and affirmative murmurs.

'Good,' said Tonks. 'You'll activate those the minute we separate. Do you all know how to work the charm?'

More nods and affirmations.

'Fine,' said Tonks. 'We'll be traveling by Knight Bus from Hogsmeade and we're going to be dropped off at various where we need to go, so don't worry about that part. What you do have to worry about is that we'll be in Muggle London, so this whole operation is going to require some acting on everyone's part, and a change of clothes. I want Muggle wear only, and for those of you who haven't spent much time in the Muggle world, try not to look it, okay?'

Still more murmuring.

'They're really going full-bore here,' Harry muttered.

'I guess we could think of this as an Auror training assignment,' said Ron, making a lame attempt at levity.

'Hell of a training assignment,' said Harry, 'taking on Voldemort in the first go.'

He glanced at Ron and smirked, and the two of them chuckled. Ron had no idea why they would be laughing just now, but for some reason, the situation was so absurd it did seem almost funny.

'Quiet, please, I'm going to assign groups now,' said Hopkirk. 'I'll start with Group One and go on up.'

It was almost like being back at the Sorting, Ron thought, as Hopkirk read off names. Ron remembered how frightened he'd been back then, scared that he'd have to take a test, or that putting the Sorting Hat on would hurt. Now they were being sorted into groups and literally going into combat. They all might be killed. Harry could fail. The world as they knew it would be won or lost tonight.

Ron looked over at Bill and Charlie, who were talking quietly in a corner. Ron knew why they'd come; he wondered if their mother knew about this. He then thought about Fleur, who'd be having the baby any day now, and wondered again what Bill thought he was doing.

Ron blinked and realized Hopkirk was already reading names for Group Four.

'Hermione, you'll be in Group Four,' she said.

'What?' said Ron.

'Wait, what?' said Hermione. 'Professor...I wanted to go with Harry and Ron!'

Ron started to add his voice to Hermione's protests, but Hopkirk gave them a very severe look.

'The decision is final,' said Hopkirk. 'Hermione will be in Group Four, with Mr. Goldstein and Ms. Bones.'

Ron again started to protest, but the look on Hopkirk's face, no longer severe but sympathetic--or at least as sympathetic as a succubus could look--stopped him, and then Ron realized just why Hermione was being separated from them.

_To minimize emotional distractions.__ Of course. If something were to happen to Hermione...I might do something stupid to save her, and vice versa. Harry and I will already be together, the emotional distraction thing will be bad enough. With Hermione, it would be that much worse._

He looked desperately at Hermione, but she only bit her lip and stood up. She squeezed his hand and went to join Group Four. The only consolation, Ron supposed, was that they'd all be walking into the dangerous Bakerloo tunnel together. At least there, he could keep an eye on her.

'Group Five,' said Hopkirk, 'will be Harry, Ron, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom.'

Neville made a sound in his throat and stood up just as Ron did, and they went over to stand with Hopkirk and Lupin. Ron saw Luna--who was in Group Three--give Neville an encouraging smile.

'Okay!' Tonks called. 'You've got your groups. I want everyone to change clothes and report to the Main Entrance Hall in fifteen minutes.'

She came over to Harry and Ron's group; Malfoy ignored her and stood off to the side, keeping his distance.

'So,' she said, 'this is it.'

Ron watched Harry, who appeared to be wrestling with something inside of him.

'Tonks,' said Harry, 'Prof--Remus...you shouldn't be here.'

'Yes, we should, Harry,' said Lupin firmly. 'Tonks knows the Ministry backwards and forwards, and I wanted to be here. I...I promised Sirius I'd look out for you.'

'I can take care of myself,' said Harry defensively.

'I know you can,' said Lupin evenly. 'I wanted to be here.'

Harry paused, and then met Lupin's eyes. 'Did you hear about...about Wormtail?'

'I heard,' said Lupin, and he looked down for a moment. 'I'm not surprised it ended that way.'

'He said Dumbledore gave a him a second chance,' said Harry. 'But...why wouldn't Dumbledore just give Wormtail that key sooner? Why make him go through all that?'

'Wormtail...Peter chose to go through it,' said Lupin. 'If I had to guess...it was the only way he thought he could repay his debt to you. And James and Lily.'

'I want to keep hating him,' said Harry, 'but I can't.'

'Grudges take a lot of energy to maintain,' said Lupin, his eyes wandering to Snape, who was deep in conversation with Professor Vector and the rest of his group. Hermione caught Ron's eye, but her group was moving out of Hopkirk's office, and she clearly felt compelled to follow. She waved at Ron and he smiled weakly at her as she went out the door.

'Well, I'd better go join my group,' said Tonks, glancing over at a group of Aurors who were talking to Bill and Charlie. 'See you soon, Remus. Harry, Ron.'

She gave only a cursory nod to Draco, who ignored her. Ron, however, suddenly remembered his two oldest brothers were coming along, and he followed Tonks and marched right up to Bill and Charlie.

'What the hell are you two doing here?'

'Nice to see you, too, Ron,' said Charlie dryly.

'Bill, Fleur is pregnant,' Ron said.

'You don't say?' said Bill. 'And here I thought she was just eating way too much.'

'Very funny,' said Ron. 'Are you two daft? What if something happens to you?'

'What if something happens to you?' Bill shot back. 'Do you know why I'm here? Because that bastard's followers attacked my wife and nearly killed our baby. Because I'm not going to sit around waiting for somebody else to defend my family. We're here because we can fight, and Percy and Fred and George can't. We're here because Voldemort's got our sister. And we're here to look out for you.'

'We know you can take care of yourself,' said Charlie hotly. 'We know you're a grown man. But to us...you're still our baby brother.'

'I changed your dirty nappies--' said Bill.

'Shut up!' Ron hissed.

'--so don't you go lecturing me about what I can and can't do,' Bill finished.

'Fine,' Ron groaned. 'Just...get out of this alive, okay? Please?'

Bill and Charlie exchanged looks, and then the two of them surprised Ron by hugging him fiercely. Ron paused, and then hugged them back. Over Charlie's shoulder, he caught Harry looking at him with an expression that seemed almost longing.

Ron let go of his older brothers.

'We have to go change,' he said. 'See you in a few.'

'Okay,' said Bill, clapping Ron on the shoulder. Ron hurried back over to Harry.

'You okay, mate?' he asked.

Harry's eyes still had that faraway look in them. 'Fine,' he said. 'Let's go get ready.'

* * *

**   
A/N: About the geography: I consulted the maps at The Lexicon and looked at 'tube maps' (The Tube is ****London****'s subway system) and chose what I believed to be the most logical Tube station according to those maps. I also completely made up that bit about a tunnel collapsing in the Bakerloo line (a real subway line). Since I am not a ****London**** native it's possible I've made some geographical mistakes, and for that I apologize in advance.**

**Thanks as ever to lina!**


	49. Chapter Forty Nine: Inside the Ministry

**A/N: This chapter contains a good amount of violence.**

_Chapter Forty-Nine: Inside the Ministry_

The Entrance Hall was loud and crowded--all the students were standing with their respective groups--but Harry and Ron stayed quiet. Neville stood next to them, fidgeting occasionally, tugging at the neckband of his sweatshirt, which he'd borrowed from Seamus Finnigan. Draco Malfoy was once again distancing himself a bit; he looked thoroughly out of place in Muggle wear, but he'd taken the time to slick his hair back out of his eyes.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. He normally enjoyed wearing Muggle clothing but the absence of robes made it more difficult to carry his wand, and then there was the added burden of the potions they'd all been given. Shrunk to fit into a pocket, and charmed with Anti-Breaking spells to protect the glass, and Silencing Charms to keep them from clinking, Ron nonetheless felt the tiny vials of Blood Replenishing Draught, Heart Starting Potion, Bone Mender, Blood Clotting Concoction, and Burn Soothing Salve press against his hip. In his wand pocket Ron also had one of the many replicated and miniaturized floor plans of the Ministry itself. Harry had this, all the potions on him, plus a healthy dose of the blood potion.

Hagrid came lumbering up to Ron and Harry.

'I've already said "good luck" ter Hermione,' said Hagrid, his eyes full of tears. 'You two be careful now, unnerstand? You...you have to come back...'

He began to sob and hugged Harry and Ron so tightly Ron thought his ribs might break. He caught Draco rolling his eyes, and just when Ron thought he might pass out from lack of air, Hagrid let them go.

'You'll do fine,' he said. 'We're countin' on yeh, Harry, Ron. Yeh'll do fine.'

Tonks called for quiet and started to lead people outside, when Professor McGonagall came over to Ron and Harry, and pulled Harry aside.

'I'd better get goin',' said Hagrid, and he smiled tearfully and moved past the students to get outside.

McGonagall smiled fondly after Hagrid, and then looked at Harry.

'Potter, I want you to take this wand,' she said.

'It's not your wand, is it?' said Harry.

'No, it's Professor Sprout's,' said McGonagall.

'But she might need it,' Harry protested.

'Not as much as you will,' said McGonagall. 'Take it. You're not about to enter that place without a wand, do you understand?'

Harry swallowed and took the wand; it was shorter than Harry's had been, and it vibrated strangely in his hand.

'Well,' said McGonagall, 'I suppose I had better help Tonks.'

She swept away, and Harry stared after her for a moment before pocketing Sprout's wand.

'It doesn't feel right,' said Harry. 'The wand, I mean.'

'It's better than no wand at all,' said Ron. 'Nice of Sprout to loan it to you.'

'Yeah,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'I...all these people helping me, Ron. I don't know...'

'We want to help,' said a familiar voice. Harry and Ron turned to see Susan Bones, looking nervous and clutching her own wand in her hand.

'Hi, Susan,' said Harry.

'Hi,' she said.

There was a very uncomfortable silence; Ron noticed that most of the students had already gone outside. He desperately wanted to move along, or at least, if Harry and Susan had to talk about something, to leave them to it, but Susan spoke before Ron could get away.

'I'm sorry about Ginny,' she said. 'I know you'll get her back.'

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'Listen, we should probably get going.'

'Right,' said Susan, and she moved past Harry and went out the door. Ron and Harry followed just in time to hear the _BANG!_ of the Knight Bus's arrival.

* * *

The trip to London was bumpy and violent, but eerily silent. Stan Shunpike's initial glee at having so many passengers died when it became apparent that nobody would engage him in conversation. 

Ron and Harry sat next to each other, and Ron held Hermione on his lap tightly. Normally so reticent about public displays of affection, neither of them seemed to care. Ron just wanted to hold onto her before they had to face what they would be facing. Hermione buried her face in Ron's neck, and the warmth of her breath on his skin soothed him somewhat, but all too soon, the Knight Bus lurched into London, and Stan Shunpike yelled, 'King's Cross Station!'

The bus screeched to a halt, and the members of Group One got up.

'Remember,' Tonks called. 'Wait for the signal.'

'Right,' said James Marchbanks, and he and Madam Hooch led their group off the bus. The process repeated for the Leaky Cauldron and St. Mungo's. Then the Bus pulled up to Embankment--the train station closest to the Ministry--and Tonks's group of Aurors, along with Bill and Charlie, got up.

'Remus, you'll remember to--' Tonks began.

'I will,' said Lupin. She started off the bus, but he grabbed her hand. 'Be careful.'

'You, too,' said Tonks. 'See you when this is over.'

Lupin smiled at her, but Ron saw the fear in his eyes as Tonks disembarked.

'Take care, Ronnie,' said Charlie. 'Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, Harry, okay?'

'That'll be a challenge,' said Harry, smirking.

'Piss off, Harry,' said Ron, glad for the brief respite humor brought to the situation.

Charlie and Bill hugged Ron and then Harry and Hermione before getting off the Bus, and with one last glance at his older brothers, Ernie Prang jerked the Knight Bus back into motion.

'Next stop, Elephant and Castle!' Stan yelled.

They were there in less than a minute. The Bus screeched to a halt and everyone stumbled forward slightly; Ron grabbed Hermione to keep her from falling.

'All right, everyone,' said Lupin. 'Let's go. Wands away, Communicare Charms on, and act natural.'

Ron saw Snape give Lupin a nasty look, but the Potions Master rose and waved to his small group of students to disembark. Hermione stood and gripped Ron's hand for a moment before leaving the Bus, with Professor Vector and Snape behind her. All of them tapped their watches as they went.

Lupin gestured for Draco, Neville, Harry and Ron to get up, and they all started off the Bus, with Hopkirk behind them, Lupin bringing up the rear. As Ron stepped off the Bus, he felt a rush of magic from behind him; he could have sworn he heard Lupin mutter _'Obliviate,'_ but then Lupin was off the Bus, and the great purple vehicle took off with another great BANG! and vanished from sight. Ron tapped his own watched and activated the communication spell.

They found themselves on a street called Newington; somewhere behind them, Ron heard a heavy thumping that sounded like music. Several people, most likely in their early twenties, moved past them; they were dressed in a mixture of black and wild colors, and all of them had hair that made Tonks's more colorful experiments look tame.

'There's a dance club up that street,' Lupin remarked, leading them toward the entrance of the Underground.

To the left were crowds of shoppers going into a very ugly looking shopping complex; Ron patted his jeans' pocket, where he'd stored his wand, as they went into the Underground and stepped on a moving stairway that led them downwards. Nobody said a word; Draco looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Neville seemed to be trying to restrain himself from staring. It was, indeed, a very strange feeling. Only Anthony, Harry, Hermione and Lupin seemed totally unfazed by the atmosphere.

Ron had to wonder what they must look like: a bunch of teenagers and a few adults dressed in a decidedly hodge-podge manner. Even with their concerted effort at looking casual, they managed to attract a few stares.

At long last they reached the turnstiles leading to the train itself. Hermione handled all the money, while Lupin muttered instructions to everyone to act like a bunch of tourists who spoke no English. The ruse worked well enough, although Ron heard the station booth attendant mutter something about 'ruddy Bulgarian tourists, why can't they learn some English before they come 'ere?'

Hermione caught Ron's eye and winked at him. He smiled and shook his head. Again, humor seemed to help the situation.

They all got through the turnstiles and took another moving staircase--Hermione told him they were called escalators--further downward, until they found themselves inside a large underground train depot. It wasn't particularly crowded at the moment, but even without crowds, Ron was hard-pressed to locate the secret tunnel.

It was Lupin who found it.

'Behind that advertisement poster,' he said, pointing casually to a large poster for P.G. Tips tea. 'Let's wander over, shall we?'

As they drew closer, Ron saw the faint outline of a spell around the poster, and the fainter outline of an opening.

The few Muggles who stood waiting for a train gave them passing glances. Ron knew logically that Muggles wouldn't notice a bunch of wizards slipping through a wall, but he couldn't help feeling nervous. This would have been easier with a larger crowd.

'Here we are,' Lupin said. 'Gather round me for a moment, would you?'

The group pulled around Lupin. Snape looked irritable, and Draco still looked terribly uncomfortable, as Lupin tapped his watch softly with his index finger and whispered, _'Confabulari.'_

The watch glowed for a moment, and then Lupin spoke. 'Tonks? Can you hear me?'

He then tapped the watch again, said, _'Audire,'_ and Tonks's tinny voice came through faintly.

'Everyone's in place,' Tonks's voice said. 'We're going into the passages now.'

Lupin tapped his watch a third time and said, 'We'll be in touch when we get in.'

At that moment, there was a rushing sound, and Ron noticed a bright light piercing into the station: a train was arriving.

'Bakerloo line,' said a smooth male voice. 'Elephant and Castle station.' The train pulled smoothly to a halt, and as the doors slid open, a female voice said, 'Mind the gap.'

'That was timely,' said Lupin. 'Let's go now.'

He stepped up to the poster, pulled his wand from the inside of his jacket, and tapped it softly against the photograph of the teapot.

'Okay, it's open,' he said. 'Laura, you first.'

Professor Vector stepped forward, nodded at Lupin and gave him a quick smile, leaned against the teapot, and vanished into the poster.

'Susan,' said Lupin, and Susan did the same, and with a smile in Harry's direction, she too went through the poster. Anthony went next, and then Hermione, followed by Snape. Then Hopkirk stepped forward, and the process was repeated with Harry's group, Harry going right after Hopkirk, then Neville, Draco, and finally Ron. Ron took a deep breath, pressed his hand against the teapot, leaned to the side...

...and with a _whoosh!_ he was through. He stumbled and found himself in an impossibly dark tunnel, that was filled with a nearly nauseating mixture of smells: rat droppings, mold, damp, urine...death.

Ron yanked his wand from his jeans pocket and lit it. The combined lights of eleven wand tips allowed them to see, but what they saw was nothing but rotting wood rail ties and rusting iron tracks; the ceiling had come down in a few places, and the skitter of rats could be heard here and there.

Lupin tapped his watch again. 'Tonks,' he whispered. 'We're inside, and we're moving now. I'll make contact again when we get there.' Another tap on the watch, and Tonks said, 'Got that.'

Lupin tapped his watch a third time, and for a moment, there was silence, but then Susan gasped and backed up against the stone wall as a rat larger than Crookshanks slithered by.

'Lovely,' said Draco, his voice echoing in the gloom.

'Quiet,' said Lupin, his voice soft but still very resonant. 'If you have to talk, keep it down. Sound could create vibrations that bring down more of the roof.'

'Neville, back up!' Hopkirk hissed suddenly. 'Get away from that.'

Neville froze for a moment, and backed away; he was very close to a third metal rail. Hopkirk aimed her wand at it and send a soft spell; the rail glowed white for a moment, and then went dark.

'What's wrong?' he whispered.

'No longer charged,' said Hopkirk, letting out a breath. 'But all the same, best to steer clear.'

'Why?' Draco asked.

'Third rails are usually charged with electricity,' Hermione explained, keeping her voice soft. 'Enough to kill you if you touch it.'

'Let's go,' said Hopkirk. 'This way. Keep away from the third rail, just in case, and stay close. Try not to make too much noise, and don't make any sudden movements.'

Ron, Harry and Hermione instinctively came together, moving Hermione to the middle, with Harry in front and Ron behind. Lupin and Snape brought up the rear, the two of them not looking at each other, although it looked as though this were costing Snape no small effort. Instead, the two men aimed their wand lights upward toward the ceiling, looking for any warning signs of an imminent collapse.

Up ahead, Vector and Hopkirk moved slowly, adding light to their wands and keeping their eyes open for debris. Ron heard a faint drip, drip, drip coming from somewhere.

The progress was slow. At first Ron didn't understand why they didn't all just Apparate from where they were to the end of the stupid tunnel, but when Neville tripped on a dead rat, smacked his knee into a wall, let out a yelp, and the sound caused a chunk of ceiling to fall, nearly crushing Susan and the two female professors beneath it (it was the quick spell work of Lupin, Harry and Hermione that saved them), Ron understood why Apparating wasn't an option. The noise brought about by Apparating would have brought down the whole tunnel, most likely. As it was, they had to creep along, particularly since Neville, looking utterly sheepish and ashamed by his clumsiness, was apparently determined not to cause any further accidents. Snape had only refrained from insulting Neville due to the seriousness of the circumstances.

'We're getting close,' Hopkirk said finally, as Ron dodged yet another scampering rat, this one also as large as a cat. There was another moment of horror to be found a little further on, when they came across the blackened, charred torso of a person--it was impossible to tell if it was a man or woman--whose hand seemed to be fused to the third rail. The lower half seemed to have burned right off and lay in a crumpled heap of ash and blackened bone.

'Crikey,' Ron whispered. 'I thought that thing didn't have any more eckeltricity.'

'That must have happened a long time ago,' Hopkirk whispered.

'Homeless people sometimes come into unused subway tunnels,' Hermione whispered. 'If they've been drinking...they can trip and catch the third rail.'

'Poor bugger,' said Neville. 'Why didn't he just let go of the rail?'

'You can't,' said Hopkirk.

'Why not?' said Neville.

'As fascinating as a lecture on electro-physics might otherwise be,' said Snape irritably, struggling to keep his voice at a whisper, 'I wonder if we might all shut up until we're well out of this blasted tunnel.'

Ron and Harry exchanged glances; for once, they were inclined to agree with Snape.

After another few minutes they suddenly found themselves at a wall of debris that went almost to the ceiling.

'This is where the original cave in happened, the one that shut down this tunnel,' Hopkirk explained softly.

'Looks like a dead end,' said Draco. 'I thought you said this thing branched off into two tunnels.'

'It does,' said Hopkirk evenly. 'Just wait.'

She and Lupin took out their wands and pointed them at the opposite walls. They muttered something in unison, and enormous circles appeared in front of them.

'Okay,' said Hopkirk. 'Group Four, you're taking the left tunnel. Group Five, we're using the right. Remus?'

Lupin nodded, and tapped on his watch again.

'Tonks,' he whispered. 'We're at the junction and about to go in.' He tapped the watch once more, and Tonks's voice came back.

'Got that, Remus,' she said. 'Groups One through Three, are you there?'

'Present and accounted for,' said James Marchbanks.

'We're here,' said the squeaky voice of Flitwick.

'All here, Tonks,' said a voice that Ron guessed belonged to Auror Branstone.

'Right,' said Tonks. 'Once we're in, we need to be quiet, so I want everyone except team leaders to shut off communications. Let's do Disillusionment Charms now, okay? Go.'

Ron and Hermione quickly performed the charm on each other; Neville and Harry did the same, followed by Anthony and Susan; Susan also did the charm on Draco. Very quickly everyone in the dim tunnel looked like nothing more than faint outlines. Ron shuddered; it was just like last year, only worse. This time they weren't going to try and sneak past Voldemort; they were going right for him.

Ron saw the familiar, faint outline of Hermione's wand, and used that to find her hand.

'On my signal, we go,' said Tonks. 'One, two, three. Go now.'

It was happening too fast. Ron didn't want to let Hermione go; judging by the way she grabbed onto him--it was bizarre, feeling her embrace him and seeing naught but an outline of her--she didn't want to go just yet either. But Snape hissed, 'Come along,' and Ron felt the sudden pressure of Hermione's lips against his.

'Please be careful,' she whispered.

'You, too,' he said, feeling his heart start to hammer in his chest. And suddenly, he felt her hand wrench away from him, and she was gone, and he was being herded down another dark passageway, away from her.

'She'll be okay,' Harry said. 'She will be.' He said it in a voice meant to reassure, but Ron couldn't help but notice that it sounded more like Harry was just trying to convince himself of Hermione's safety.

Ron blinked and forced himself to focus; they were moving faster now. The tunnel was narrower and shorter and he was forced to crouch down. The faint glow of magic was all that was holding the tunnel up. Nobody said a word; there was only the sound of breathing, when suddenly they all stopped short behind Hopkirk.

'We're here,' she whispered. 'Wands up.'

Everyone lifted their wands into a defensive position, or at least, that's what it looked like to Ron, judging by the outlines he saw in front of him, outlines that quickly blended into the surroundings when everyone went still.

'Be ready with Shield Charms,' said Hopkirk.

_Hermione, please be okay..._

Hopkirk aimed her wand at the wall in front of them and fired some kind of spell. The wall began to wiggle and shake.

'It's open,' she said, breathing a sigh of relief. 'Remus...'

'Tonks, we're going in,' Lupin whispered.

'Right,' came Tonks's voice. 'We're going in now. Good luck.'

'I'll go in first,' said Hopkirk. 'Harry, you'll come next, but wait for me to give the all clear, understand?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, and his voice conveyed exactly what Ron was feeling at the moment. A surge of adrenaline and anticipation. This was it.

The outline of Hopkirk pushed through the barrier; the barrier rippled like black water for a moment, and there was silence. A few seconds passed, then a few more. Ron held his breath. Ten seconds. Where was Hopkirk? Had she already been caught? What if an ambush waited on the other side? He felt Harry stiffen beside him, and then relax.

'What?' Ron whispered.

'It's him,' Harry whispered back. 'He was trying to get inside my head but I blocked it.'

'He doesn't know we're here, does he?'

'Not yet,' said Harry. 'Where the bloody hell is--'

At that moment the barrier in the wall ripped again, and Hopkirk's head came through. Her very solid, visible head.

'Griselda?' said Lupin.

'It's clear,' she said, but her voice was grim. 'It looks like they've worked the place over with anti-invisibility type spells. The Disillusion Charm came off the second I stepped through.'

'I should have brought my cloak,' Harry muttered.

'It wouldn't do any good here,' said Hopkirk. 'Let's go, Harry.'

Harry's moved forward as Hopkirk stepped back and vanished again through the barrier. Harry followed; it looked as if the wall had swallowed him up.

'Neville, go,' said Lupin.

Another outline moved forward, and Neville went through, followed by Draco. Ron went next, once again feeling like he'd been sucked through something at an impossible speed, only to be jerked to a halt again. His feet hit the ground and he felt the Disillusion Charm lift off him in a rush of warmth, and saw his freckled hands come into view. He heard Lupin's feet land behind him, and stepped aside as Lupin came into view. Ron looked around the room and suddenly saw where they were.

'A broom closet?' he said.

'Naturally,' said Hopkirk. 'Who'd think to look in here?'

'Tonks, we're in,' Lupin muttered into his watch. 'Tonks?'

He tapped his watch again, and Tonks's voice came back. She was shouting.

'We're in business up here!' she yelled, and Ron heard the whoosh of a spell being fired. 'They've got Graphorns...shit! Where the hell are Groups One and Two?'

'We're in, Tonks!' came James Marchbanks' voice. 'Group Two!'

'We've got them surrounded!' came the voice of Mary Stebbins.

'Remus, get going!' Tonks yelled.

Lupin started to speak but there was a crash; he quickly tapped his watch. The concern on his face for Tonks was palpable, but he couldn't risk the noise of their battle giving them away. Ron swallowed. Bill and Charlie were up there, in the thick of it.

'Let's move,' said Hopkirk. 'Wands up. Shield Charms ready.' She reached for the doorknob. 'I'm going to open the door...NOW!'

The door flew open, and they were greeted with silence. Hopkirk leaned forward and stuck her head out the door, then leaped back in, then looked out again.

'Clear,' she muttered. 'Draco, Neville, go.'

Neville started forward; Draco hesitated.

'Move, Draco,' Hopkirk snapped. 'You wanted to be a part of this, remember?'

Draco swallowed, glanced at Harry, and then followed Neville. The two of them moved out of the room; Ron saw them press their backs along the near wall.

'Ron, you and Harry,' said Hopkirk, 'and Remus.'

Ron shoved himself in front of Harry, who held onto Sprout's wand tightly. Ron could tell Harry wasn't pleased with the grip on it; it was made for Sprout's small, stout hand; Harry's larger hand with its long fingers seemed to find the grip a bit unwieldy. But before Ron could offer Harry his wand, and take Sprout's for himself, Lupin was urging them out.

They moved into an all too familiar corridor. At one end stood the lift; at the other end, there was a staircase on the left side leading downward to level ten. Straight ahead was the doorway leading into the Department of Mysteries. A faint glow was coming from the staircase.

Hopkirk gestured for them to follow behind her; her wand was out and her movements the impossibly graceful ones of a succubus. Indeed, Ron noticed that her eyes had begun to flash bright red. He could smell anticipation on her, almost like a sexual heat. She moved forward suddenly and peered round the corner, then leapt back, then looked again. Without turning back to them, she raised her right arm and waved them forward.

They started to move, past Hopkirk, past the staircase, positioning themselves on either side of the door to the Department of Mysteries...Hopkirk moved forward and took up a position to the left of the door, with Ron and Harry...

'What's that?' Draco hissed suddenly. Ron and the others followed his eyes--he was staring down at the other end of the corridor.

'Something's moving,' Neville whispered, and his body tensed as he clutched his wand more tightly.

Indeed, there were dark shapes amassing just in front of the lift. For a moment, Ron thought it might be some of the students. Maybe they'd managed to take down whatever they were fighting, and had decided to come down to the ninth floor to help.

But suddenly Ron heard a low growling, and he caught the distinct scent of blood.

'Werewolves!' Lupin bellowed, just as four massive beasts gave a collective roar and charged forward.

Ron shoved Harry behind him and aimed an Asphyxiation Curse at one of the monsters; the spell, along with another thrown by Neville, caught the werewolf square in the face, and it went down in a great heap. Lupin fired several spells at yet another werewolf, and it, too, went down.

The remaining two, now in a fury, barreled towards them. One went for Lupin, but suddenly Hopkirk leapt in front of him and gave a great, whirling kick that caught the werewolf across the face.

The other crashed into Neville, sending him sprawling. Draco leapt backwards with a cry as the werewolf roared and bared his fangs.

Harry gave a roar of his own, shoved Ron out of the way, and jumped on the werewolf's back, yanking on the beast's ears. Draco fired a spell at the werewolf--a beam of white flames burst from Draco's wand and caught the beast in the chest; the werewolf screamed as his chest burst into flame. Harry let go and the werewolf started to tumble forward; Ron caught it with a Levitation Spell as Draco extinguished the flames on its chest. Neville, white faced, scrambled out from under it, and Ron let the creature drop. It was dead.

Another roar came and they all looked up to see Hopkirk roll out of the way of a blow from the fourth werewolf. Lupin fired three quick spells at the werewolf's back, and it crashed to the floor in a heap.

'Th-thanks,' said Neville, getting up and brushing himself off as he stared down at the dead werewolf at his feet. 'You all saved my life.' He glanced at Draco. 'What was that spell you used?'

'Nothing we've learned in school, Longbottom,' said Draco sharply.

Hopkirk was breathing hard. She looked down at the dead werewolves.

'I didn't realize...it was the full moon,' she panted.

'It's not,' said Lupin darkly. 'Voldemort must have found a way to get them to transform.'

'Well,' said Harry, grimacing as he pressed his hand to his scar, 'they know we're here now.' He winced.

'Harry?' said Ron, putting a hand on his shoulder.

'He's hurting Ginny,' said Harry. 'He's trying to make me watch...'

He closed his eyes and pressed his hand harder into his scar.

'What's wrong with him?' said Draco.

'Nothing,' said Harry, letting out a breath and opening his eyes. 'I'm fine now.'

'Harry, maybe you ought to take that potion,' Hopkirk suggested.

'Not yet,' said Harry. 'That stuff still wears off too fast.'

'We'd better get inside the Department,' said Lupin. 'If you're sure you're okay, Harry.'

'I'll be fine,' said Harry. 'I just have to...to keep up the Occlumency stuff.' He paused. 'Let's go get Ginny.'

Ron watched Harry for a moment, and then nodded. 'Let's,' he said.

'Get back,' Hopkirk warned. 'They might have another welcoming committee for us beyond that door.'

The boys flattened themselves on either side of the door; Hopkirk and Lupin stood back with their wands drawn, and with a wave of her wand, Hopkirk opened the door.

It flew aside.

Hopkirk moved in; for several seconds there was silence, and Ron didn't dare look around the corner, but then Hopkirk came back.

'Clear,' she said, 'for now.'

They moved past the doorway one by one, until all were standing inside the eerily familiar circular room. Nobody bothered to pull out the floor plan; it wasn't as if it could tell them which doors would be located where, given that they rotated. There were still the floating candles in the room, giving off their eerie blue flames.

'I'm going to close the door,' said Hopkirk. 'Be ready.' She pushed the door behind them shut.

'Why, what happens when you--' Draco began, but suddenly there was a rumbling; Hopkirk barely had time to cast a Flagrate Charm before the doors began to spin around them. Just as suddenly, everything stopped.

Everything except the spinning in Ron's mind, which suddenly sent him flashes...an image of a red-headed girl in dark robes, standing on a raised platform, next to an archway with a billowing black veil.

'Oh,' said Draco. 'Well, that's great. We know how to get out. But which door do we go in?'

Ron blinked again. 'Ginny's in the death room.'

'Where?' said Draco.

Harry winced suddenly and grabbed at his scar.

'Harry?' said Neville, stepping forward. 'What's wrong?'

'Ginny,' Harry managed. 'She's...she's under the Imperius Curse. She's weak.'

'You can feel her?' said Draco.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Voldemort's in her head...' He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and Ron saw the pain in his face pass. 'We have to get her out,' Harry said.

'Which door leads to this death room?' Draco asked.

'We don't know,' said Hopkirk. 'That's the problem with--'

'Look out!' Lupin yelled suddenly, shoving Hopkirk out of the way. He leapt forward and gave a howl of pain as a spell lanced through his shoulder. Ron saw a splatter of blood as Lupin rolled, and suddenly the rest of them were leaping out of the way of spells. Death Eaters had arrived, but they weren't alone. They'd brought...

'Vampires!' Hopkirk yelled, and suddenly she transformed, her skin went red, fangs and horns appeared, her hands became long-fingered claws.

'Holy shit!' said Draco, gawping at Hopkirk as she leapt thirty feet into the air. A tall, pale vampire with flashing red eyes and bared fangs flew towards her, and they collided in mid-air.

'Draco, watch it!' Ron snapped, aiming a Shield Charm at Draco as a Death Eater fired a spell his way. Draco whirled and fired another unfamiliar looking spell at the Death Eater, and it caught him in the face. The Death Eater screamed and began pulling at his hood, flailing around uselessly.

'Get Harry out of here!' Lupin bellowed, clutching his bloodied shoulder and aiming a spell at a Death Eater. He raced toward a door, grabbed Neville by the collar, and pulled Neville inside after him; a few Death Eaters followed, and one of them slammed the door shut behind him.

Ron, Harry and Draco found themselves alone in the battle against the remaining Death Eaters; they were outnumbered two to one, but having Draco on their side proved to be an advantage. He was clearly using all manner of Dark spells against their enemies, and scoring a few direct hits that left one Death Eater choking on his own blood and another howling in pain as his clothes began to burn and melt into his skin.

'Merlin,' Ron said, ducking as a curse hurtled towards him. 'That's bloody disgusting.'

He and Harry fired Leg Breaker Curses at another Death Eater, and with a terrible crunch of breaking bones, the Death Eater crashed to the floor.

'This bloody wand,' Harry grumbled, as it slipped in his grip again.

'Come on, we have to get you out of here!' Ron yelled, but then a Death Eater fired another spell, and Ron had to throw up the fastest Shield Charm of his life.

In the next instant there was an unearthly scream; for a moment everyone stopped and looked up to see one of the three vampires--all of them were levitating in the air somehow--with a massive wooden stake sticking out of its chest. Hopkirk, who also floated in mid-air, still in her demonic body, aimed her wand and shouted a curse, and with a sickening swish, the vampire's head was sheared clean off its neck, the wound cauterizing on contact, and the head went crashing to the floor to land by Draco's feet.

'Jesus Christ!' he shouted, leaping out of the way.

'Draco, look out!' Harry roared, but before he or Ron could even move, a vampire had flown down and tackled Draco, sending him sprawling face first to the floor. Hopkirk started after that vampire, but its companion blocked her, and the two of them began to wrestle in mid-air.

Ron yanked Harry down just in time as a Death Eater threw a curse; Ron threw up a Shield Charm and blocked the spell, sending it ricocheting into the other Death Eater, who gave a shriek and crumpled to the floor.

Meanwhile, the vampire had flipped Draco over.

'Help me!' he screamed, as the vampire lifted him forcibly into a sitting position and pushed Draco's head back, baring his throat.

'Shit!' said Ron, and he fired the first spell he could think of: an Impediment Jinx.

It struck the vampire in the face, and he lurched backwards, but he didn't fall, and he didn't let go of Draco.

'Dammit, Weasley!' Draco screamed, struggling vainly against the vampire's fierce grip. 'KILL IT!'

In that instant Ron remembered, and he conjured up a wooden stake.

'Harry, see if you can--' Ron began, but Harry jumped up and fired a powerful Impediment Jinx at the vampire.

It was enough; this time the vampire let go of Draco, who fell backwards and banged his head on the floor. Ron sent the wooden stake hurtling forward so fast it was a brown blur, and in the next instant it was buried in the vampire's chest. The vampire screamed and his cheeks began to sink as he started to die; Harry threw a vicious Cutting Curse, and the vampire's head was lopped off, blood spraying everywhere.

Ron, Harry and Draco instinctively covered their faces, the blood missing their eyes and mouths but splattering their hair and clothes. Draco got the worst of it. Ron and Harry started towards him to help him up, when the forgotten Death Eater struck. A jet of red light struck Harry in the back of the left leg, and he gave a howl and went down, as blood began to seep through his jeans.

Ron growled and aimed an Asphyxiation Curse at the Death Eater, but the Death Eater blocked it. Draco raised his bloodied head and fired a Dark curse at the Death Eater, who gave a great gurgling breath before collapsing to the floor. Above them, the third vampire gave a keening wail and they looked up to see it grasping at the stake in her chest; Hopkirk took off her head with a wave of her wand, and then floated down to the ground, returning to her human form. She had an ugly gash on one cheek and moved a bit gingerly, as though she was in pain.

'Potter, are you okay?' she asked urgently, apparently determined to ignore her own wounds.

'Fuck,' Harry groaned. 'I think he hit an artery.'

'Sit him up,' Hopkirk ordered. Ron obeyed.

Indeed, Harry's face was alarmingly pale, and blood was flowing fast. Ron forced himself to stay calm.

'You two get back,' Hopkirk said, and she yanked off her jacket, under which she wore a t-shirt that might have once been white, but was now covered in sweat and blood. 'I need to tie this wound off,' she said, and to Ron's shock she yanked off her t-shirt. He quickly looked away, catching a glimpse of a sweaty white bra that had become somewhat transparent from sweat.

'Harry, lift your leg,' she instructed. Harry was panting and sweating now, but his face had grown more chalklike. Ron watched Hopkirk, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to ignore her state of partial undress as she used her wand to cut away Harry's pant leg, baring the wound just above his knee. Ron swallowed a wave of nausea. Hopkirk wrapped her t-shirt under Harry's leg, holding both up ends in her hands.

'This is going to hurt,' she said matter-of-factly, before jerking the t-shirt into a hard knot. Harry gave a loud groan, and fell back onto his elbows. Hopkirk now had her wand over the wound, doing some kind of healing spell.

'The blood flow's slowed but it won't stop,' she said. 'The spell must have been jinxed to make you bleed out.'

'Great,' said Harry weakly.

'Harry, take your potions,' said Ron. 'The blood clotting stuff, and the Blood Replenishing Draught.'

'Oh, yeah,' said Harry, and he reached into his pocket, but then his face fell.

'Shit,' he said. 'They're gone. They must have fallen out during the fight.'

Ron wasted no time; he reached into his pocket, found his packet of shrunken potions vials, and enlarged two back to normal size.

'Take mine,' he ordered.

'But you might need--'

'You're going to argue with me now?' Ron snapped. 'Take the potions, Harry.'

'Take them,' said Hopkirk, still working on Harry's leg with spells.

Harry took the blood-clotting potion, and downed it; then he drank the Blood Replenishing Draught, and gulped it down as well. Almost at once, color returned to his face. Hopkirk leveled a final healing spell on Harry's leg just as Ron saw the blood stop flowing.

'It worked,' he said.

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'One more spell,' said Hopkirk, running her wand over the ugly wound on Harry's leg. 'Pain suppression. The spell won't last forever.'

'So the sooner I get to Voldemort the better,' said Harry, standing up gingerly, with Ron's help. 'Thanks, this feels fine.'

Hopkirk repaired Harry's trouser leg.

'Where are Remus and Neville?' she asked, but the question was answered when suddenly the two of them came tumbling from behind a door that Ron noticed was indeed in a different part of the room now. Neville had a black eye and Lupin's lip was bleeding.

'Remus!' Hopkirk called, jogging up to him. 'Are you--'

'We have to move!' Lupin urged. 'They're coming, they're just behind--'

At that moment, six more Death Eaters burst into the room.

'Go!' Hopkirk yelled. 'Get Harry out of here. We'll hold them off!'

She and Lupin threw up Shield Charms, and then Lupin conjured up what looked like a massive metal barrier. The boys moved behind it as Lupin and Hopkirk battled the Death Eaters.

'Come on!' Neville cried. 'Let's...just get inside a room!'

Harry, hobbling slightly on his injured leg, suddenly winced and his hand flew to his scar.

'Harry, what is it?' Ron asked urgently.

'Ginny,' Harry hissed. 'She's...she's still in the death room.'

'That's bloody good to know, given that we still can't figure out which door leads there!' Draco shouted.

Suddenly Harry's eyes widened. 'That one,' he said, pointing to a door across the room. A spell sailed over their heads, and they ducked. Ron looked back to see Lupin and Hopkirk levitating the protective barrier back. The boys would have to move soon, or risk getting struck by a curse.

'It's that door,' said Harry, and he started across the room. Ron started after him. Something wasn't right. Something...

'You're going the wrong way,' said a familiar, unfamiliar voice.

Ron whirled round and found himself staring, slack-jawed at a man with brown hair and green eyes. He wore the same jeans and sweatshirt Ron was wearing. Time seemed to suddenly slow down, and everything was happening in slow motion.

'W-what?' Ron whispered.

'Ron?' said Neville, and his voice was very far away. Harry was moving inexorably toward the door he'd chosen.

'What's wrong with Weasley?' said Draco, his voice distant.

'You're going the wrong way,' the man with the green eyes repeated. 'The way you want is here.' He pointed to a door just next to the one Harry was approaching.

The man suddenly vanished; in his wake there was a gleaming sword. Ron reached for it, but it, too, vanished.

'Ron!' Harry yelled. 'Come on, it's just inside--'

'Harry, no!' Ron yelled back, suddenly coming to himself. 'Wait! That's not the door. It's this one!'

'What's going on?' Draco hollered.

'Malfoy, watch it!' Neville yelled, and he pulled Draco down as a curse crashed over their heads.

Ron looked over to see Hopkirk and Lupin battling with one Death Eater each, as a third was hurrying over to them, his wand throwing curses that Neville and Draco blocked.

'HARRY!' Ron bellowed, and with a speed he didn't know he possessed, he raced over to Harry, grabbed him by the forearm, and yanked him toward the door the man with the green eyes--Ron knew he'd just been there!--had indicated.

'Ron--' Harry protested.

'In here!' Ron yelled. 'It's in here, Harry! Neville, Malfoy!'

Neville threw a Stunning Spell that caught the advancing Death Eater in the face. Ron turned and his jaw dropped again when he saw Firenze, standing calmly by the door. Ron blinked, and Firenze was gone, but suddenly the thing that had been buzzing about in Ron's brain, the words Firenze had uttered to him just before galloping into the Forest to confront his heard, came roaring back. Ron closed his eyes and saw a sword flying through the air, saw Ginny with an outstretched wand, standing on a raised platform, saw Harry crumpling to the floor...

_Finish it, Harry... _

Harry started into the door, but Ron grabbed his shoulder.

_Your part in this story is written, Ronald Weasley. You will know what to do when the time comes._

'Ron, what?' Harry asked impatiently.

Ron swallowed. He knew what he had to do.

'I go first,' he said.

Harry looked at him quizzically for a moment, and then his eyes widened.

'What did you see, Ron?' he asked.

'Get out of my way, Harry,' said Ron, and he moved to shove past Harry, but Harry wouldn't budge.

'Ron, answer me!' Harry yelled, his green eyes wild.

Ron swallowed again, feeling a lump rise in his throat.

_I'm sorry, mate._

_Hermione...I'll always fight like hell to get back to you..._

'I said get out of my way!' Ron roared, and with a sudden burst of strength he shoved Harry roughly aside and yanked open the door, stepping through the threshold and running down the stone benches to the center of the room.

'Ron, DON'T!' Harry cried.

It happened in a matter of seconds. His eyes went automatically to the daïs. Ginny was there, dressed in black Death Eater robes, but her head was bare, revealing the brilliant red hair so like Ron's own. He saw the tears running down her face, saw her outstretched hand. He was vaguely aware of Harry pushing his way into the room, followed by Neville and Draco; he heard the door slam shut, but then it was all a blur of silver.

'Ginny, NO!' Harry screamed.

Ron saw the spells flying but they weren't fast enough. Harry was sprinting at him.

'Stupefy!' Neville cried, sending a Stunner at Ginny that caught her in the chest. Ron saw her sink to the floor. He closed his eyes and saw Hermione smiling at him, and then heard a swish.

Strange. How come it didn't hurt?

Ron's eyes traveled over to where the sword lay, its blade now gleaming with blood.

_My blood..._

_The blood of those who love him will save him._

Ron felt his knees give out beneath him; he realized he was bleeding, quite badly. Blood was soaking his sweatshirt, but he didn't feel any pain. Just a little sting, but no real pain. It was, quite possibly, the strangest sensation he'd ever felt.

'Ron...'

A choked voice made him look up. Harry was standing a few feet away, looking at him with tears running down his face. Draco and Neville were just behind him, both gaping.

'It doesn't hurt, Harry,' said Ron, still amazed, and then he felt himself topple forward.

* * *

**   
A/N: ****Newington**** is a real street, there _is_ a big dance club in that area of ****London**** (called Ministry of Sound) and PG Tips is a real tea brand. **

**I am aware of the evilness of this cliffhanger. I promise to update as soon as humanly possible, but please understand: the next chapter is the most important chapter in this whole story; it is the chapter I have been building up to, and I want it to be as good as it can possibly be. So I ask for your patience in advance. Thanks!**

**Keep your fingers crossed for Ron.**

**Thanks as ever to lina.**


	50. Chapter Fifty: The Final Reckoning

**A/N: This chapter contains extensive and intense scenes of violence. Reader discretion is strongly advised.**

_Chapter Fifty: The Final Reckoning_

Even as Harry flung spell after desperate spell at Ginny, at the sword, at Ron, he knew it was too late. The sword spun through the air in a blur of bright silver, and Harry could only watch helplessly as it slashed Ron across the belly. Ron didn't scream; he hardly even moved.

Harry heard the sword clatter across the stone floor, but his eyes were locked on Ron, who was bleeding heavily and looking at Harry with an almost bemused expression on his face.

'It doesn't hurt, Harry,' he said, his voice full of surprise, and then his knees gave out and he fell, almost in slow motion, to the floor.

'NO!'

The scream came from Harry's throat, and it was the sight of Ron falling, of his blood splashing on the floor, which put Harry's feet in motion; he hurtled towards Ron and crashed to his knees beside him. Neville was already there.

'Ron!' Harry croaked, and he gripped Ron's shoulders to turn him over onto his back. His entire front was crimson, his sweatshirt soaked. Harry had never seen so much blood.

'Oh, god...' he groaned. 'Ron...Jesus Christ. You stupid fuck...'

'This isn't good,' said Neville.

_No, you think?_

'S-sorry, Harry,' Ron muttered. 'Had to...you needed blood...'

'I've already got your blood in that potion I'm carrying!' Harry roared, caught between terror and fury for his best friend.

'Wasn't enough...' Ron muttered, as Neville began to pull up Ron's sweatshirt.

'Help me,' he barked at Harry, and the two of them peeled the fabric upwards. Ron winced.

'Okay,' he murmured. 'That hurts...'

'Oh, Jesus,' Harry whispered. There was a single, gaping slash across Ron's torso; it looked as if the sword had cut him deeply. Blood gushed with every beat of Ron's heart. Harry suddenly felt totally helpless. Frozen and useless as the very life drained out of Ron's body. 'Ron...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, mate...' Tears dripped down Harry's face, his nose.

'Not your fault,' Ron whispered. 'Cold...I'm cold...'

'Harry!' Neville snapped. 'He's bleeding out. Wake up and help me and maybe we can save him!'

Harry blinked and wiped his eyes. Neville--timid, forgetful, uncertain Neville--was ordering him to snap out of it, to wake up, to help him save Ron's life.

'Potions,' said Harry at once. 'Neville...I don't have any emergency potions, they fell out of my pocket--'

'Here,' said Neville, yanking his small satchel from the inside pocket of his jacket. 'We'll give him mine. Give him the blood clot stuff first. And be careful when you move him.'

'Right,' said Harry, and he reached down and started to lift Ron gently up by the shoulders. Ron moaned and opened his eyes.

'Harry...' he whispered. 'Where's...Ginny?'

Harry felt fresh tears in this eyes; here was Ron, bleeding to death--no! Not bleeding to death, Harry wouldn't let him!--and the first person he thought of was his sister. Harry quickly tapped the phial of Blood Clotting Concoction with Sprout's wand, enlarging it to its normal size.

'Ginny's okay, Ron,' said Neville, as he performed healing spells over Ron's wound. 'I had to Stun her, but she'll be fine.'

Harry looked up at Draco, who was watching him and Neville work on Ron with a kind of frozen expression.

'Malfoy, if you're not going to help us, go get Ginny and bring her down here,' Harry snapped. 'But don't wake her; she's still under Imperius and...and that'll mess with my head as much as hers.'

Draco screwed up his face in confusion, but he obeyed, and moved upwards to the daïs to fetch the unconscious Ginny. Harry, meanwhile, managed to get Ron into a reclining position and lifted up his head.

'Make sure...' Ron whispered, 'she doesn't blame herself...for what happened...it wasn't her fault...'

'Don't talk, Ron,' Neville urged gently, doing another healing spell. Ron's wound seemed to be closing, but it was very slow work, and blood still flowed.

'Ron, said Harry, feeling his desperation increase, 'you have to drink this, okay? Come on, open your mouth.'

Ron complied, letting his lips fall open. Harry poured the contents of the phial into Ron's mouth; Ron gurgled, but Harry quickly closed Ron's mouth and massaged his throat with his free hand.

The liquid went down, and Ron grimaced.

'Tastes like shit...' he muttered.

Harry gave a half-sob, half-chuckle.

'The potion's helping,' said Neville, still working with the healing spells, 'but he's lost a lot of blood. Give him the Blood Replenishing Draught now.'

Harry nodded, and started to lower Ron down again, when he saw Draco with Ginny in his arms.

'Set her down,' said Harry, 'and help me. Find the Blood Replenishing Draught, would you?'

Draco hesitated; he didn't seem to want to let go of Ginny, who hung limply in his arms.

'Malfoy!' Harry barked, and Draco very carefully set Ginny down on the cold stone floor nearby. Harry winced to look at her: her face was bruised; there was a nasty cut along her left cheekbone; and her right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. It had clearly been broken at some point, and the bone reset carelessly, with no thought given to how it might heal. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was matted and crusted with dried blood; there were bruises on her neck. All this damage, in the course of twenty-four hours.

And yet her breathing was steady, and she looked almost peaceful, and Harry knew he couldn't wake her up yet. Voldemort was connected to both of them; her unconsciousness was a saving grace right now, allowing Harry to focus on saving Ron's life instead of being caught up in whatever mental battles raged in Ginny's mind.

'Here's the potion,' said Draco, bringing Harry back to the task at hand. Draco handed Harry another phial.

Harry took it and spoke to Ron again. 'One more potion, okay, mate? You have to drink this one, too.'

''Kay,' said Ron weakly.

'Malfoy, help me hold him up,' said Harry, and he poured the contents of the second phial down Ron's throat. Ron swallowed on his own this time, which Harry took as a hopeful sign.

'Eugh...' Ron muttered. 'Disgusting.'

Harry then nodded to Draco to let go of Ron; Draco backed away, letting Ron slump against Harry.

'His color's coming back,' Neville noted, passing his wand over Ron's wound once more. 'That's good. Ron, how do you feel?'

'Like I've been sliced up,' said Ron. 'Ow...what're you doing?'

'Trying to heal you,' said Neville.

'Hurts worse than getting cut...' Ron mumbled.

'Then maybe you shouldn't have let yourself get cut in the first place,' said Harry hotly, regarding Ron with a mixture of anger, frustration and heartache. He found himself gripping Ron's large hand in his own.

'And what,' Ron retorted weakly, 'I was supposed to let you end up like this?'

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but found he could not.

'Firenze told me,' said Ron, looking up at Harry with tired blue eyes, 'the blood of those who...who love you is what's going to save you. I didn't know...what that meant until right before...the potion will help...getting him to that room will help but the sword...the blood on it...it's chess, Harry. You have to make...a few sacrifices.'

The lump in Harry's throat rose up again, and tears clouded his vision.

'You stupid fuck,' he managed.

'You already called me that,' said Ron, grinning woozily.

'You'd better not die on me,' Harry croaked. 'I mean it, Ron.'

'I'll try,' said Ron. 'How's it look, Neville?'

Neville, who'd been working on Ron's wound steadily for the past several minutes, looked up at them both. His forehead was sweaty and he looked a bit tired.

'I think I've fixed the worst of it,' he said.

'Really?' said Harry hopefully.

'He needs the hospital,' said Neville. 'There's some internal bleeding and...and I'm not skilled enough to stop that. The potions help but their effects won't last forever.'

'We could give him more potions until we get him to hospital,' said Harry. 'Malfoy?'

'What?' said Draco sharply.

'Give Neville your blood potions,' Harry ordered. 'For Ron.'

'And what if I need them?'

At this, Neville stood up and pointed his wand at Draco's chest. 'Give me the potions, Malfoy,' he threatened.

Draco glared at Neville for a long moment, but then he reached into his pocket and withdrew his own satchel, tossing it to Neville. Neville fumbled as he caught it, nearly dropping the lot but managing to hold onto it before it fell.

Draco snorted. 'Be glad there are Unbreakable Charms on that stuff,' he quipped.

Neville glowered at Draco before pocketing the satchel.

'We should get him to hospital now,' said Harry urgently. 'And Ginny, too, for that matter--'

He broke off with a gasp of pain and his hand flew to his scar, which was burning.

'Ginny...' he whispered, and suddenly all the boys were staring at Ginny, who had awakened and was standing up slowly, her tearful eyes fixed on Ron. Harry could tell she was, indeed, still under the Imperius Curse, judging by the slackness of her jaw and her slow, painful movements; her face might otherwise have been expressionless, but for the tears rolling down her cheeks.

'R-Ron,' she whispered. Her voice was oddly flat, and yet she could not stop crying. The strength of her anguish was palpable; where most who were under Imperius would feel oddly blissful, it seemed Ginny's Empathy made it impossible for her emotions to be totally suppressed by the curse she was under.

And yet Harry knew, by the buzzing in his own emotions and his scar, that Ginny wasn't trying to fight the curse, either.

'Ginny...' Ron called weakly. 'I'm okay...it's okay...'

'Ginny, listen to Ron!' Harry urged, taking a step towards her as she began to back away. Harry took another step and winced again as his scar flared. Voldemort was inside her, and Harry felt it through her. And then Harry heard Voldemort's voice.

_See what you've done, Ginny? Your own brother_.

'Didn't mean to,' Ginny muttered, her eyes still streaming tears, her voice still toneless.

'Ginny!' Harry called. 'Don't listen to him!'

_They've fixed him up for now, but he won't last. The wound is deep. He's bleeding internally. He'll be dead inside of an hour._

'No...' Ginny whispered.

'Ginny!' Harry yelled again, moving towards her slowly.

_Stay away from Potter!_

Ginny gave a whimper and backed up more quickly; she stumbled and fell, but as Harry moved to help her up, she scrambled away.

_You know what you have to do._

'Yes,' said Ginny, in an eerily distant voice.

'Ginny, don't listen to Voldemort!' Harry urged.

_Make amends, Ginny. For your brother._

'Amends,' Ginny whispered.

_Tell your brother you're sorry._

'Ginny...' Harry pleaded. His scar was on fire; his mind was reeling. He had to get through to her.

'I'm sorry, Ron,' Ginny said, her voice flat again, tears still on her face. She started to climb the stairs towards the archway.

'No, Ginny!' Harry yelled. 'Don't move!'

Ginny stopped for a moment.

_Go on, Ginny. You've murdered your brother. You have to pay for it._

'Don't move!' Harry repeated. 'Fight him, Ginny! Don't let him do this! It's not your fault what happened.'

_It is your fault._

'It is my fault,' she said, moving up the stone steps again, walking faster. The black veil billowed out, as though beckoning her to walk through.

Harry followed. 'Ginny, please! Don't do this!' His throat nearly closed up on him again. 'You don't have to do this.'

Ginny stopped again, and her whole body was trembling; Harry's body began to tremble in sympathy. Voldemort was inside both of them now, trying to stop Harry from catching Ginny, trying to force Ginny to walk through the veil.

_Go on, Ginny._

'Get out of her head, you sick freak,' Harry growled.

_She has to die, Potter. Just like her brother._

'H-Harry...' Ginny whispered, starting to turn around.

_No! Don't turn around!_

'That's it, Ginny,' Harry urged. 'Look at me. Fight him.'

She turned a few more steps. Harry could feel every inch of her struggle, her clawing attempts to resist the pull of the Imperius Curse, of Voldemort's hold on her mind. The pain was incredible, it was almost overwhelming.

Ginny hesitated.

'Come on, Ginny,' Harry begged. 'You can do this.'

_Stay out of this, Potter!_

'I won't let her die, you bastard,' Harry snapped. 'You won't hurt her to get to me!'

_I already have. She's mine. She'll join her brother. All your little friends will die, you'll be alone..._

'No,' Harry countered, urging his thoughts into Ginny's.

_Yes..._

There was a sudden flash, an image. Ginny gave a moan as she and Harry both saw Ron being slashed open with the sword. Ginny began to cry again, and started to turn back towards the daïs. Harry groaned as the pain increased in his scar.

'Ginny...' he said. 'Please...don't leave me...'

She stopped once more.

'I love you,' Harry pleaded. 'Stay with me. Fight him. If he takes you...he wins...'

She began to turn back to him.

_No!_

'Yes,' said Harry. 'That's it. Come on, Gin. Look at me.' He winced as new pain assaulted his whole body, as Ginny struggled against the bonds of Imperius. A few more steps and she would be facing him...

_Stop!_

Come on, Ginny,' Harry whispered.

_She is mine!_

'N-no...' Ginny gasped, and she turned fully around, lifting her red, swollen eyes to meet Harry's.

_STOP!_

Harry leapt forward, crushing Ginny in an embrace before she could move out of his reach. She screamed when he placed his hands on her face, and Harry screamed with her as the curse lifted, passed through him, and outward.

_NO!_

The entire room rippled and Harry and Ginny went tumbling; they were saved from falling completely down the stairs by both Neville and Draco, who used Levitation Charms. Instead of crashing along the stairs, Harry and Ginny landed softly on a step, with Ginny on top, her face now buried in Harry's neck. Voldemort was gone for the moment, but he would return.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and Ginny's quiet sobs. Harry didn't move, he just clung to Ginny for dear life, caressing her matted hair and whispering softly to her. It was as if Ron, Neville and Draco weren't in the room.

'Shh, Ginny,' Harry whispered. 'I'm here.'

'I'm sorry,' she sobbed. 'I'm so sorry...it's all my fault...'

'No,' said Harry, taking her face in his hands and looking u at her. 'Never say that. Don't even think it. It was him. He used you.'

'But I tried to kill you,' Ginny whimpered. 'And Ron...'

'Ginny...'

Ginny turned to see Ron, shirtless and now leaning up against Neville. Ron had his left arm drawn over his stomach to hide the wound there.

'Ron?' Ginny climbed off Harry and ran towards her older brother, crashing to her knees and throwing her arms round his neck.

'Ow,' Ron groaned, but he put his free arm around Ginny's shoulder and held her close. Harry climbed slowly down the stairs, rubbing his forehead.

'I'm sorry, Ron, I'm sorry!' Ginny bawled. She pulled back and grabbed his left arm, pulling it away from his wound. 'Oh, Merlin...look what I did...'

'Ginny, it's okay,' said Ron weakly. 'Neville's patched me up. I just need to get to hospital, and I'll be fine.'

'But--'

'Tender as this scene is,' said Draco dryly, 'I don't think it's a good idea to stay here. Especially if the Dark Lord decides to make a return visit inside Potter's head.'

'We should get both Ron and Ginny to hospital if we can,' said Neville worriedly. 'They can't Apparate, but if we can find that secret tunnel...'

'Here,' said Harry, and he reached inside his left pocket--double-checking that the blood potion was still there--and withdrew a copy of the floor plans Hopkirk had provided everyone. He found the plan for the third floor.

'It's this loo,' he said, 'behind the far cubicle.'

'Right,' said Neville, as he and Draco helped Ron to his feet. 'I just hope we can get there into anyone unfriendly.'

Ron swayed slightly.

'Lean on me,' said Neville. 'It's okay. Maybe you should take a second dose of those potions.'

'Good idea...' said Ron, and Neville enlarged both phials; Ron took them in shaking hands and drank them down, dribbling a bit of each down his front, which Neville had mercifully cleaned of blood. Harry fought down a wave of despair. There was no way Ron could fight in his condition, and Ginny's injuries were such that she, too, would have trouble. Draco had fetched her wand and given it to her, but now she held it uncertainly, almost as though afraid of it.

Harry swallowed as she looked at him again. The guilt was written all over her face, and her lower lip was trembling.

_It's not your fault,_ he thought, and he gripped her hand in his, willing her to accept it.

She nodded, but Harry knew she wasn't convinced. The guilt ran too deeply. Harry wondered if she'd ever get over it, but then he knew the only thing that could help her now was for him to end Voldemort's hold on her, for good.

It was time.

'If you can find Lupin or Hopkirk...let them do the fighting,' said Harry.

'Wait a minute...aren't you coming?' said Draco.

'Harry...' said Ginny.

'He can't,' said Ron, still leaning against up against Neville. 'He has to finish it.'

'Finish the Dark Lord,' said Draco. 'By yourself.' It wasn't a question.

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'No, Harry,' said Ginny, her eyes filling with tears again. 'You can't just...you can't face him alone...you need people there...'

'Ginny,' said Harry, 'I have to do this by myself. If I have people in there when I face him...he'll do whatever he can to hurt or kill them, because he knows it'll...distract me. I can't...I can't be worried about anyone else when I see him.'

'But we're your friends,' she whispered, clearly forgetting that Malfoy hardly fit that category. 'We're supposed to help.'

'You have,' said Harry. 'More than you know.' He looked at Ron, who grinned tiredly.

'You know what to do, Harry,' he said. 'So...finish it, yeah? Give me a really cool story to tell my kids.'

Harry felt another lump rise in his throat as his eyes skipped over the wound across Ron's stomach that looked as if it was barely being held together by magic.

'Kids, huh?' he said. 'When are you having kids?'

'Dunno,' said Ron. 'Whenever Hermione marries me and lets me knock her up.'

Everyone except Draco laughed, and then Ron winced and pressed a hand to his wound. 'Probably should try not to laugh,' he said.

'You need a shirt,' Neville noted, and he conjured up a t-shirt for Ron to wear.

'Thanks,' said Ron, shivering slightly as he let Neville carefully pull the shirt on him.

'Let's go,' Draco hissed, already moving towards the doorway leading out of the Death Chamber.

'Harry...' Ginny whispered, 'take...take my wand.'

'Ginny...'

'Just take it, please,' she begged. 'I won't take the chance that he could get in my head again and make me do other stuff.'

'It's...a fair point, Harry,' said Neville delicately.

'He could take mine,' Ron suggested. 'I won't be much good in a fight.'

'No,' said Ginny. 'Ron...you're in better shape to fight than I am. Really.'

Harry gazed at Ginny for a long moment, and then nodded; he took her wand from her outstretched hand, and let it settle into his grip. It wasn't perfect, but it was definitely an improvement on Sprout's wand.

'It's a bit swishy,' said Ginny.

'Neville, take Sprout's wand, would you?' said Harry, holding the professor's wand in his other hand. Neville took it and slipped it into his jeans pocket.

'Don't forget the sword, Harry,' said Ron.

Harry turned and Summoned the sword with a wave of Ginny's wand, that was, indeed, quite swishy; the sword flew towards him, the handle out. Harry caught it, and felt a wave of revulsion to see the blade stained bright with Ron's blood. The blood looked to still be wet. Ginny turned away, and Ron quickly put an arm around her again, kissing her on the forehead.

'The potion,' said Ron, his voice sounding a bit weaker. 'You have to take your potion, Harry.'

'I will,' said Harry. 'You lot get go--'

_CRACK!_

'Harry, look out!' Neville cried suddenly.

Harry barely had time to whirl about when the roar of an incantation filled the room.

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

The jet of green light flew from Voldemort's wand, making a beeline for Ginny...

_'Protego!'_

Four shouts, in unison, as Harry, Ron, Neville and Draco all threw up Shield Charms. Harry had about a millisecond to pray that the charms were strong enough, indeed, to repel a Killing Curse from the Dark Lord himself, when the jet of green light struck the four charms.

The charms didn't repel the Killing Curse--not even close--but they did manage to slow it down, just enough, giving Draco time to shove Ginny to the floor and the rest of them to duck out of the way. The curse hit the opposite wall with a crash, gouging out a huge chunk of plaster.

'Get out of here!' Harry bellowed, as Voldemort screamed and raised his wand again. 'Go!'

_'Impedimenta!'_ Harry shouted, throwing a jinx at Voldemort. Wasting no time, Harry then threw a Leg Breaker Curse.

'Come on!' Draco shouted, throwing some Dark spells as he grabbed Ginny by the arm and yanked her up and towards the door. Voldemort blocked every spell that came at him, but everyone was hurtling curses at such speed, that Voldemort had no time to counter with curses of his own.

'Harry!' Ginny screamed.

'Get her out of here!' Harry roared. He saw a flurry of both red and blond hair as Ginny was pulled forcefully from the room by Draco. It was then that Harry remembered he was supposed to take the blood potion.

'Neville, Ron!' he yelled, but Ron seemed to know what Harry needed already. He and Neville focused all their attention on Voldemort, throwing every curse in their arsenal, but Voldemort countered with curses of his own, driving Ron and Neville further away from the door. Harry did the only thing he could think of--he conjured a barrier, and Neville and Ron dove behind it, barely missing a Cutting Curse from Voldemort. Voldemort threw a Reductor Curse that obliterated the barrier, sending bits of metal flying. Neville cried out as a piece sliced his cheek open, but Ron--in spite of his own injury--managed to throw out another barrier just in time.

'Hurry up, Harry!' he yelled, as Voldemort threw another Reductor Curse, that Neville barely managed to block.

Harry put down the sword, reached into his left pocket, and withdrew the phial of potion; enlarging it with a tap of Ginny's wand, he uncorked the phial and downed the contents.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Harry felt the heat of power flowing through his veins; he felt and saw the happiest moments in his life. For a moment, it was like he wasn't in the room with the most powerful Dark Wizard in a century, in a pitched battle to save his life and the lives of his friends.

Voldemort must have sensed Harry's sudden surge of strength; he gave a shriek and threw a Killing Curse, but Harry blocked it with a Shield Charm that sent the spell ricocheting to the left wall. Voldemort looked furious.

'Ron, Neville, go!' Harry roared, as Voldemort threw another curse, this one missing Ron's head by mere inches. Harry quickly picked up the sword in his left hand as he discarded the empty phial; he saw Neville clumsily drag Ron through the open door. Voldemort threw a Cutting Curse that narrowly missed Neville's leg, and in the next instant, Harry waved his wand at the door, slamming it shut. Voldemort hissed again and threw another Killing Curse at Harry, but Harry once again blocked it with a wave of Ginny's wand as he clutched the sword tightly in his other hand.

'This is not possible!' Voldemort screamed.

Harry felt his scar seethe with pain, and something else: frustration. Voldemort was angry at himself.

_He's making mistakes. That means...he's weaker._

Harry marveled at this. Surely Voldemort had come up with some potion, some method to work against whatever weakening effects Harry's blood inside him had caused. Hadn't Voldemort taken blood from Anthony, from Pansy, from Ginny? Surely he'd be stronger than this. Surely Harry wouldn't be able to hold him back so much.

And then Harry remembered that Voldemort had put the Imperius Curse upon Ginny. She was supposed to have killed him with the sword, but Ron got in the way. Ron had seen something--a vision, most likely--that had caused him to go into the Death Chamber first, to block Ginny achieving what Voldemort had tried to force her to do.

_He never wanted to face you at all! Because he's weakened, and he knows it. Even if he's still powerful, he's not as strong as he used to be. He's...afraid of you!_

This split-second thought filled Harry with a sudden surge of hope.

_May I can beat him after all..._

_'Confractum!'_

Voldemort's scream brought Harry's attention back, and he raised his wand to block the Dark Lord's curse.

In the next instant, it became a heated battle, with both Harry and Voldemort throwing curses and blocking them; the potion in his veins gave Harry almost superhuman strength and speed, but Voldemort matched him move for move. Weakened or not, Voldemort was still formidable. They fought on for several minutes, neither one of them tiring, but Harry felt the fury coursing through Voldemort, the anger that he'd been thwarted up to now, that he hadn't simply succeeded in wiping out Harry and his friends.

Harry felt another burst of confidence and threw an Asphyxiation Curse, when suddenly Voldemort, after blocking it, lowered his wand.

Harry raised Ginny's wand, readying himself for the final, killing stroke. Images swirled in his mind, all the brightest moments of his life, his friends, his family, everything...he was more powerful than he'd ever been. He would win, he would destroy Voldemort once and for all...

And then Harry's scar split open.

He gave a cry of pain and felt his knees buckle as Voldemort assaulted his mind. New images came, images of Ron lying in a heap, bleeding to death; of Ginny bound in a dark room and being raped by Death Eaters; of Hermione being tortured; of his parents being murdered; Sirius...

'No...' Harry groaned, and he felt Ginny's wand and the sword slip out of his hands.

_Fight back!_

Harry gave a roar and forced his mind outward, back into Voldemort's. Harry searched his own tortured thoughts for dark memories that were not his, memories of a black-haired orphan boy who cried over the torn photograph of a woman...

Voldemort screamed and dropped his wand, sending it clattering across the floor, and suddenly the connection was broken. He and Harry both panted, and Harry felt his scar burning as pain rippled through him, competing with the power of the blood potion. He saw that Voldemort was unarmed; he picked up Ginny's wand and pointed it at the Dark Lord.

_'Diffindo!'_ Harry shouted, but the beam of light bounced away from Voldemort harmlessly as the dark wizard raised his hand, seeming to sweep the spell away with a wave of his arm. In the next second, Harry felt Ginny's wand wrench out of his fingers, and saw it go flying across the room, out of reach.

'I think we're beyond wand play at this point,' Voldemort sneered. 'Don't you? Although, I'm pleased to see you don't have your own wand. _Priori incantatem_ is so inconvenient.'

Harry swallowed, and then remembered the sword; he made a grab for it, but Voldemort was quicker. With another sweeping gesture, Voldemort sent the sword skittering across the stone floor.

'Ah, ah,' he said, regaining his composure and smiling coldly. 'Let's play fair, shall we, Potter? I'm nothing it not sportsmanlike.'

Harry swallowed again, pushing down at the rising tide of fear in his pounding heart. The potion radiated in his veins; the power was surrounding him. And yet, Harry knew it wouldn't be enough, it wasn't nearly enough. In the end, he had known it would come down to this, a battle of minds and wills. He felt his scar prickle again, felt Voldemort already begin to try penetrating the inner reaches of his mind. Harry pushed back, meeting Voldemort's gaze defiantly.

Now or never.

'Let's do this,' said the Boy Who Lived.

* * *

Chaos. That's what was happening. From the moment Neville dragged Ron from that death room, out of the way of Voldemort's curses, they had gone from one level of chaos to another.

The main room in the Department was now a maze of conjured, broken furniture and barriers, as Death Eaters, Aurors, teachers and students did battle. Draco darted into an alcove with Ginny, firing curses at Death Eaters as he went. Hopkirk and Lupin were nowhere to be seen, nor were Bill and Charlie.

Ron felt Neville tug him into a crouch as the two of them ducked behind an overturned cabinet; Ron stumbled as his foot caught on something, and he would have fallen completely had Neville not caught him by the shoulders.

'Oh, shit,' Ron whispered, looking down at the thing over which he'd tripped.

Or rather, the body.

It was Daphne Greengrass. Ron and Neville both sank to their knees on either side of her. Her eyes were open and glassy and unseeing, and there was an ugly wound in her chest. Neville lifted her wrist to check for a pulse. After a moment, he set her hand down gently and pursed his lips.

'She's gone,' he said.

Ron closed his eyes. 'Dammit,' he murmured, and in the next instant, a curse sailed over their heads and smashed into the wall beyond.

'Ron, we have to move, now,' said Neville, tugging on Ron's hand.

'We can't just leave her here,' Ron protested, wincing as he shifted his weight and felt the pull of his wound.

'We have to!' Neville insisted. 'Ron...you need the hospital. That wound...it's not going to stay closed forever, not with my spells.'

Ron put a hand across his torso. The sting was an agony and he swallowed. Unbidden, the vision of Hermione and the baby flashed before his eyes, and he nodded.

'Ron,' said Neville, 'I'll come for Daphne when this is over, okay? But for now...' He reached down and gently closed Daphne's hazel eyes.

'You're right,' said Ron. 'I...let's go.' They were just about to head out when Ron remembered something. He felt horrible even contemplating it, but his own promise kept thrumming in his ears.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, looking sadly at Daphne, who was tragically beautiful in death. He dug through the pockets of her jacket and found what he was looking for, and shoved it in his pocket.

_Scavenging from the dead. Lovely._

_You know you have to do this. You promised Hermione._

_I promise I'll always fight like hell to get back to you._

_Hermione._

Where was Hermione?

Before Ron could even consider the possibilities, the cabinet in front of them exploded, sending splinters of wood and glass flying every which way. Ron and Neville threw up Shield Charms at once, blocking the worst of the shrapnel.

'Move!' Neville bellowed, and he grabbed Ron's arm and heaved. Ron couldn't suppress a groan of pain as the wound on his stomach stretched and stung--truly, it felt like it would split open at any moment--but all the same, he jumped up and broke into a run as sudden adrenaline burst into his veins.

He and Neville dodged numerous curses being thrown at them by a Death Eater across the room. The Death Eater was fast; every attempt to knock him down was met with a countercurse. Ron moved a bit closer, blocking curses even as he threw hexes at the Death Eater, when the Death Eater's hood shifted and Ron caught a familiar flash of brown hair.

He blinked. It couldn't be...

'RON!'

The sound of his name, her voice, stopped Ron for a moment; he turned to see a halo of bushy brown curls bobbing towards him, a pair of denim-clad legs carrying the girl he loved better than anyone towards him. But just then the Death Eater Ron had been fighting with aimed her wand at Hermione.

'Hermione, look out!'

Hermione turned.

_'Decollare!'_

She dove to the stone floor.

_'Protego!'_ The spell from Ron's wand lit the room, meeting the Death Eater's curse and ricocheting in multiple directions.

'Down!' Ron yelled, yanking Neville down with him as a stray beam of light smacked the wall just inches above their heads. Ron groaned again as he felt his wound split at the edges, and Neville leapt up, firing a hex as the brown-haired Death Eater fled the room. Ron was half-tempted to chase her...he was sure...no, it wasn't possible...

But then the pain seized him again.

'Ron?' said Neville, ducking down again.

'Wound opened a bit,' Ron grunted, pulling up his t-shirt as the wound began to ooze blood.

'Shit,' Neville muttered. 'Here.' He quickly began to perform a Healing Spell as Ron scanned the room again. Hermione scrambled to her feet, only to duck out of the way of another curse, this one sent by Gregory Goyle.

'Hurry up, Neville!' Ron growled.

'One more!' Neville snapped, gripping Ron's arm to keep him from leaping up. 'Or do you want to start bleeding to death all over the place again? Just hold st--'

_'Examino!'_

The curse struck Neville right in the face; it had come from Theodore Nott's wand. Neville fell over, gasping and clutching at his throat.

'Neville!' Ron cried, and he pointed his wand at Neville's face. _'Finite!'_

Neville gasped as the curse was lifted.

'Neville, are you okay?'

'Fine,' Neville croaked. 'We have to--'

'Get the Mudblood!'

Ron's head snapped up in time to see Goyle throw a Stunner at Hermione.

_'Protego!'_ Ron bellowed, clutching his stomach, which still bled slightly at the corner.

His Shield Charm blocked Goyle's Stunner, but just then, Hermione leapt up again, aiming her wand at Goyle.

'Hermione, stay down!' Ron cried. He swung his wand around to aim it at Nott, who'd aimed his wand at Hermione. She squeaked and ducked just as Nott threw another Stunner; Ron blocked it, but before he could react, another jet of light came from another wand somewhere in the room, and caught Hermione across the back.

'No!' Ron cried, as Hermione tumbled forward. Ron leapt up.

'Ron, wait!' Neville yelled, as Ron raced towards Hermione.

_'Consecare!'_

Ron was in mid-run, ignoring the agony across his midsection, when the curse raced towards him. He had no time to raise his wand; instead, he dove to the right, as the charm that would have taken off his legs missed him by mere centimeters.

He landed hard and rolled, moaning as the wound across his torso stretched yet again. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, he leapt up, in time to see Goyle carrying an unconscious Hermione over his shoulder and into a doorway across the room.

'No!' Ron yelled again.

_'Impedimenta!' _Nott shouted. Ron blocked the curse, but several more came from Nott's wand; he was relentless, and it was all Ron could do to stay on his feet and block the curses that came at him before Goyle, Hermione and Nott slipped through the door, slamming it behind them.

At that moment, the door lurched, and Ron remembered something.

_'Flagrate!'_ he roared, and a huge, fiery _X_ appeared on the door that Nott, Goyle and Hermione had just gone through. Ron sank to his knees, breathing hard, as the doors began to spin wildly. The doors spun faster and faster as Ron leaned over, clutching his head with his right hand, and his wound with his left. The blue candle flames became straight lines of light, broken only by the orange of Ron's spell...

Just as suddenly as it had started, the doors stopped spinning. The only thing that mattered to Ron now was getting into that room. He staggered towards the door, clutching his wound with his left hand and pointing his wand out with his right, when he lurched dizzily to the side. His vision swam.

_Shit._

Ron pulled his hand away from his torso; it came away bloody.

_Neville..._

But Neville was out of reach, battling another Death Eater, and Ron had no more time; the Flagrate Charm would fade in a few minutes, and Nott and Goyle could have killed Hermione by then.

Ron ducked out of the way of the battle, which had picked up again, and took the two potions he'd pilfered from Daphne out of his pocket. He enlarged each with a tap of his wand and drank them both, feeling a surge of strength. A stray curse bounced his way and he blocked it. The battle raged on. Ron was twenty yards from his goal, but spells were flying everywhere. There was nothing for it. He would have to run for it, and hope he didn't get hit.

'Ron, what the hell are you doing?'

Ron whirled around to see Dean Thomas come up right beside him and yank him down, out of the way of another curse. His arm was heavily bandaged. Seamus Finnigan was just to the left.

'Dean,' said Ron, 'Seamus, I have to get to that door. Can you cover me?'

'Are you crazy? There's a million spells being thrown. We can't possibly block them all!' Dean protested.

'Guys, please help me,' Ron begged, and then he winced as his wound gave a sharp throb.

'Holy Mary, Ron, what happened to you?' Seamus breathed, gawping at the blood that had stained Ron's shirt.

'Never mind that, Nott's got Hermione in that room and if I don't get there now--'

'We get it,' said Dean. 'Go on. We'll do our best, okay?'

'Thanks,' said Ron. 'Be careful.'

'You, too,' said Seamus. 'On three. One, two, three...GO!'

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. Ron jumped up, immediately throwing Shield Charm after Shield Charm as Dean and Seamus gave mutual war cries and began firing spells. Ron was fueled purely by adrenaline, and in the seconds it took him to cross the room, the pain of his wound vanished.

_'Confractum!'_

Ron threw a Shield Charm just in time, and answered with an Asphyxiation Curse that caught Marcus Flint in the throat. Ron then threw himself against the door just as the last traces of the Flagrate Charm on it vanished. His hand closed on the doorknob.

* * *

Voldemort forced his mind outward again, and Harry's scar burst; Harry screamed and sank to his knees as Voldemort tortured his mind again. Over and over again Harry saw Ron dying, Ginny being raped, Hermione tortured...

_Push back!_

_I can't...it's too much..._

_Yes, you can! You _have_ to!_

Harry groaned as he struggled to focus his mind away from Voldemort's attack, as he tried to push back against the wall of mental horrors the Dark Lord forced upon him. Again Harry saw the boy in the orphanage, crying over the broken picture of his dead mother...

Voldemort roared and pushed again, and Harry saw his own mother, standing in front of his crib, begging for Voldemort to spare Harry's life.

_'Not Harry!'_

_'Stand aside, you silly girl...'_

_Stand aside..._

Lily's face was streaked with tears, her brown eyes...brown? Lily's eyes were green, not brown! Harry strained against Voldemort's power and focused on the woman's face. The woman who was not his mother, but looked rather like her. That face...he'd seen that face...in the picture belonging to the boy in the orphanage...

'No!' Voldemort screamed. Harry matched his scream and suddenly the connection was broken again, and both of them sank to their knees, panting. Voldemort clutched his head as Harry looked up at him, wild-eyed, furiously trying to tamp down the pain racing through his scar, his body.

'You didn't want to kill her,' he gasped. 'My mum...you didn't want to kill her...'

Voldemort growled and looked up; Harry felt the dark wizard push against his mind again, but this time Harry was ready, and he blocked it, albeit painfully.

'That's it, isn't it?' he said, grimacing with the effort of blocking Voldemort's power as he pulled himself to his feet. 'You didn't want to kill my mum...because she reminded you of yours...my Muggle-born mother--'

'I did kill your Mudblood mother!' Voldemort screamed, also lifting himself off his knees.

'But you didn't want to!' Harry shot back. 'You...you felt _pity_ for her--'

'NO!' Voldemort roared, and it was an unearthly sound, and Harry screamed from the pain of the Dark Lord's renewed attack. The next thing Harry knew, he was being lifted in the air, hurtled across the room. He saved himself from being smashed against the stone steps with a wandless Cushioning Charm, which turned the stone to pillows, but the effort cost him, and he sank to the floor again, leaving Voldemort still clawing at his mind. His scar would surely explode, his brain would begin to seep from the wound...surely...

_Harry..._

'What?' Voldemort hissed.

_Harry...fight him..._

_Ginny?_

Harry pushed back again, seeking, using Legilimency, until he found was he was looking for: the picture of the dead woman. Tom Riddle's mother...the weeping, black-haired boy...then, the boy as a teenager, entering a large house on a hill in the middle of the night...a confrontation...

_'You abandoned me, Father. Your own son.' The black-haired teenager was glaring at the man in front of him, a man who might have been his mirror image, were it not for the grey in his hair, the beard on his face, or the icy blue eyes. The boy had a wand in his hand, pointed at the man's heart._

_'You are not my son!' the man hissed. 'I have no son. You're nothing but an abomination, you're unfit to wear my name!'_

_'What makes you think,' the boy snarled, 'I want your filthy, pathetic Muggle name? After what you did to my mother? She was powerful, a sorceress--'_

_'Your mother was nothing but a liar and a whore,' the man spat. 'I wasn't about to shame my family by--'_

_'Crucio!'_

'STOP!' Voldemort shrieked.

_Keep pushing..._

_'Make it stop!' the man sobbed. 'Please! I'm sorry!'_

_The curse lifted._

_'Sorry?' the boy sneered. 'You really think your apologies can undo your crimes against me? Against my mother?'_

_The man couldn't speak; he just lay on the floor, crying._

_'We could have been a great family, Father,' said the boy. 'With your money and position, and my mother's skills...we could have owned the world. If only you had been a bit more...accepting. But you abandoned us. She died right after I was born and I was sent to that hell-hole and it's all because of you. Your kind tortured me and ridiculed me and hated me. You and your kind, who suppress magic because you fear it, because you can't begin to understand...your kind has dominated us...my mother's kind...my kind...for too long, but no more. I am not Tom Marvolo Riddle, Father. Know that. I would sooner eat my own flesh than wear your name ever again. The world will know me as Lord Voldemort, and everyone will bow before me and fear to speak my name.'_

_The man looked up at the boy who was his son; the boy's eyes glittered._

_'You're mad...' the man wheezed._

_'Perhaps,' said Tom Riddle, 'but either way, you are dead.'_

_'No...no, please!'_

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

'NO!'

Voldemort's scream mixed with Harry's again as he pushed back against Harry's onslaught, and the connection broke yet again, sending Harry sprawling to the stairs, where he caught himself painfully on his palms, scraping the flesh. He was sweating and his scar was so painful now, he knew it was only the effects of the potion and the rush of adrenaline keeping him from passing out. He groaned as he pulled himself up the stairs in an effort to put more distance between himself and Voldemort. It was only when he heard the rustling of the fabric, and the whispers behind it, that Harry realized how close he had come to the archway with the black veil.

At that moment Harry knew he should move, but before he could get away, Voldemort attacked again. Harry howled as Voldemort slammed into his mind, forcing upon Harry the images of Sirius dying, of his parents, of Dumbledore...

'They're all dead, Potter!' Voldemort screeched, and he stretched out his fingers, delving more deeply into Harry's head.

'Stop...' Harry begged. The pain was too much. The potion...why wasn't it helping him? He fought to find those happy memories, but Voldemort was the only thing he could feel. Voldemort, and pain.

And then Harry heard it. The whispering of the voices from behind the veil.

'They can't help you now,' Voldemort hissed, his voice lowering as he moved up the stairs. 'But you can be with them again.'

Harry groaned and clutched his forehead.

_No. It's a trick..._

The whispers were louder now.

'Harry...'

Harry sat upright, the pain in his scar momentarily forgotten.

'Sirius?'

'You hear them, don't you, Potter?' said Voldemort. 'Perhaps it's time you joined them. I'm sure they'd love to see you.'

_It's a trick!_

_'Imperio!'_

Harry raised his arm to block the curse, but he wasn't quick enough; he felt the curse envelop him and suddenly everything fell away. The pain in his body and mind vanished. He was practically floating. He felt...blissful. The voices were whispering more loudly now, drawing him close.

'That's it, Potter,' said Voldemort, his voice distant and almost...pleasant. 'Go to them. They miss you.'

Harry felt his legs pull him up, felt his feet carrying him up the stairs as his eyes fixed on the veil.

_'Harry...Harry...'_

'Mum?' Harry whispered? Surely that was his mother's voice.

_'Son...'_

'Dad?'

They were so close. Harry moved to the archway as the veil fluttered before him. The whispers were like drumbeats in his ears.

_'Go back...'_

'Sirius?'

_'Go back...'_

'Dumbledore! I can hear you!'

'Go on, Potter,' said Voldemort. 'Just a few more steps...'

* * *

The door was sealed. Ron heard a voice behind the door yell _'Crucio!'_, and Hermione's screams pierced the barrier separating them.

Ron tried several unlocking spells, but none of them worked.

_'Inflammare!'_ came Nott's voice from behind the door, and again, Hermione screamed.

_'Reducto!'_ Ron yelled, blowing the door in front of him to bits with the force of his curse. Pieces of wood slashed his face and arms but he didn't care; he burst into the room with his wand raised, in time to blast a Disarming Charm at Nott. Nott was quicker and blocked it, even as Goyle threw a Falling Jinx.

It wasn't a particularly powerful jinx; Ron could have leapt out of the way, but the pain of his wound and his weakening state slowed him down. Instead he blocked Goyle's jinx, just as Nott threw another curse.

It struck home; Ron cried out in pain as every muscle in his body seized up and he fell, hard, to the floor. His right hand smacked the cold stone painfully and his wand clattered away, rolling across the room.

_No..._

Ron's hand flew to his stomach; the wound was open at the corners again, bleeding slowly. He looked up gingerly, his muscles twitching from the force of Nott's curse, to see Goyle hauling Hermione roughly up from the floor. Tears were on her face, and Ron felt his heart constrict. He'd failed them both.

'Well, well,' said Nott triumphantly, sealing the door behind them. It was only then that Ron noticed they were in the Brain room, with the pearly, floating brains bobbing in the huge tank at the center. Nott strode over to where Goyle was holding Hermione, whose wand was in pieces on the floor. She was bruised on one side of her face, her lip was bleeding and Ron saw that her left leg had been badly burned; he pushed down nausea at the smell of burned flesh and denim.

'This is better than I thought,' said Nott. 'I get to kill Weasley and his Mudblood tart in the same night. How about that, Goyle?'

Goyle smiled, but it wasn't the usual dumb, oafish smile that Ron was used to; it was cold and unforgiving.

'The question is, whom do I kill first?' said Nott conversationally, tapping his chin lightly with his wand. He then leveled his eyes on Ron's stomach, where Ron had pressed his large hand.

'Ah,' said Nott, 'looks like you're halfway dead already. Maybe I'll just let you bleed out.'

'Do what you want to me,' said Ron, the pain in his wound worsening. 'Just let her go.'

'Ron...' Hermione whispered.

Nott laughed, and Goyle joined in.

'Quite the hero, aren't you, Weasel?' said Nott coldly. 'Leaping in here with your guts half falling out, trying to save your bird. That's bloody romantic, if you ask me. But alas...I'm not a romantic.'

Nott moved back to Hermione and gripped her hair, giving it a hard yank. She squeaked in pain.

Ron felt angry bile fill his throat; his eyes met Hermione's, and then he watched as her eyes moved to this left, settling on...

...his wand.

Ron resisted the urge to match her gaze and instead kept his eyes focused on Nott.

_This is madness. We're both going to die. I'm bleeding and I don't even know if I can do wandless magic in this condition..._

_No! You're not going to give up. Remember that vision...Hermione and the baby..._

_I hurt everywhere. I can't..._

'I reckon I'll kill her first, Weasley, and let you watch,' Nott was saying, pointing his wand and Hermione's exposed throat.

'Don't...' Ron begged, keeping his eyes on Nott for the moment, but fixing in his mind the exact spot where his wand had fallen.

'Yeah,' said Nott. 'But before I do that, I want to try her out first, I think.'

Ron's eyes, which had briefly flickered to his wand, snapped back to Nott's face, as the fury inside Ron's belly began to bubble.

'What?'

'What's it like, Weasley, fucking a Mudblood?' Nott asked, running the tip of his wand down between Hermione's breasts; she squirmed and started to cry out, but Goyle slapped a meaty hand over her mouth.

'Leave her alone, you bastard,' Ron snarled, forcing down the agony of his wound, that was bleeding more freely. He felt woozy again, and fought it.

'Does she like it rough?' Nott taunted, no longer looking at Ron but at Hermione, whose eyes leaked tears. 'I'll bet she does. Likes having a pureblood stick it to her good and hard.'

Nott's hands went to the front of Hermione's shirt and tore it open. Hermione squeaked behind Goyle's hand, and Ron moved to get up, but Hermione's eyes widened and she shook her head. Ron flopped back down, biting his lip. He knew what she was doing: she was stalling for time, trying to give Ron a chance to get his wand before Nott or Goyle could react.

Nott turned around to see Ron lying on the floor, clutching his stomach and moaning.

_At the very least,_ Ron thought, _I'm not faking this pain._

Nott smiled. 'Make yourself comfortable, Weasel,' he said nastily, 'while I shag your girlfriend. Then afterwards, if you haven't bled to death, we can compare notes.'

Ron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming in fury; his eyes went to Hermione, who pleaded with him silently to stay still for just a few seconds more...it was the only way...

The fury inside Ron was building.

Nott grinned horribly at Ron and then turned back to Hermione and Goyle.

Ron reached out his hand, concentrating with all his might on Summoning his wand, whispering the incantation under his breath. Nott and Goyle weren't watching him. The fury inside Ron increased as he heard Hermione struggle.

Nott grabbed roughly at Hermione's breasts; she screamed behind Goyle's hand.

The fury inside Ron reached the boiling point, and the pain of his wound melted away. When Nott shoved a hand between Hermione's legs, Ron snapped.

_'Accio wand!'_

'What?' said Nott, letting go of Hermione and turning.

_'Contorquere!'_ Ron howled, slamming Nott in the chest with a curse. Nott went hurtling through the air, spinning backwards and slamming against the back wall in a crunch of bones and a shout of pain.

In the same instant, Hermione reacted, stomping her foot onto Goyle's; he yelled and she twisted in his grasp, bringing her knee right up into his groin.

It wasn't a particularly hard hit--Hermione's injury to her left leg prevented that--but it was enough to make Goyle grunt and let go of her. Ron then threw a brutal Asphyxiation Curse that struck Goyle in the head, and within seconds, he crashed to the floor. Hermione moved to grab Goyle's fallen wand as Nott pulled himself up painfully; his face was ashen and he was holding what was clearly a broken right leg. Nott took aim...

'Hermione, get down!' Ron croaked.

_'Expelliarmus!'_ The spell hit Hermione across the shoulders, and she hurtled forward, losing her grip on Goyle's wand and smacking into the wall, knocking her jaw against the stone. She cried out in pain and Ron heard the snap of her jawbone breaking, and then she started to slide to the floor in a half-daze. Nott took aim again.

_'Avada--'_

'NO!' With a strength he didn't know he had left, Ron leapt up and pointed his wand at Nott.

_'--Kedavra!'_

_'Protego!'_

The jet of green light streaked towards Hermione, but Ron's Shield Charm met it halfway; the force of the charm was so powerful, so complete. Surely it was the strongest Shield Ron had ever created...

The Killing Curse didn't ricochet against the charm so much as split into multiple beams of light.

'Ron, duck!' Hermione screamed, or at least, that's what it sounded like--her broken jaw slurred her words somewhat.

Ron dove back down to the floor, groaning as his wound opened up a bit further. He looked up in time to see one fragmented jet of light zoom towards Nott, who stared at it, transfixed in horror for a split second before seeming to realize that his own curse was bouncing back at him. He opened his mouth to scream, but the curse hit him before a sound could come out.

He was dead before he hit the floor, his face frozen in an expression of terror.

In the next instant, there was a huge explosion that shook the entire room, as a second fragment of light struck the wall just behind Ron.

'RON!'

He heard Hermione's scream just as the wall came crashing down upon him, and then everything went black.

* * *

Harry hesitated. Something was strange. The voices were right there. His parents, Sirius, even Dumbledore. Why were they telling him to go back? Didn't they want him to come through?

'Go on, Potter,' Voldemort hissed.

_'Go back...' Sirius whispered._

_'A trick...' said James._

_'You are not ready to be here...' said Lily._

'I have to come,' said Harry, his voice oddly detached.

_'This is not your time, Harry...' said Dumbledore._

_'A trick...' said Lily._

Harry felt tears on his face. Why didn't they want him to come through?

'Please...Mum, Dad...Sirius...'

_Harry, don't leave me!_

_Ginny?_

'POTTER! DO AS I SAY!'

_Harry..._

_'Go back...'_

_'You must finish what you set out to do...'_

_'Go through the veil!' Voldemort shrieked._

_'You'll see us sometime...'_

_Harry..._

'I WON'T!'

The rush of the spell lifting shook the room only slightly less than Voldemort's scream; the force of the expelled magic caused Harry to stumble, and he might have fallen through the archway had he not caught himself with his hands against the beams.

His whole body shook as he turned around slowly, to see Voldemort on his knees on the floor. Behind Harry, the whisper of his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore hissed in his ears, telling him to go back, and Ginny...

_I love you._

And suddenly Harry felt it again: the power of the potion. Waning, to be sure, but still strong.

But it wasn't just the potion. It was Ginny's power; somehow, she was helping him, wherever she was. That meant she was still alive. And the voices of those he loved who'd gone on. James, Lily, Sirius, Dumbledore...

Harry forced his thoughts outward, stretching out his fingers as he did so, and entered Voldemort's mind; Voldemort wailed and gripped his head as Harry's scar began to burn.

'No!' Voldemort cried, pushing back against Harry, and the connection was broken. Harry pushed out again, and again, Voldemort was forced to defend himself, and Harry felt himself moving down the stairs, towards the Dark Lord, and suddenly they were circling, each pushing against the other's mind, trying to find some way to penetrate the protective barriers each had thrown up against the other. The energy in the room hummed and the floor vibrated; the black veil trembled, but Harry ignored it. His mind was focused on three tasks: one, to penetrate Voldemort's mind; two, to protect his own mind from Voldemort's attacks; and three, to get out of this room, and lead Voldemort to the room where this would end.

The connection broke again as both wizards pushed harder against each other. Both stumbled backwards, but Harry--now caught in a seemingly endless surge of adrenaline from the blood potion and from Ginny's distant Empath--wasted no time.

_'Accio wand!'_

Ginny's wand flew into his hand.

_'Accio sword!'_ Harry cried, and the sword flew towards him.

Voldemort roared and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, causing the sword to spin in mid-air and race towards Harry, the blade arcing right at his heart...

_'Protego!'_ Harry cried, throwing up his wand hand. The sword bounced against Harry's Shield Charm and clattered to the floor.

_'Accio!'_ Voldemort shrieked, but Harry was quicker.

_'Protego!'_ he yelled again, blocking Voldemort's attempt to take the sword and scooping it up in his left hand. Next instant, Voldemort summoned his wand, and Harry took the few seconds availed to him to make his move.

In strides borne of the blood potion, Harry sprinted to the door. Voldemort shrieked and threw a Killing Curse. Harry whirled about and blocked it with Ginny's wand, causing it to ricochet wildly. Both wizards ducked to avoid getting hit. Harry grabbed the doorknob.

_'Inflammare!'_ Voldemort cried.

_'Protego!'_ Harry bellowed, turning the knob with his other hand.

'You cannot win, Potter!' Voldemort screeched. 'Your friends will die, you will die! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! _Lacero!'_

_'Protego!_' Harry yelled again, flinging open the door.

'No!' Voldemort wailed, raising his wand again.

'Come and get me,' Harry snarled, and he dove through the door just as Voldemort sent a Killing Curse crashing into the wall, an inch from Harry's head.

* * *

_'Ron, I'm scared.'_

_'I know, love, I'm here.'_

_'It hurts...oh, god...it hurts so much...I can't stand it...'_

_'I know, I'm sorry...just squeeze my hand, okay?'_

_'The shoulders are out! Almost there!'_

_'Mrs. Weasley, we need one more push.'_

_'I can't! Oh, god...I can't do it...Ron...'_

_'Yes, you can, Hermione, come on...just hold my hand...you're so brave...'_

_'No...no, I don't want to...please don't make me...'_

_'Just one more push, Mrs. Weasley, and it's all over. I promise.'_

_'Come on, Hermione...you can do this...'_

_'On three, all right? One, two three...PUSH!'_

_'AAAARGGGGH! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, RON WEASLEY, YOU RANDY PILLOCK, I'M NEVER LETTING YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN!'_

_'OW, Hermione, my hand...!'_

_'BUGGER YOUR HAND...OH, GOD, THIS _HURTS_...I'M GOING TO _CASTRATE_ YOU, RON, FOR DOING THIS TO ME...'_

_'Is she serious--OW! I can't feel my fingers!'_

_'They all threaten to castrate their husbands...that's it, Mrs. Weasley, almost...THERE!'_

_'It's a girl!'_

_'A girl! Hermione, it's a girl! You did it!'_

_'I...I did? R-really? Oh, god...everything hurts.'_

_'I know, love, you're right, it's all my fault, men are horrible...hey, can you please give my wife something for the pain?'_

_'Drink this Mrs. Weasley...'_

_'Eugh! That's awful...but...thank god...it works...the baby...she's crying. Is she okay?'_

_'She's fine! Good set of lungs on her.'_

_'And just look at that hair! Red as her dad's!'_

_'Mr. Weasley, would you like to cut the cord?'_

_'Er, what?'_

_'The umbilical cord.'_

_'Oh...er, well, no thanks, I'll...leave that to you.'_

_'Are you sure? Fathers usually love to--'_

_'Forget it, he won't do it. He's squeamish about those things.'_

_'I am not!'_

_'Yes, you are, Ron.'_

_'Am not!'_

_'Ron, you can't even look at a tiny spider without shrieking like a girl!'_

_'I have a _phobia_ of spiders! It's a _medical_ condition!'_

_'Tell you what, why don't I just cut the cord?'_

_'Yes, do, Healer Smethwyck.'_

_'No, I don't mind cutting it, really--oh, oh YUCK! That's disgusting!'_

_'Oh, no, Ron, you're not squeamish at all.'_

_'Hey, I just watched you squeeze out our baby, and let me tell you, from where I was sitting it wasn't all that pretty, okay?'_

_'Before you go casting aspersions on what a live birth looks like you might try squeezing one out yourself and see hot it _feels!_'_

_'Er...Mr. and Mrs. Weasley...'_

_'What?'_

_'What?'_

_'Would either of you like to hold your daughter now?'_

_'Oh! Oh yes, I want to hold her!'_

_'All right, I'll just hand her to Dad, and he can give her to Mum, how's that sound?'_

_'Er...okay...but I'm not really sure...tell me again how to hold one?'_

_'Just like this, see? Hold her head there, and...that's it. There, you see? You're a natural.'_

_'Oh...wow.'_

_'Lovely, isn't she?'_

_'She...she's beautiful...Hermione...look at her. Look at our daughter.'_

_'Let me see...oh...oh god, Ron...she's perfect...she even has red hair...'_

_'Of course she has red hair...and your eyes...'_

_'Her eyes are blue, silly, like yours...'_

_'Only for now...she's going to have brown eyes...just like her mum...'_

_'We'll leave you two alone for a while. Call us if you need anything.'_

_'Ron...Ron, are you okay? Are you crying?'_

_'What? Oh...nah. Just, er, something in my eye.'_

_'Liar.'_

_'Okay, you got me there.'_

_'I can't believe this. We have a baby. What do we name her?'_

_'I thought you liked Miranda. You know, for Prospero's daughter.'_

_'You remember _The Tempest_?'_

_'I remember everything by Shakespoo, you've made me read everything he ever wrote.'_

_'Shakespeare.'_

_'Whatever.'_

_'Miranda. It is lovely. Miranda Jane Weasley.'_

_'That sounds brilliant.'_

_'It is brilliant. I love you, Ron. I love you so much.'_

_'I love you, too, Hermione...but...please don't castrate me, okay?'_

_'Ron...'_

'RON! Ron, can you hear me? Ron, please wake up!'

His eyes fluttered open.

His vision swam. He was on his back on something very cold and hard, with his head propped up on something soft. How had that happened?

'Ron?'

He blinked and looked up. A strange shape was above him, a blurred shape of brown and pale and...something wet fell on his cheek...it stung...

'Ron, please...'

The blurred shape came into focus. Brown eyes, swollen from crying. Parched lips, with a cut on the lower one. A bruised face with a swollen jaw. Hair so unkempt it was like a wild animal. The most beautiful sight Ron had ever seen.

'Hermione...' he croaked. He started to get up...

...and moaned with the helplessness of it, and with a sudden, sharp pain that almost made him pass out again. Everything hurt, everywhere.

'Don't move,' Hermione urged, stroking his hair with one hand. She spoke stiffly through her swollen jaw, which Ron remembered vaguely she had broken. And then, everything that happened came rushing back: getting slashed with Gryffindor's sword, getting out of the Death Chamber as Harry faced down Voldemort...

'Harry...' Ron whispered. 'Where's Harry?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione, tears still forming in her eyes.

'We have to find him,' Ron grunted, and he tried to get up again. Again, everything was agony, and he flopped back.

'Ron, please,' Hermione begged, 'don't try to move.'

Ron closed his eyes and nodded slightly; even that hurt. She was right. He shouldn't move. He opened his eyes and looked about the room as best he could without actually moving his head. Nott was lying on his back in a far corner; Ron remembered he was dead. Goyle was sprawled out in the opposite corner, dead or merely unconscious, Ron did not know. The room itself was full of rubble, save for the brain tank that had miraculously escaped destruction; Ron saw that all that had fallen on him--for that is what had happened, he remembered it now, the wall had come tumbling onto him after being destroyed by Nott's ricocheting Killing Curse--had been moved. Hermione must have moved everything. How on earth she'd managed it Ron couldn't imagine.

His hand strayed to his belly; the wound was sticky, as if it had opened again, and been healed.

'Don't touch it,' said Hermione urgently, gently pulling his hand away. 'I healed it up...had to use Goyle's wand...would have given you my potions but Nott destroyed them...'

She sniffed, and he looked up.

'What?'

'How did that happen, Ron?' she asked. 'That didn't happen when the wall came down on you.'

Ron told her.

'Oh, god, Ron...' she whimpered, and he felt her hand begin to shake, but she wouldn't stop stroking his hair. It felt good...soothing...

'S'okay,' Ron said. 'I'll be okay...I know it...'

All at once, the dream he'd had--was it a dream, had he just been asleep?--came back to him.

_Their child, Miranda Jane_.

Ron lifted his head; his vision began to swim again. He felt light-headed and remembered he was bleeding internally.

_I can't die...not yet..._

He felt so tired. He was cold...

'I'm cold,' he whispered.

'Ron, you have to stay with me, okay?' Hermione urged, her voice trembling with tears. 'You have to, do you hear me?'

'Cold...'

'Ron, keep your eyes open!' she ordered. 'Look at me.'

Ron forced his eyes to stay open, but it was so very hard. He was just so tired. He looked at her, with her messy hair and bruises and swollen jaw--that she must have healed, there was no way she could talk otherwise--and smiled.

'You're beautiful,' he said.

She sniffed again and gave a short, choked laugh. Her image was becoming blurry...

'Ron?'

_Stay awake! You can't die, you have to fight, you have to tell her..._

'Hermione,' Ron whispered. 'I have...to tell you...'

'What, Ron?' Her voice was tighter now; her eyes leaked tears that spilled onto his face, stinging a cut he only now realized was there.

'I saw something,' he murmured. 'Something...good...you and me...I...I--'

He couldn't breathe. Hermione was nothing but a blur...

'Ron!'

''Mione...' he gasped. Spots appeared in front of his eyes.

'Ron!'

* * *

Harry tumbled out the door and slammed it shut, and just in time, he remembered the Flagrate Charm, and cast it on the door a mere second before the doors began to rotate.

It was madness in the main room. Bodies were everywhere, some or most of them surely dead.

'Harry!'

Harry looked up to see Neville Longbottom limping as fast as he could into an alcove, with a deadweight Luna Lovegood over his shoulders. Luna looked to be alive, but was unconscious; Neville's calf was horribly wounded and covered in dried blood. Parvati Patil and Anthony Goldstein were in another corner, both of them sobbing over the body of Padma.

_Oh, no..._

Ernie MacMillan was leaned up against a wall, eyes closed and bleeding from a wound to the head, as Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott fired spells at three wounded Death Eaters.

'Harry!' another voice called, and Harry looked over to see Professor Hopkirk conjuring up new barriers for protection against the onslaught of the remaining Death Eaters' spells. 'Harry, get out of here!'

'You have to cover me!' Harry yelled. 'He's coming!'

'Harry, duck!' came a female voice; Harry did so, just in time to avoid getting hit with an Asphyxiation Curse; he turned to see Susan Bones level a Stunner at the Death Eater who'd attacked him.

'Cover me!' he called, urging Susan with his eyes. She nodded and turned to Justin and Hannah.

'Come on!' Susan cried. 'We have to help Harry! Lisa, Terry!'

Terry Boot, who was ten feet away and crouched behind an overturned table with Lisa Turpin and Blaise Zabini, nodded.

'We've got your back, Harry!' Dean called, and as one, students jumped up and began firing spells and counterspells in earnest. Harry wasted no time.

He grabbed the nearest doorknob and twisted; it turned in his hand. He let that one go and marked the door with a red _X_. He heard a scream and saw Hannah Abbott fall, clutching her side.

He moved to the next door. That knob, too, turned in his hand.

_'Inflammare!'_

'Dean, look out!' Lavender Brown shrieked.

'ARRGGH!'

Harry looked up to see Dean's whole body burst into flames.

_'Extinguo!'_ Seamus shouted, and the fire was put out almost at once, even as Lavender threw up a Shield Charm to block a Leg Breaker Curse aimed at Seamus. Dean crashed to the floor, writhing, and Harry caught the stench of burned flesh.

'Harry, move!' Hopkirk yelled, taking down two Death Eaters in quick succession. There were now only a few of them left.

Harry made a mad dash to the third door and grabbed the knob. It wouldn't budge.

'Hold them off for a few more seconds!' he cried, yanking the small gold key from his pocket. He leaned the sword against his hip, stuck Ginny's wand in his pocket, and stuck the key in the door--

_CRACK!_

Screams filled the room and for a moment, the battle stopped.

'POTTER!'

Harry spun around, his left hand still on the doorknob, just as Voldemort screamed, _'Carnificare!'_

_'Protego!'_ Harry cried, throwing up a Shield Charm just in time. Still facing Voldemort, Harry turned the key, and the doorknob turned with it. It clicked open.

_'Confractum!'_

_'Protego!'_ Harry cried again, and he flung open the door to the room that would hold his salvation.

'NO!' Voldemort shrieked.

The entire room seemed to have frozen, watching the exchange. Harry noticed suddenly that Voldemort was alone. There were no Death Eaters in the room that weren't dead or unconscious.

'Come and get me, Voldemort!' Harry taunted.

'I am no fool, Potter!' Voldemort hissed. 'I know what's beyond that door! You think it will save you? You go into that room and I'll seal you in there and kill everyone who crosses my path! Your friends are all as good as dead!'

'You have no Death Eaters!' Harry retorted. 'They're all down! There's no one to help you!'

'You think Lord Voldemort requires the help of servants to destroy all of you?' Voldemort snarled.

Harry hesitated. The blood potion was still working, but its effects were diminishing by the minute. There was also his wounded leg, which, he noticed, was throbbing; Hopkirk's anti-pain charms had worn off. His body was trembling with exhaustion. He was barely able to lift the heavy Sword of Gryffindor. The only hope for him was to lure Voldemort into that room, but how?

'Surrender now, and I might be merciful,' Voldemort hissed. 'I might only kill _you_.'

Harry swallowed and his eyes fell on Hopkirk, who was raising her wand slowly, slowly. He then focused on Voldemort but saw, from the corner of his eye, Hopkirk nod at a few students to her left. All of them were lifting their wands. Harry's eyes caught Hopkirk's again and she nodded to him, and he understood her unspoken message.

_Back up into the room...we'll do the rest..._

With shaking legs, Harry started to back himself into the room behind him.

'You seal your fate, Potter, if you in there!' Voldemort warned. 'All here will die!'

Harry swallowed again; his throat was a desert, and his arm shook as he clutched the sword. He took two more steps backward, flicking his eyes to Hopkirk, who had raised her other hand in a gesture to hold back. Harry forced himself not to look at the other students, for fear of giving them away. He took another step, wincing at the pain in his injured leg.

'Potter...'

Harry let out a breath. He could feel something coming from the room now, some sort of pulsing heat, a thrum of sound from behind him, a soft glow...one more step, then one more...putting pressure on his leg was torture...

'Potter!'

'NOW, HARRY!' Hopkirk cried.

Harry dove into the room, clutching the door knob with his free hand, and in the next instant, a dozen or more voices shouted, _'EXCIDO!'_

A dozen or more Banishing Charms struck Voldemort simultaneously in the back. With an unearthly howl he was hurled forward, thrown bodily into the room. Harry leapt out of the way just in time and slammed the door behind him, sealing it shut. Voldemort landed hard at the opposite end of the room, rolling onto his back, where he lay still.

Harry fought down a wave of dizziness and kept Ginny's wand leveled at Voldemort, even as his eyes took a few seconds to absorb the layout of the room.

It was a dimly lit space, circular and made up entirely of smooth, shining black marble from floor to ceiling. One wall was lined with curved shelves that were covered in flasks and phials; another wall contained bookcases, also curved, that were filled nearly to overflowing. The back wall had a line of desks. Each desk was painstakingly organized with one small, unlit lamp at the upper right corner; what looked to be a small microscope; a row of phials and a large flask, all currently empty; and a single quill to the left of each microscope. Each desk also had a pull out tray on the side upon which rested a stack of parchment. But for the massive cylindrical tank in the middle of the room, it was a rather ordinary space, and it reminded Harry quite strongly of the Muggle research laboratories he'd seen on the telly at the Dursleys' house.

It was the tank that drew Harry's eye. It looked strikingly like the tank found in the brain room, but in this tank, there was only liquid; a red, almost pearlescent substance that shimmered, casting a warm pink glow about the room. For a moment, it looked as if this liquid were perfectly still, like red glass, but then Harry noticed that it rippled, almost like silk in a breeze, and the ripples were accompanied by a soft thrum, like that of a...

'Heartbeat,' Harry whispered. The liquid in the tank was blood, but it was blood like Harry had never seen. Alive with magic, glowing and radiant. There were bright specks of silver that seemed almost to swim through the crimson, specks that sparkled against the dim light of the wall-mounted torches that surrounded the room. The glass tank was mounted on a gleaming brass pedestal with what appeared to be several ornate spigots at evenly placed intervals.

For some reason, Harry felt drawn to the blood; he couldn't say why. It seemed to pulse with power, energy...something. He didn't know what. He longed to touch it...

A grunt snapped Harry's attention away from the tank; Voldemort was pulling himself up, struggling to stand, and he sounded weak and out of breath.

_Now's your chance. Do it now. You have the sword. Do it..._

Harry hesitated for a moment--what would it feel like, to finally kill the wizard who'd been chasing him for the past seven years?--and charged. His leg protested, causing him to stumble slightly. Harry ignored the pain and forced himself forward, shoving Ginny's wand deeper in his pocket and taking the sword in both hands.

_Almost there..._

He lifted the sword up and swung it back, ready to deliver the blow...

_'Expelliarmus!'_

The shock of Voldemort's sudden, unexpected attack lifted Harry off his feet. The sword went sailing out of his hand to clatter across the marble floor, out of reach. Harry felt himself thrown backwards ten, twenty feet, until his back slammed into the glass tank of blood.

The momentum caused the back of his skull to smack against the glass, hard. Everything suddenly went blurry, and the heavy weight of unconsciousness pulled at Harry's brain as he slid to the floor.

_Don't pass out! Wake up!_

Harry fought the pull of unconsciousness and forced his eyes upward. Voldemort was above him now, glaring down at him. He held no wand in his hand, and he glowed with the power of dark magic.

Harry let out a breath. This wasn't supposed to happen! Why wasn't Voldemort curling up and dying on the spot? Or at the very least writhing on the floor in agony? The was the...the Love Room, wasn't it? Shouldn't the very nature of this room at least weaken Voldemort's powers?

'So it ends this way, Potter,' said Voldemort. 'Sad. Your brilliant plan failed, and now your world will end.'

Harry started to pull himself up when Voldemort stretched out two spindly, skeletal hands.

_'Crucio!'_

The curse flew from his fingertips, and suddenly Harry felt himself on the ground again, screaming in pain...nothing could hurt as much as this...

But he was wrong. Voldemort wasn't finished with him. Even as Harry writhed and squirmed under the Cruciatus Curse, he felt Voldemort penetrate his mind, and images came back. Sirius dying. His parents...Dumbledore...Ron...Hermione...Ginny...all the Weasleys...everyone he ever knew and cared about, all of them, dead...

Voldemort added another curse, and Harry felt his skin begin to split. Tiny cuts appeared on his flesh, slits that widened as blood began to seep...

His scar was on fire; it had to be on fire. Harry was still screaming as he clawed at the tan, grabbing for something, anything to hold onto, anything to lessen the pain as he died, because he knew Voldemort was killing him now...

Harry's hands landed in something warm and wet, something sticky and pulsing...

The curses lifted with a great gust of wind, and Harry felt Voldemort being yanked from his mind; he looked up to see the dark wizard thrown backwards, landing hard on his side. Voldemort wheezed in pain as Harry looked down at his hands, which were coated in blood. He looked up, and saw that spigot was leaking, dripping more blood onto the tops of his hands.

The blood...that mixed with his own...that had in it the blood potion...

Harry rolled over and lifted himself up halfway, his muscles protesting; he looked at Voldemort, who was picking himself up off the floor.

Their eyes met.

Harry raised his hands. Voldemort growled and raised his, and threw a curse.

Harry blocked it with his right hand.

Voldemort threw another curse, and again Harry blocked it; the blood that dripped from his soaked hands began to glow gold. The magic of this blood...it was what protected Harry now, gave him the strength to repel Voldemort's magic, even as his own body wanted nothing more than to collapse.

Voldemort threw yet another curse, and again, Harry blocked it. Voldemort was backing away now, his skeletal face stretched in an expression of horror. He threw another curse; Harry blocked it again, moving closer. Immediately after, he flung his right hand outward, sending a splatter of blood flying.

The drops of blood struck Voldemort in the face.

'NO!'

The scream that came from Voldemort's throat was one of sheer, unadulterated agony. His skin began to blister.

He reached up and tried to wipe the blood away as Harry stumbled through a sudden wave of dizziness.

_No...don't fall now...you're almost there..._

Voldemort shrieked as his hands, too, began to blister from touching the blood. Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate, to keep his balance, to focus on the source of strength found in this blood that mingled with his...the blood of people long dead...the blood of those who'd given their lives, who'd invoked the same ancient magic Lily Evans Potter had used to save her only son.

Harry flung his left hand, sending more droplets of blood, splashing Voldemort again in the face. The dark wizard screamed once more...

...and pushed his mind into Harry's. Harry stumbled again, reeling from the mental assault as Voldemort strained against his own pain to finish Harry once and for all.

_We'll die together, Potter._

Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, pushing back...pushing, pushing...

_And finally, the images came again. The happy images of Harry's life, the people he loved, who loved him. They were smiling at him, hugging him, Ginny was running her hands through his hair; Ron was clapping him on the back; Fred and George were telling him a joke; Hermione was helping him learn a charm; Mrs. Weasley was piling food onto his plate; Mr. Weasley was asking him about eckeltricity; Lupin was teaching him the Patronus Charm; Sirius was bounding alongside him, disguised as the black dog; Hagrid was pouring him tea and giving him one of those awful rock cakes; Dumbledore was visiting him in hospital; his parents...they were in hospital, too, and Harry was tiny and pink and wrapped in a pale blue blanket in his mother's arms, and her hair was sweaty and unkempt, and his father sat next to her, and they both looked down at him with tears in their eyes, tears of unrestrained joy, and Harry saw his father tell his mother that he loved her, and then he kissed her..._

All these images filled Harry's mind and his whole body, his heart, his soul...everything sang with the power of this room, this blood...

And amidst these glorious memories, other images came, memories that were not his. Memories that belonged to a dark-haired orphan boy who'd lost everything before he was old enough to even speak, a boy who'd learned only how to hate and fear everyone and everything.

Voldemort screamed again; his skin had burned away in places from the drops of enchanted blood. Harry moved forward, forcing his legs to carry him to his goal, still pushing relentlessly with his mind. Voldemort backed up into the shelf of phials and sent some tumbling to the floor, where they shattered...he raised his hands to throw a curse...

Harry leapt forward and pressed his bloodied hands to Voldemort's face.

They both screamed now; Voldemort grabbed Harry's wrists; Harry curled his fingers around Voldemort's neck, determined not to let go...

_Harry saw everything in Voldemort's life: the day Tom Riddle got his Hogwarts letter; the day Tom was sorted into Slytherin House; the day Tom had his first Potions lesson, his first Transfiguration Lesson with Dumbledore; his first Charms lesson; he saw Tom making friends--at eleven, Tom Riddle was already gathering followers, children who were awed by his talent, impressed by his drive, his relentless will to succeed; Harry saw Tom begin writing in a diary; getting his prefect badge; sneering at Hagrid; finding the Chamber of Secrets; speaking Parseltongue for the first time; loosing the Basilisk and watching as it killed Myrtle; framing Hagrid; sneaking into the Potions classroom in the middle of the night to brew who knew what; getting the Award for Special Services to the School; getting his Head Boy badge; gathering still more followers; disappearing to Eastern Europe for twenty some years, gathering still more followers; whispers of this new, powerful sorcerer, Lord Voldemort; the devotion of his followers, the fear of those he conquered; the transformation of Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort; the cold deadening of Riddle's eyes as he became more and more reptilian, more and more Lord Voldemort; the forming of the Dark Mark, and the initiation of the Death Eaters; the First War; Voldemort's experiments to defy death itself; his wanderings as a vaporous spirit, finding the unsuspecting Quirrell; reuniting with Wormtail; emerging an abomination from a cauldron in a graveyard..._

_But through all this, through all the murders and torture, there was a single photograph that Voldemort kept: a black and white photograph of a woman whose hair color Harry now knew to be flaming red, whose eyes Harry knew to be brown. A woman who resembled Lily Evans and Ginny Weasley. Tom's mother, the only woman, the only human being, Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, had ever truly loved._

_One more image, that of a seventeen year old boy placing flowers on a sad, faded, cracked headstone that read only _'Adriana Marvolo.'

_'I will avenge you,' Tom Riddle whispered to his dead mother's headstone._

_'Not Harry!'_

_'Stand aside, you silly girl...'_

'NO!' Voldemort screeched.

The mental connection broke and Harry was flung backwards, landing painfully on his back. The impact jarred his teeth and his glasses flew off his face and cracked. A wild wind of magic and energy filled the room, and light, impossibly bright light that nearly burned Harry's eyes as Voldemort's unearthly screams echoed off smooth black marble.

And suddenly, it was over.

The burst of energy that had come from the severing of the mental connection vanished, and the room became silent, but for the anguished, gasping breathing of two damaged wizards.

Harry groaned and rolled onto his side. Every muscle sang with pain; the cuts Voldemort had given him from the earlier curse had clotted, but stung badly; his head felt like it would split open; his injured leg throbbed; his muscles shook; his heart raced; he was covered in sweat.

But he was alive. He felt the breath in his lungs, and it hurt, but it felt good, too. He tasted blood on his tongue and wiped his mouth with his ripped sleeve. His mind was racing and yet so tired, all at once. He closed his eyes and fought to breath...just to breathe...to stay awake...sleep would feel so good right now...

He heard a wheeze from the other side of the room, and looked up, his neck muscles protesting as he lifted his head.

Lord Voldemort lay on the ground thirty feet away, crumpled in a fetal position on his side. His skin smoked from where Harry had burned it with the blood. His body was shriveled and looked small and pathetic. Harry stared at the dark wizard for what felt like a full minute, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Then he heard another sound issue from Voldemort's throat: a sob.

Lord Voldemort was weeping.

Harry swallowed painfully and pulled himself up. It wasn't possible. Lord Voldemort could not be crying.

Harry couldn't stand; his legs simply wouldn't cooperate yet, so he crawled instead. Crawled on all fours towards Voldemort, vaguely aware that for all he knew, the dark wizard could be playing a trick on him, could be faking injury in order for Harry to drop his guard. Harry reached in his pocket and withdrew Ginny's wand, and crawled closer. Voldemort still wept.

Not three feet away, Harry found the strength to stand upright on his knees, Ginny's wand outstretched in his hand. He looked down at Voldemort, who was once Tom Riddle. The wizard who'd killed his family, who'd killed and tortured countless others, and Harry saw the tears leaking from the red eyes.

Voldemort wasn't faking. But Voldemort wasn't dying, either. Harry could still feel the wizard's energy in his scar, that tingled. And yet, there was no real magic left in Voldemort anymore.

Harry looked at the dark wizard's reptilian face and felt something he never, ever expected to feel: pity.

_No! You can't pity him! He murdered your parents! He tried to kill Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny! He tortured the Longbottoms...and Sirius...what about Sirius?_

Tears flowed silently out of the red eyes and Harry found he couldn't look away, found that the hatred he'd so long nursed for his enemy fell away, to be replaced by the worst kind of sadness he could imagine: the sadness of this wasted life on the floor before him, a life that hadn't really been all that different from his own, once.

_This could have been me._

_It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities._

'Dumbledore...' Voldemort whispered, '...was right.'

Harry stared at Voldemort, knowing precisely what the dark wizard meant.

_There are things worse than death._

Harry gazed at Voldemort and knew it to be true.

Voldemort opened his mouth and spoke a single word.

'Please...'

Harry felt a sudden lump in his throat.

_Finish it, Harry._

Ron's words echoed in Harry's mind, and he pulled his head up to scan the room. The sword was under one of the desks. He walked towards it, keeping his eyes on it, for if he changed his focus the room would start to swim.

The blade still gleamed with Ron's blood, that hadn't dried. Harry bent over and picked it up by the handle.

_Finish it._

Harry swallowed, his throat tightening against the lump in it. He didn't want this. He couldn't. How could he murder Voldemort now, when he was nothing anymore? Because it was murder, like this. It wasn't self-defense. Voldemort was finished. He could harm no one.

For a moment, Harry entertained the idea of simply leaving the room and bringing in a team of Aurors. Voldemort could go to Azkaban. Yes. He could rot there, pay for his crimes in the most appropriate way possible. He could spend the rest of eternity knowing just how much worse living could be than dying. Living without magic, without the very thing that had sustained him for so long, had made him so powerful, had given him succor during his years of hell in the Muggle orphanage.

_Finish it._

Harry lifted the sword, pointing the blade up, and bit his lip. Ron. He had stood in the way of the blade, he'd taken the blow meant for Harry, so that Harry could do what he was destined to do. Ron...who might be dead. Harry closed his eyes and felt a tear slide down his cheek, stinging the cuts there.

_Neither can live while the other survives._

Harry thought of his parents, of Sirius. They had sacrificed for him, too. So that he could live. Not survive, but live.

_Neither can live while the other survives._

_Finish it._

_Ron..._

Harry opened his eyes and took a deep breath, and turning on his heel, he limped slowly back to where Lord Voldemort lay on the ground. The dark wizard had rolled onto his back and was looking up at Harry with tears still streaming from the corners of his red eyes.

_It's murder._

_He doesn't deserve the mercy of death._

_Finish it._

_The prophecy..._

'Please...' Voldemort whispered.

Harry pressed his lips together, his eyes boring into Voldemort's. His scar tingled. He took the sword in both hands, holding the handle up, the blade pointing down, over Voldemort's heart.

Voldemort swallowed once, his eyes never leaving Harry's. Harry's vision blurred as tears came freely. He lifted the sword, his eyes still holding Voldemort's.

Voldemort closed his eyes; with an anguished cry, Harry fell to his knees, driving the sword into the dark wizard's chest.

Voldemort gave a scream that blended with Harry's, and his body arched up, driving the sword further through, to that the tip exited out his back, and suddenly the room was filled again with swirling magic. Harry's scar burst open and a great, white light poured from it, white light that enveloped the sword, Harry's hands that shook as he held the blade in place, white light that surrounded Voldemort's body as it shrank and shriveled and disintegrated, as the magic of thousands of years, as Harry's blood, and Ron's, and the blood of people Harry had never met--people who'd given their lives for those they loved, as Lily and James Potter had, as Sirius Black had--destroyed every last molecule that was Lord Voldemort, until there was nothing left but a pile of Voldemort's blood stained robes, and Harry, holding the sword, the point of it driven somehow into the marble floor, the blade clean of Ron's blood.

Harry opened his eyes and realized what he had done, and he fell forward, his head in his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

* * *

**A/N: First things first: I apologize for the long wait in getting this chapter up. In the past two and a half weeks my only sister has gotten married and I had to cook Thanksgiving dinner for thirteen people. I have been, needless to say, extremely busy. Furthermore, this chapter is by far the most important chapter in the whole story; it is truly the culmination of everything towards which I've been writing, and I wasn't about to rush things. I appreciate your patience.**

**Second, a huge, huge thanks to my beta team of lina and Buckbeaky. lina has been my primary beta, and Buckbeaky picked up the story for lina while she was without Internet access over the summer. Both have been a huge source of support and inspiration for me, and without them, this story wouldn't be what it is. Special thanks, too, to lina for her brilliant suggestions for this chapter, which I have included, as well as the heroic effort she put into getting the chapter back to me in the face of almost comical Internet and e-mail issues.**

**Third, I realized after I wrote the final battle sequence that it bore some resemblance to a similar scenario in the film _Return of the Jedi_. Unconscious inspiration, I suppose, from George Lucas, but I think it works here. Voldemort is obviously not Harry's father--if anything, I'd say Voldemort is more of an Emperor Palpatine figure, but with Anakin Skywalker's tragic history--but as I've been writing this story, and in looking repeatedly at the Harry Potter canon, I came to believe in a redemptive scenario in which Voldemort's end is an act of mercy on Harry's part. _Order of the Phoenix_ has that battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore, in which Dumbledore tells Voldemort that his greatest weakness is his fear of death. I felt it very important to end Voldemort's life addressing that issue: that Voldemort finally does see what is worse than death, and that is the wasted life he's lived, because he choose a path of hatred and fear. One of JKR's biggest themes in the books is choices and how they shape the lives of the characters, and I felt it important to emphasize that. Beyond this, though, the parallels to _Star Wars_ are obvious. Harry and Voldemort, like Anakin and Luke, have difficult childhoods and are very gifted. One chooses a path of darkness and the other a path of righteousness, but the good guy has to be tested and basically put through the wringer and overcome his most selfish and darkest instincts and sacrifice a hell of a lot in order to fulfill his destiny; the bad guy's death must hold some level of tragedy for the good guy, so that we see just WHY the good guy is, in fact, the good guy: because he is merciful, because he can pity his worst enemy. Harry is, ultimately, not a hero not because he destroyed Voldemort but because he released Voldemort from the hell of his existence, as Luke does with Darth Vader. I hope I can be forgiven for tapping into George Lucas's world a bit in this "final reckoning" of Harry and Voldemort.**

**Finally, this is the final push. I can't determine how many chapters are left, but I can say with confidence that the end is definitely near. I thank everyone for sticking with this story, and for your enthusiasm and your reviews.**


	51. Chapter Fifty One: A New Complication

_Chapter Fifty-One: A New Complication_

'Harry!'

Harry heard the pounding on the door, but he didn't move. Not yet. His eyes burned and were swollen from crying; his body was one giant nerve-ending of pain. He didn't know how long he'd been lying on the ground.

He lifted his head, his neck protesting sharply; his eyes fell on the spot on the floor where Voldemort had lain. The sword protruded from the chest area of the dark wizard's robes, where a great blood stain had formed, but the blade itself was wiped clean of Ron's blood.

_Ron..._

_Ginny..._

'Harry!'

_Get up...get up..._

Harry pulled himself up to his knees, tried to raise himself up on his feet...and stumbled. He realized his glasses had come off. He summoned them with a flick of Ginny's wand and did a Reparo Charm before sliding them slowly up the bridge of his nose.

_Get up..._

He tried again, and this time, he made it. He was standing. He was alone. And he had just defeated the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever known.

Harry was no longer the Boy Who Lived. He was the Boy Who Won.

He swallowed. It didn't feel like a victory. On the contrary, it felt horrible. He looked down at his hands, which were now sticky with drying blood. These hands had taken a life tonight. A vile, twisted, evil life that had wreaked havoc on innocents, an abomination of flesh that was brought into being by murder and suffering, and yet, it was a life all the same.

'Harry!'

The pounding on the door increased, matching the pounding in Harry's head. He scowled as he dragged himself forward; he didn't want to face the world now, not when he knew they would praise him as a hero. Not when he knew everyone would be happy about what he'd done.

Harry closed his eyes and his hand went instinctively to his scar; it was cool now, and suddenly he noticed that it didn't hurt. Not one bit. It didn't even tingle or prickle.

_He's gone. He's really gone. Voldemort's gone forever._

_So why do I feel like shit?_

'Harry, open the door!'

It was Lupin's voice calling, and he sounded very worried. For a moment, Harry considered that everyone in the main room might be wondering if in fact he was still fighting, or if he'd failed. Then he realized that but for the knocking on the door and voices, there were no other sounds. The battle outside must be over.

He forced himself to walk faster, wincing with every step on his bad leg, until he reached the door, and he pulled it open.

There were what looked like dozens of people in the main room, all of them wounded in some way or other, all of them wearing the same wide-eyed expression, fearful and expectant. All of them looking as if they wanted to say, 'Well?'

Lupin was at the door, eyeing him warily.

Harry took in the room more carefully; bodies littered the floor. Many Death Eaters, but many students and Aurors. The stench of blood might have been overpowering, had Harry not been exposed to it in such copious amounts just now. The Death Eaters were all dead or unconscious, that much was obvious, but Harry felt no relief that they'd been destroyed. Not when he looked about the room and saw Blaise Zabini cradling Daphne Greengrass in his arms, tears running down his face. Not when he saw Dean Thomas lying on the ground, moaning in pain as Seamus and Parvati applied thick, oozing burn salve to his wounds; Parvati's eyes leaked tears and she occasionally glanced at her dead twin, whom Anthony Goldstein rocked in his arms with a wide, numb expression on his face.

Harry felt no relief, either, when he saw Hannah Abbott sobbing over the bleeding body of Ernie MacMillan, and Mandy Brocklehurst crying over the limp form of Morag McDougal. Professor Hopkirk was doing healing spells over Justin Finch-Fletchley's slashed arm. Luna Lovegood was curled on the floor, looking for all the world as though she was sleeping, but the bruises on her face indicated her role in the battle.

There were others, too. Aurors. Harry felt his throat nearly close when he saw Kenneth Towler on the ground, half in Tonks's lap, with a slash across his throat. She was crying silently and holding his dead right hand in hers. Other Aurors were dead, too, Aurors that Harry knew only in passing. Many more on the ground were badly wounded, as other students and Aurors desperately administered potions and healing spells. The air hummed with incantations and the glow of magic. Lisa Towler and Susan Bones worked on Terry Boot's left leg, which appeared to be broken. James Marchbanks attended the broken ribs and slashed shoulder of Mary Stebbins. Kingsley Shacklebolt was bent over another Auror, forcing Blood Clotting Concoction down his throat.

Harry swallowed down the urge to cry again.

_So much death, so much suffering...I knew some of these people...I knew them..._

Lupin took a few painful steps towards Harry; he was bruised and bloodied and looked about as bad as Harry had ever seen him.

'Harry...' Lupin said, his voice hoarse.

'He's gone,' said Harry, his voice flat.

The hum in the room went suddenly silent.

'You--you mean--' said Susan Bones haltingly.

'Voldemort's dead,' said Harry dully.

The silence was absolute; everyone stared at Harry, as if waiting to gauge his reaction.

'You really did it, then,' said Zacharias Smith, who wiped some blood from a cut on his lip.

Harry glared at him for a moment, and Smith shrank back slightly.

'Yeah,' said Harry harshly. 'I did it.'

He looked about the room, daring anyone to congratulate him, but nobody did. They all simply stared at him, and Harry realized they were afraid. Afraid of him, because of what he'd done.

_Good,_ he thought viciously. _Better this than having them cheer. I'd throw up if they started cheering..._

'Tonks, Marchbanks,' said Kingsley, 'let's...get inside that room and collect the body.'

'There is no body,' said Harry. 'Just his robes. He...I dunno what happened, exactly...but there's no body.'

'Fine,' said Kingsley. 'We'll take his robes, then. For testing. The...the Ministry lab will want confirmation...of...of what happened.'

Harry nodded dimly; his mind was swirling and he ached all over. He only wanted to sleep...he watched Kingsley, Tonks and Marchbanks walk slowly towards the room in which Voldemort had died...

And then his eyes fell on another corner of the room, where Charlie was applying a damp compress to Bill's forehead; Bill was unconscious and when Charlie pulled away the compress, Harry saw a slash across his forehead. Seeing the shock of red Weasley hair brought Ron and Ginny slamming into Harry's conscious mind again.

'Prof-Remus,' said Harry urgently. 'Where's Ginny? Did you see her? She was with Malfoy when--'

'I saw her,' said Lupin. 'I helped her and Draco get to the third floor; he took her to hospital. She was fine.'

'And Ron? Did he get to hospital, too?'

'He's...he's in the Brain room,' said Lupin slowly. 'He was badly hurt. Neville was working on him, and Hermione. They're trying to stabilize him before they move him to hospital. I'm sure he'll be just--'

The sound of a frantic voice--a voice belonging to Neville Longbottom--snapped everyone's attention away from Harry. Neville shoved his way through the crowd.

'Neville?' said Harry, alarmed at the look on the other boy's face for a split second before remembering...

_Ron!_

'It's Ron,' he said. 'You'd better...you'd better come.'

_No. No, no, NO!_

Harry pressed his lips together. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.

'Come on,' said Neville, gesturing at Harry to move. Harry didn't say a word to Lupin, didn't even feel his feet under him as he walked after Neville, towards a door that bore the faint traces of a fading Flagrate Charm.

Neville shoved the door open. Harry hesitated.

_I can't. I can't walk through that door and see Ron dead. I won't._

'Harry...' Neville whispered.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and then stepped through the door.

He opened his eyes and felt his stomach plummet to the floor.

Hermione was there, sobbing and kneeling over Ron, pressing down on his chest in a quick, brutal rhythm. Ron's head lolled to the side, and his eyes were half closed. His wound looked to have opened again; his skin was chalk-white. He looked...

Harry glanced at Neville, who almost imperceptibly shook his head.

'Harry!' Hermione cried. 'Harry! He's not breathing.'

Her words were stiff and a bit slurred; if Harry had to guess, she'd broken her jaw and healed it herself, but hadn't done a great job of it. Harry looked at Neville again, whose face told him all he needed to know.

_It doesn't matter what you do. He's as good as gone._

_No!_

Harry glared at Neville for a brief moment before hurtling over to Ron and Hermione. It clunked into Harry's brain that Hermione was doing chest compressions.

_CPR.__ Cardio-pulmonary...whatever._

'Harry, you have to do mouth-to-mouth on him!' Hermione cried, her face leaking tears.

'Okay...okay,' said Harry, and he forced himself to remember the day they'd done CPR training in Defense.

Harry looked down at Ron and felt another wave of nausea.

_Don't freeze up you, idiot! Wake up and save his life!_

_Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation...mouth-to-mouth...he needs to breathe...his airway's obstructed..._

And then it all came rushing back to Harry. He placed a hand under Ron's neck, trying to ignore how cold the skin was, and tilted Ron's head back. With his other hand, he pinched the bridge of Ron's long, freckled nose. Ron's mouth was already half open.

_Please, god or Merlin or whoever, let this work...he can't die..._

Harry bent down, thinking quite stupidly for a moment about how weird it would be to put his lips against Ron's, when Hermione said, 'Breathe.'

Harry took that to mean he should do just that; he pressed his mouth over Ron's, remembering something about 'forming a tight seal,' and blew hard into Ron's mouth.

_Two whole seconds...blow for two seconds..._

Ron's chest rose, and Hermione said, 'Again.' Harry complied.

Before Harry could breathe a third time, Hermione went back to chest compressions, sobbing all the while. Harry remembered just in time that the two actions were done separately, in a kind of pattern; Hermione counted to herself, doing fifteen compressions, and then said, her voice tearful, 'Breathe.'

Harry obeyed, and it went on for another minute, Hermione growing increasingly tearful, both growing increasingly desperate. Ron still wouldn't breathe, and Hermione let out a choked sob as she once again pressed down on his chest.

'Don't you die on me, Ron Weasley!' she cried. 'Harry, breathe!'

Harry did, willing every particle of breath in his body into Ron's.

_Breathe, Ron. Please. Don't die. Don't leave. You can't..._

More compressions.

'Come on, Ron,' Harry muttered, feeling his eyes well up. He breathed into Ron's mouth again, and a second time, and Hermione resumed the rhythmic pressing on Ron's chest. Harry looked up and saw that Lupin was at the door, along with a few students.

'Potions!' Harry yelled. 'Doesn't anyone have any emergency potions?'

'No, Harry,' said Neville. 'Everyone's used theirs--'

'Breathe!' Hermione cried, and Harry breathed into Ron's mouth again, and again.

'Please, Ron...' Hermione sobbed, even as she pressed on Ron's chest yet again.

Harry watched her for a moment, and then looked up at Neville, who had tears running down his face now. He shook his head again, this time noticeably. Harry then looked at Lupin, whose own eyes shone with tears.

Harry felt his throat close up.

_No!_

He looked back at Hermione. His chest hurt. His heart was going to explode.

_It's not true. It's not true!_

'...fourteen, fifteen. Harry, breathe!'

'Hermione...' Harry whispered.

'Breathe!' Hermione repeated frantically.

But it was too late. Harry had seen enough death to know...

_Not Ron! NOT RON!_

'Harry, why aren't you breathing?' Hermione shrieked, but before he could stop her, she leaned down and breathed into Ron's slack mouth herself, twice, and then began to compress his chest yet again.

'Hermione...' Harry croaked, and he put his hands on her shoulders. 'Hermione, he's...he's...'

Hermione froze, her hands on Ron's chest, one hand over the other, and then her body began to tremble. She looked up and her eyes met Harry's. Harry felt his lower lip trembling, saw her face collapse.

'NO!' she screamed. 'He's not dead! He's not!'

And suddenly she launched herself at Harry, pounding her small fists on his chest. Harry grabbed onto her and crushed her to him, even as she struggled.

'He's not dead, he's not dead!' she wailed. 'He's not dead! No...no, no, no! Not Ron...not Ron...'

Hermione's struggles abated and she collapsed with an anguished cry against Harry, who clung to her desperately. He buried his face in her frizzy brown hair and sobbed with her over Ron's body, and he cursed himself for ever being born, for ever having brought his two best friends to this.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Ron hurt. Everywhere. Someone was pressing on his chest, which hurt a hell of a lot. Someone else was kissing him, or at least that's what it felt like at first, until a bunch of air was blown down his throat._

_Weird.__ Then he heard voices. _

_Hermione?_

_Hermione!_

_And...__Harry! Harry was alive. That meant..._

_He'd done it. He'd beaten Voldemort._

_But...wait. Something was wrong. Ron felt it...he was...no! He couldn't be...not yet, he wasn't supposed to go yet...not before he became an Auror and married Hermione and they had Miranda Jane!_

_Hermione stopped pressing on my chest. Why are they crying? Do they think I'm...am I...?_

_And then Ron heard something else. Something odd and beautiful, something that sounded a bit familiar. He was sure he'd heard it before...it was...music, the most beautiful music in the world...where had he heard it before?_

_He focused on the music and forgot about the pain in his body...there was just the music..._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Harry heard it before he really recognized it for what it was.

His mind had been focused on a single, terrible thought: _Ron's dead._

And then more thoughts...

_Not Ron! Let it be me, I'll...I'll find a time turner, I'll go back and I'll take the blow of the sword, I'll do anything...please...just...not Ron!_

But then that faint trilling came, and invaded his hearing, blended with his own crying and Hermione's sobs, and the sniffing of Neville and Lupin...

The trilling grew louder, and it wasn't trilling at all. It was...music.

Harry let go of Hermione for a moment, focusing on this new sound. He noticed that there were many more people in the room, all of them crowded behind Lupin, all of them who might have only a moment ago been looking sadly at Ron but were now casting their eyes about the room, searching for the source of this music, that grew closer.

Harry's eyes widened. Not just any music. He'd heard it only a few times before. Eerie, haunting, unearthly music that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his heart feel huge...

Hermione, Lupin and Neville had stopped crying altogether, and suddenly Harry realized he had, too. The music reached a pitch so resonant, so vibrant that it made Harry's very bones hum, and even as the others in the room clapped their hands over their ears, Harry breathed out a single word...

'Fawkes.'

There was a flash of light, crimson and gold, and the phoenix appeared in midair, flapping his brilliant wings. He swooped past the awed crowd and flew towards Harry.

_No, not towards me.__ Towards..._

'Hermione, back up,' Harry urged, and the two of them backed away from Ron's limp form just as the phoenix landed softly next to him.

Fawkes gave a soft chirrup, and Harry blinked and went into action.

'Hermione, help me lift Ron up,' he said urgently, and together the two of them pulled Ron to a reclining position. Fawkes twittered and moved gently towards Ron as Harry tilted Ron's head back.

_Please...please let this work..._

'Fawkes, d'you think you can--'

But the phoenix was already lowering his resplendent head, and Harry felt a rush of hope as the pearly tears slid from Fawkes's eyes into Ron's open mouth.

One drop, two, three...and then a few more. Harry had no idea how Ron was supposed to swallow them, given he was--

_No! He...he this really work?_

Fawkes moved away from Ron's mouth, chirruping again, and then bent his head over Ron's stomach. Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then pulled back Ron's bloodied shirt, revealing the gaping wound across his belly. She pushed Ron's left hand, which had lain on the wound, up to his chest.

Fawkes dripped several more tears onto the wound, and the crowd gave a gasp as the wound sizzled and began to heal.

_If the wound's healing, then he _has _to be alive! Doesn't he?_

Harry, who was still holding Ron up, glanced down at his best mate in the world, his brother.

'Come on, Ron...' he begged.

It had to work. Phoenix tears had healing powers. Extraordinary healing powers. Why hadn't Harry thought of bringing a whole phial of them? Of all the stupid things he could have done!

_Breathe, Ron._

Harry knew Hermione was willing Ron to breathe, just as he was.

_Breathe, Ron. Breathe. Wake up. Don't die..._

Fawkes trilled and flew upwards and over to Harry's side, landing softly on the floor.

_Breathe, Ron..._

'Harry!' Hermione gasped, and Harry looked down to see Ron's left hand twitch.

Harry bent close to Ron's face.

'Ron?'

And then he felt it. It was so faint as almost to be non-existent, but it was there all the same.

A warm, living breath.

Harry snapped his head up, ignoring the twinge of pain in his neck, and his eyes met Hermione's, and for a moment they stared at one another, almost refusing to believe it was possible.

'Out of my way!'

The sound of Snape's voice caused Harry and Hermione to turn. They looked up to see Snape shoving his way through the crowd. He limped his way over to them, his face tight and pale, only his eyes betraying the pain he felt as he favored his right leg. His face was bruised; there was a cut above his right eye and his left ear looked almost gruesomely mangled.

'Potter,' he said, and Harry saw that Snape had in his hand a satchel of emergency potions.

Harry let out a breath, and for the first time in ages, if not his entire life, he was glad to see the Potions Master.

'Out of the way, Miss Granger,' Snape barked, and Hermione scrambled out of the way as Snape bent down.

He enlarged and uncorked every potion he had with him and proceeded to pour them carefully into Ron's mouth.

'Help him swallow,' Snape snapped, and Harry obeyed, massaging Ron's bruised throat every time Snape poured a potion down it.

Harry lost count of how many potions Snape had, but the supply seemed endless. It was only then that he noticed that the room was completely silent, and he felt the weight of dozens of eyes upon the scene.

Snape gave Ron one last potion, and then ordered Harry to set Ron down. He looked at Hermione for a long moment as Snape stood up carefully, still favoring his right leg.

Then Harry and Hermione both looked down at Ron, or more accurately, the entire room looked at Ron. At that moment, Charlie burst into the room, holding up a limp but conscious Bill.

The first thing Harry noticed was Ron's chest. It rose, just a bit, as he breathed.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand.

The color began to return to Ron's face. His breathing grew deeper...Fawkes the phoenix disappeared in a flash of red and gold, leaving behind a single feather, but Harry hardly noticed...

'Come on, Ron,' Harry begged. 'Wake up...wake up...'

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Wake up!

_Someone was talking to him, which seemed a bit strange, because he was sure he'd just heard that beautiful, weird music. _

Wake up!

_The voice was insistent, and familiar._

Come on, Ron.

_A second voice, also familiar.__ Their voices weren't as beautiful as the phoenix song--yes, that's what it was, Ron remembered now--their voices were more beautiful than phoenix song._

Wake up, Ron, please...

_And yet Ron was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. At least his body didn't hurt so much anymore. He wondered how that happened. But his throat hurt, a lot..._

Wake up!

Oh, all right!

Harry's fingers were numb from Hermione squeezing them. He was just about to ask her to ease up her grip when Ron eyes fluttered.

The entire room gasped at once.

'Ron?' Harry whispered.

Ron let out a long breath.

'Ron...' Hermione pleaded, smoothing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

Harry held his breath; he couldn't feel his fingers at all anymore, but he didn't care about his hand, it was just a stupid hand...

'H-Harry...'

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, mercifully releasing Harry's fingers, as Ron's parched lips moved to form Harry's name.

'Ron!' Harry croaked.

Ron let out another breath, and finally, mercifully...the blue eyes flickered open.

The room erupted, and Hermione burst into tears. Harry cried, too, he cried freely, he didn't give a damn who saw him now.

'Ron...' Hermione sobbed, and she leaned down and kissed him all over his face.

'Ow...' Ron muttered. ''Mione...'

She stopped kissing him and looked down at him, still smoothing his hair back tenderly.

'Hey,' Ron whispered, and he tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage it; it came out more as a pained grimace. That was all he said to her just then, but it seemed to be enough. Tears were pouring out of her eyes but she was smiling and clutching his hand, no doubt numbing his fingers now.

Ron turned his head, ever so slightly, to Harry. Harry noticed the room had gone quiet. Ron opened his mouth to speak, and Harry leaned in.

'Did you...get him?' Ron whispered.

Harry leaned back a bit and met Ron's gaze. He nodded. 'I got him.'

'Ginny...'

'She's in hospital, she'll be okay,' said Harry. He would have said more but suddenly Charlie was there with Bill.

The two of them clumsily bent down and moved closer to Ron.

'Bloody hell, Ron,' Charlie said, his eyes red with unshed tears. 'Your scared the shit out of us.'

'Mum's going to kill you, you know,' said Bill.

Ron couldn't speak; he again attempted a smile that became the half-grimace.

Charlie and Bill backed away just as Harry heard another ruckus from outside the room. For a moment everyone in the room tensed, prepared for another attack. Harry and Hermione moved over Ron, ready to cover him with their bodies if it meant keeping him safe, but instead of Death Eaters flooding the room, it was a whole staff of Healers.

'Coming through!' shouted Augustus Pye. 'Neville, Luna's on her way to St. Mungo's if you--'

Neville was already out the door.

The Brain room suddenly turned noisy as Healers ushered those with less serious injuries to a far corner of the room. Augustus Pye seemed to be in charge of everything; he was barking instructions to all the other Healers, who moved quickly to establish some semblance of order.

Within minutes, the initial chaos of the Healers' arrival became a well-organized machine. Students with minor injuries were treated in a trice; other Healers moved back into the main room, presumably to transport the more seriously injured to St. Mungo's. Bill and Charlie were hurried from the room, both unsuccessfully protesting they wanted to stay with Ron.

'You won't do him any good if the two of you wind up getting worse because you didn't get help!' an older Healer witch scolded, shooing Bill and Charlie away.

Augustus, meanwhile, headed straight for Harry. Snape had backed off; indeed the Potions Master seemed to have left the room. Harry wondered briefly if Snape were going to St. Mungo's himself--his limp indicated that his leg had been badly hurt--but then Augustus Pye spoke to Harry, and he forgot all about Snape.

'You okay?' he asked.

'Fine,' Harry lied, not moving from Ron's side. 'It's Ron, he needs the most help.'

Augustus and another Healer, and young witch who looked barely older than Harry, bent down beside Ron, ushering Harry and Hermione out of the way. Hermione grabbed onto Harry again; she seemed to need some form of human contact.

'Ron?' said Augustus. 'Can you hear me?'

'Yeah...' Ron mumbled. His eyes were half-closed now; he looked exhausted.

'He's drifting off,' said the Healer witch. 'He might have a concussion.'

'At the very least,' said Augustus grimly, as he studied the scar tissue of Ron's stomach wound. 'His color suggests a lot of internal bleeding.'

'That's what Neville said,' said Harry, not wanting to think about Ron bleeding internally. 'Ron...got really hurt tonight.'

'What happened to him?' Augustus asked. 'What's this wound here? Is it new?'

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other; Harry wasn't sure what had happened to Ron after he and Neville had fled the Death Chamber; Hermione clearly didn't know all the details of what had transpired in the Death Chamber. Neither of them were keen to talk about all the injuries Ron had sustained, but each filled Augustus in on what they knew. When Hermione finished, describing how the wall had basically fallen on top of Ron, Augustus paled slightly.

'How on earth did he...survive all of it?' he asked.

'We had...some phoenix tears,' Harry explained haltingly, 'and Professor Snape...he had a bunch of potions on him. He gave them all to Ron. Neville had healed him up before.'

'I did, too, but...I don't think I did a very good job of it,' said Hermione. 'I was panicking, I didn't have my own wand...'

'It's okay,' said Augustus. 'What all of you did have saved his life. He should have...well, he's in a very bad way, that much is obvious. But he's stable enough, I think, that we can get him to hospital. He could be in for a long haul.'

'Augustus...' the Healer witch whispered.

Ron was drifting off again.

'Should I give him something to keep him awake?'

'Better not,' said Augustus. 'He's had taken so many potions already I'm not sure what good it would, do. Listen, Sarah, can you get back to the hospital and prepare a room for him? And fetch Healer Smethwyck--he's taken care of lots of Weasleys.'

'Will do,' said Sarah, and she got up quickly and left the room as Augustus bent down over Ron, who was, indeed, starting to fall asleep.

'Ron,' Augustus said again, 'you need to stay awake for me, okay? Just for a few minutes. I need to check you for a concussion.'

'Uh-huh...' Ron muttered, his eyes fluttering again. 'Ow...'

Augustus began to gently prod Ron's head. Hermione winced in sympathy as the Healer's fingers came away bloody, from a wound over Ron's left ear. The Healer then took his wand and began running it over and around Ron's head; the wand buzzed a strange grey color.

'Well, there's one miracle,' said Augustus dryly. 'He's not concussed.'

'S'good,' Ron mumbled.

Augustus continued his quiet investigation, moving his fingers along Ron's many wounds, all of which had healed over due to Fawkes and to Snape's potions, but the Healer's face creased into a frown as he repeated the process using his wand. Again, the wand vibrated, this time glowing red as it passed over each injury on Ron's body.

'He needs St. Mungo's, right now,' said Augustus. 'The phoenix tears took care of the worst of the damage, and the potions are helping at the moment, but...the internal damage is extensive. I'll need to render him unconscious for the journey.'

Augustus extracted a very frightening looking syringe with a long needle on the end from his robes. Harry grimaced and Hermione gave a little start.

'Just a bit of sedative,' Augustus assured. 'It'll keep him stable for the trip to hospital.' He looked down at Ron, who was staring at the syringe with what normally would have been plate-sized eyes but were now half-closed, owing to his injuries and extreme fatigue.

'Wassat?' he muttered.

'Sedative,' Augustus repeated. He gently lifted Ron's arm and turned it out so that the inside of Ron's elbow faced the ceiling.

'W-wait...' Ron protested.

'You'll just feel a pinch,' Augustus assured him, and he stuck Ron in arm with the needle.

'Ow...that hurtsh...' Ron's protest slurred away, and within two seconds, he was asleep.

'He'll...he'll be all right, won't he?' Hermione asked fretfully. She was squeezing Harry's hand again.

Augustus looked up. 'We'll do everything we can for him.'

_That's not what Hermione asked, _Harry thought, but Hermione simply nodded and bent down, taking Ron's hand in hers.

At that moment, two more Healers appeared.

'Is he ready to be moved?' one of them asked, a burly middle-aged wizard with thick, graying hair and a walrus mustache.

'Yeah, he's ready to go,' said Augustus. He muttered something else, as if trying not to let Harry and Hermione hear. Harry caught the words 'emergency unit', but Hermione, who was again stroking Ron's hair, didn't seem to have heard. It was just as well; Hermione was so tense Harry feared that any hint of bad news might send her into a panic.

The two Healers gently urged Hermione aside. She stood up and backed away, rubbing at her jaw, which had begun to swell again.

_'Mobilicorpus,'_ the burly wizard Healer muttered, and Ron was levitated gently upward in a reclining position; the other Healer, a witch of roughly the same age as her partner, arranged Ron's arms across his chest.

'T-take care of him...' Hermione begged. She began to worry her hands, and Harry went to her and put an arm around her. Together, they watched the two Healers float Ron out of the room.

'He'll be all right,' Hermione said, more to herself than anything else. Harry could only watch Ron be levitated away, his torn, blood-stained robes hanging limply on his beaten, damaged body.

'Miss,' said another voice. Harry and Hermione moved their gaze from Ron's retreating form to find another Healer standing before them. She was about thirty or so, and she gazed at Hermione with warm concern.

'I'll be wantin' to take a look at that jaw,' said the witch, in a gentle Welsh lilt. 'And your leg. Could ye come with me?'

_Her leg?_

Harry looked down, and only then noticed that Hermione's leg was encased in burned denim.

_Why didn't I see that before?_

_Good lord. What did Nott do to her?_

'O-okay,' said Hermione hesitantly. Harry stared at her for a moment, taking in the fact that Hermione had covered her pain completely as they focused on Ron. The witch moved to Hermione's side and helped her to a nearby chair; Hermione walked with a pronounced limp. Harry wondered if everyone would leave the Ministry with a leg injury, and then he remembered his own leg, and suddenly the pain came flaring back.

In that moment, Harry realized that he, too, hadn't felt any pain in his own body, so focused had he been on saving Ron. But now that Ron was on his way to hospital, now that Hermione was being treated, now that the Healers were here and repairing the damage of those who were alive, and taking away those who were dead...

All those dead people...

Harry felt a wave of dizziness, followed by a rush of nausea. He staggered and fought the sudden urge to vomit.

'Whoa,' said Augustus, who caught Harry from falling. 'Harry?'

'I'm okay,' Harry lied, but suddenly the room was spinning. If his leg possessed a voice, it would be screaming in pain. The voices in the room grew louder. Harry could smell blood and burned flesh. He looked over at Hermione, who sat with her leg outstretched; the denim of her jeans had been cut away to reveal an ugly span of third degree burns on her thigh, and she cried softly as the Healer tended to her wound.

Hermione looked over and met his eyes.

'Harry?' she called.

Her features blurred. Harry's bad leg buckled at the knee. The room was spinning out of control...

'Harry!'

The last thing Harry heard was Hermione's startled yell before he passed out in Augustus Pye's arms.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Harry was in a strange room. He'd never seen it in his life, he was sure of it. A bedroom, it appeared to be, but it was as stark and cold a room as his closet under the stairs at Number __Four Privet Drive_

_He frowned for a moment, wondering why he was hear, when he heard...humming._

_He turned to the source of the humming and found it, or rather, her. A woman, a very pretty woman, with alabaster skin and dark brown eyes, sat at a small, flimsy dressing table, brushing her long red hair. She might have even been beautiful, were it not for the sadness of her eyes. She set down her hairbrush and placed a hand on her belly, which, Harry noticed, was slightly swollen. When she looked up again, her eyes swam with unshed tears, and she began to sing._

_'Era bella com'angiol __del__ cielo,  
__'Innocente degl'anni sul fiore,  
__'Ed il palpito primo d'amore  
__'Un crudele nel cor le destò.  
__'Inesperta, fidente ne'giuri,  
__'Sè commise all'amante sleale;  
__'Fu sedotta!__ e l'anello nuziale,  
__'Poveretta, ma indarno invocò.'_

_Harry had no idea what it meant; he wasn't even sure what language she was singing in. Only that it was the saddest song he'd ever heard. The woman placed her hand on her belly again, and sang a little more._

_'All'infamia dannata, allo scherno,  
__'Nove lune gemèla tradita;  
__'Poi consunta dal duolo la vita,  
__'Pregò venia al crudele e spirò...'_

_She broke off, her voice failing her as tears began to fall on her face._

_'Please...'_

_Harry blinked, and suddenly he was back in the room of blood sacrifices, and Tom Riddle was standing in front of him, seventeen and holding the portrait of the red-haired woman in front of his chest. He opened his mouth, and he began to sing, but it was in his mother's voice._

_'Ed il frutto __del__ vil tradimento  
__'Nel sepolcro posogli d'appresso;  
__'Là non sorse una croce, un cipresso,  
__'Non un sasso il suo nome portò,  
__'Non un sasso, una croce il suo nome portò..._

Finish it, Harry.

_Harry blinked, and Voldemort was on the ground, his arms splayed out._

_'Please...'_

'No!'

Harry sat up with a start. His scar tingled and his right hand flew to it instinctively.

_No, it can't tingle! It's not supposed to...Voldemort's dead! Why is my scar still tingling?_

Harry pressed at his scar and it was only after a few seconds that he realized he was tingling everywhere, with fear and horror at what he'd just dreamed. He let out a breath of relief. It wasn't just his scar, it was everything, he'd just been dreaming of...Voldemort...and Riddle, and Riddle's mother.

Harry blinked and shook his head, trying to get his bearings. He looked about the room and realized quite suddenly that he was in a hospital, but it wasn't the Hogwarts hospital wing. This room was clearly in St. Mungo's hospital, and he was alone. Faint light was streaming into the room. It was just before dawn.

Harry sat back for a moment, remembering himself. He'd been in a battle. He'd defeated Lord Voldemort. He'd hurt his leg. He'd witnessed Ron nearly die, and Ginny...

_Ron! Ginny!_

Harry sat up sharply. His head swam slightly, and he guessed it had to do with whatever potions he'd been given to heal his leg, which didn't hurt him now, but which felt very, very stiff.

And yet the stiffness in his leg didn't matter to him; he was suddenly consumed with the need to find out about Ron and Ginny, and angry, too, that nobody had bothered to wake him up to tell him that Ron and Ginny were both doing fine.

Because they were. He knew they had to be doing fine.

Harry threw off the covers of the bed and swung his legs around. His bare feet landed on very cold tile. He realized with some amusement that he was alone in this room. He'd just defeated the darkest wizard in decades; he would have expected the reporters to be camped outside his room, and security to be surrounding him, but as he came to his senses, he heard the hustle and bustle outside his room: the hospital was very, very busy.

Harry pursed his lips and tried not to think about the implications of that. He knew that the Ministry wouldn't have been the only scene of a battle last night. Perhaps Voldemort had sent out more dark creatures, more Death Eaters--how many could there be?--to murder and maim more innocent people.

Harry walked stiffly to the closet and flung it open, seeking something to wear aside from his pyjamas, but all he found in the closet was a set of old, used, hospital-issue robes and a pair of slippers. He then remembered Ginny's wand, and was relieved to find it tucked into the pocket of the robes. It would have to do for now; he wasn't about to waste time worrying about his wardrobe when he needed to find out about Ron and Ginny's conditions.

He put on the slippers and robes and opened the door to his room. At once, his ears were assaulted with noise. It was chaos in the corridor: Healers were running to and fro, bringing in injured people on stretchers and in wheel chairs. A medi-witch and two Healers hurried past him, pushing a huffing, puffing, very pregnant woman in a wheelchair, as her husband ran frantically after them.

'That's it, dear! Just remember the breathing exercises!'

Harry moved carefully out of the way of the onslaught of people; it was slow work, just getting out of the corridor and trying to find his way to the lobby, so that he could find Ron's and Ginny's rooms, but it was just as well. Harry still felt a bit light-headed--his stomach growled and he realized suddenly that he hadn't eaten for hours--and watching all the people rush around him was making him just a bit dizzy. He had to lean against the wall a few times and catch his breath.

A medi-wizard walked by, and Harry cleared his throat.

'Excuse me, sir, could you--'

'Can't talk now!' the wizard barked, going right past him, but then he stopped and turned around. 'What are you doing out of bed? Go back to your room!'

Harry half-expected the wizard to force him back to his bedroom, but the wizard turned sharply on his heel and hurried away.

Harry met with the same response a few more times, and he was suddenly struck by the irony that nobody seemed to know he was there. How often he would have liked to blend into a crowd, to not be noticed as the Boy Who Lived, but now, when he needed to get someone, anyone's attention...

Harry groaned and forced himself to keep walking. The only help for it was the receptionist at the front desk. He'd do whatever he had to do to find out about Ron and Ginny. He'd even play his fame card if he had to...

'Harry, what are you doing?'

Harry whirled about to see Augustus Pye approaching him, looking supremely exhausted and even more put out.

'Er..' Harry stammered.

'Are you mad? Go back to your room and get some rest!' Augustus said sternly.

'Please, Augustus, I just want to know what's going on with Ron, and Hermione--'

'We're still working on Ron,' said Augustus impatiently, wiping his hands on his smock. 'I'm just on my way to the lab to get more Blood Replenishing Draught.'

'He's...he's still bleeding internally?' said Harry, horrified.

'Not anymore,' said Augustus. 'Look...he threw a clot and we had to...we had to fix an artery, and he lost a lot of blood.'

Harry blanched. He had no idea what 'throwing a clot' meant, but he knew it wasn't anything good.

'Harry, he's going to make it,' said Augustus wearily. 'I don't know how the hell he's pulled along this far, but he has, and unless something major goes wrong in the next several hours--which I don't foresee happening--he's going to pull through. And if you want to know about Miss Granger, she's fine, she's all healed up and from what I understand, she went back to the school to get some rest. She was healthy enough to leave and we need all the beds we can get.

'Speaking of which, I want you to go back to bed right now. You won't do Ron or Hermione any good if you're half-dead on your own feet.'

'But I want to know about Ginny, too!' Harry protested.

'Ginny?' said Augustus, looking confused. 'Ginny Weasley? What about her?'

Harry matched Augustus's confused expression. 'What d'ye mean, what about her? She's here in the hospital somewhere. Draco Malfoy brought her in ages ago.'

Augustus frowned. 'I know Malfoy was here at some point. I think he had some broken ribs. He might still be around, but you'd have to ask the receptionist. But...I don't recall seeing Ginny.'

Harry blanched.

'Look, Harry, if Ginny isn't here she's probably back at the school,' Augustus assured him. 'We can't spare any beds here unless people are seriously injured--'

'Augustus, we need you!' came an agitated shout.

'Sorry, Harry, I've really got to run,' said Augustus, and he hurried off, but Harry had barely heard him. His thoughts were focused only on Ginny, and the fact that Augustus hadn't seen her.

He's not the only Healer around, and it's chaos right now. Maybe she came through earlier. I'll have to check with the receptionist.

Harry hurried up to the receptionist's desk, pushing past people, all of whom were protesting.

'Excuse me, but there is a queue!'

'See here, wait your turn!'

Harry grunted and lifted his fringe up, revealing his scar, and as he expected, everyone shut up and let him through.

The receptionist was in mid-conversation with a very harried looking witch who was holding a toddler that kept burping up foul smelling bubbles when Harry reached the desk.

'What on earth--' the receptionist began, and Harry again revealed his scar.

'Oh, my!' the receptionist gasped, and the harried mother moved out of the way just as her son belched another rancid smelling bubble, that popped just over Harry's head. He ignored it.

'Where's Ginny Weasley?' he barked at the receptionist. 'Which room?'

'Er...Ginny Weasley?' the receptionist repeated, and she quickly flipped through her ledger. 'Ginny Weasley...she's...well...I don't see any listing for a Ginny Weasley.'

Harry felt his stomach drop; his throat dried up in an instant.

'Are you sure?' he rasped.

The witch behind the desk bit her lip nervously and flipped through the ledger again, a bit more slowly. Harry clenched his fists.

She looked up and shook her head. 'N-no, Mr. Potter. I'm...I'm afraid she's not in the book. She...she never checked in.'

'But Draco Malfoy brought her in,' Harry insisted. 'He's here, Healer Pye said he's here.'

The witch flipped through her book again, and then pointed at an entry.

'Yes,' she said. 'Mr. Malfoy was admitted at...let's see...just past midnight. But...'

More flipping pages.

'No Ginny Weasley.'

Harry could have sworn his heart stopped in that moment. He thought back to everything that had happened that night. Ginny had contacted him Empathically. He'd felt it when he was fighting Voldemort. But he'd lost contact with her after that. He'd...no...he hadn't tried to contact her. Because he was tired, and worried about Ron...and then he'd passed out and wound up here...hours ago...

_Malfoy._

_Draco was supposed to have brought her here. Why was he here, and Ginny not here?_

_Relax, Potter, maybe she's back at the castle._

At once, Harry reached out to Ginny with his mind.

_Ginny! Ginny, can you hear me?_

'Mr. Potter?'

Harry ignored the witch behind the desk, and moved away from her. He tried again.

_Ginny! Answer me..._

_Harry...Harry...help me..._

Harry felt his heart squeeze in his chest; it was pain but it wasn't his. It was Ginny's.

Ginny was hurt, somewhere. Draco hadn't brought her back to the hospital after all.

Draco, who'd been obsessing after Ginny all year. Who'd wanted Ginny so badly he even imagined he was shagging her while he was with Pansy. Who'd done all he could to manipulate Ginny into helping him.

Harry felt the anger bubbling up inside him like hot acid. He whirled on the witch at the reception desk.

'What room is Malfoy in?' he demanded.

'Er...well...technically I'm not supposed to--'

'WHAT ROOM IS HE IN?' Harry bellowed, earning startled cries from the crowd. The burping toddler began to cry.

'R-room 312,' the receptionist stammered. 'It's on the--'

But Harry was already running. A surge of adrenaline and fury fueled him as he shoved past everyone in his way, dodging wheelchairs and crutches and irritable patients and anxious Healers, Harry went for the main staircase and raced upwards, not feeling the barest hint of pain in his bad leg.

All he could think about was Draco Malfoy, here in a hospital room, and Ginny...somewhere else, in pain, probably tied up...Draco would be imagining himself finding her, taking her, raping her...

304, 305...

'Hey, no running in the corridors!' a caretaker called, as Harry leapt over the man's mop and bucket.

310, 311...312...

_'Alohomora!'_ Harry roared, performing the Unlocking Charm without a wand; his fury was such that the door was blown off its hinges.

'Oi! What d'you think you're doing?' the caretaker yelled, but then Harry whipped around and raised his hand at the caretaker, daring him to make so much as a move.

The caretaker shrank back; he had a wand tucked in his belt, but rather than pulling it out, he backed away and started towards the stairs, no doubt to alert security.

Harry ignored him and charged into Draco's room.

_I'll kill him...I'll beat the truth out of him and then I'll..._

Malfoy was in the corner of the room, pulling on his robes, his face ashen.

'Malfoy...' Harry growled, and he stormed towards the blond boy.

'Harry, don't!' Draco snapped, and he raised his wand with a shaking hand.

Harry swallowed. Draco looked weak and tired, as though he'd just woken up a few minutes ago, but he still had a wand, and Harry--wandless magic abilities or not--couldn't compete with a wand. He could try and go for Ginny's wand, which was tucked in the pocket of the robes he wore, but he might not be fast enough. And yet the fury in Harry's soul wouldn't rest.

'Where is she?' he yelled. 'What have you done with Ginny?'

'Nothing!' Draco yelled back, and his voice was pleading. 'I swear, Potter, I was on my way to bring her here and we were attacked.'

'You lie!' Harry roared, and he made to charge, but Draco raised his wand and leveled it with Harry's throat.

'I'll hurt you!' Draco hissed, but Harry saw that his hand was shaking.

Harry fought to catch his breath, fought for calm. Murdering Draco might satisfy him in the short term, but it would do nothing to help him find Ginny.

'What happened?' Harry asked instead.

'I told you, we were attacked,' said Draco quickly. His whole body trembled, and his eyes stayed on Harry's. 'I swear, Potter. I swear on my mother's grave, okay? We were in the tunnel on our way here and we got jumped. I got...I got my leg broken and Ginny...oh god...Potter...'

_Harry...help me..._

Harry winced. 'Ginny got taken.'

'Yeah,' said Draco, and he looked genuinely stricken, and it was then that Harry knew Draco wasn't lying.

Harry felt his whole body shake with rage, and suddenly it was too much. This wasn't happening. Ginny hadn't been kidnapped _again_. Voldemort had taken her because she was Empathic, because she was useful to him. What use could Ginny be to anyone now, now that Voldemort was dead, now that his Death Eaters had, Harry knew in his heart, been routed?

With a howl Harry threw his fist into the wall, punching a hole into it; Draco recoiled. Harry felt his knuckles spit open and crack, but the pain was good. It forced him to focus.

'Why?' Harry muttered. 'Why was she taken?'

Draco gave a choked noise, and Harry looked up.

'You know why?' he said, moving towards Draco, who didn't raise his wand this time. Instead he just looked at Harry miserably.

'She took her because of me,' he said, his voice heavy.

'She?' said Harry. 'Who?' He cast about for the names of female Death Eaters, and only one came to mind. 'Helene Rosier?'

'No,' said Draco, and his eyes became red-rimmed. 'Not Rosier.' He paused and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Something crossed his face, a mixture of horror and disbelief, and above all, awful realization.

'Who?' Harry persisted, grabbing Draco's shoulders and shaking him.

_Harry...can you hear me? Help me..._

'Malfoy, tell me!' Harry yelled. 'Who took Ginny?'

Draco let out an anguished breath. 'Pansy. Pansy Parkinson.'

**A/N: Thanks, as ever, to lina, for beta-reading!**

**About the cliffie: I promise I won't leave you hanging for very long--I finally have a bit more time to write, and as this story is headed towards the end, material is coming to me a lot faster--I just needed to get over the "hump" of writing Chapter 50. In the meantime, I'll leave everyone to speculate on Pansy, but everything about her will be revealed in the next chapter.**

**On Malfoy's mother: I decided to make her Italian and give her the surname of Marvolo. I couldn't think of any logical reason as to why Tom Riddle would have Marvolo as his middle name, unless it was his mother's maiden name, and "Marvolo" sounds Italian to me (my Italian readers might disagree). Riddle's mum's first name, Adriana? Shamelessly stolen from a character on the TV series _The Sopranos_. Adriana Marvolo, in my universe, comes from the Veneto region of Italy, and has Irish/Celtic ancestry, which explains her red hair and paler complexion.**

**About the song Adriana sings: This is a real Italian song, not something I made up. It's called _La Seduzione_--The Seduction. The lyrics are an Italian poem by Luigi Balestra, and the music is written by Giuseppe Verdi, one of ****Italy****'s most celebrated operatic composers. I've actually sung this song myself in concerts. The translation is below, but bear in mind this is not a literal, word-for-word translation, which wouldn't make much sense to English-speaking readers. I've instead chosen a translation that is as close to the Italian as it could be. The song is a very fitting piece for a woman in Adriana's situation, I think; in her time, an unwed pregnant woman was cast out of society and forced to live in a confinement situation in a sort of group home for unwed mothers. Typically, when these women had their children, the babies were taken from them as part of their "punishment" for being pregnant out of wedlock.**

**I can't honestly say if the wizarding world would have held to such traditions, but the "Muggle" world certainly did, and I think such a situation for Adriana, although she is a witch, adds a layer of depth to her tragedy, and Tom's. **

**_She was beautiful as an angel from heaven,_**

**_Innocent as a flower,_**

**_And at the first heartbeat of love_**

**_A cruel lover stirred in her heart._**

**_Innocent, faithful, she swore love._**

**_She gave herself up to a faithless lover;_**

**_She was seduced!_**

**_And for a marriage ring,_**

**_poor_****_ thing, she begged in vain._**

**_From torment, shame, from mocking,_**

**_Nine months the dishonored girl wept;_**

**_Then her grief consumed her life._**

**_She begged forgiveness for her cruel lover, _**

**_and_****_ died._**

**Additional words, sung by Tom in Adriana's voice:**

**_And the fruit of the vile betrayal _**

**_lies_****_ nearby her in the tomb._**

**_There stands no cross, nor cypress tree_**

**_No headstone or cross bears her name._**

**Obviously, the last four lines of the song don't technically apply to Adriana's situation; Tom doesn't die, and he places flowers on her grave. But those words illustrate the depths of Adriana's despair well, I think. **


	52. Chapter Fifty Two: Pansy Parkinson

_Chapter Fifty-Two: Pansy Parkinson_

Harry gaped at Malfoy in disbelief.

'Bullshit,' he said. 'Pansy's dead. Whoever took Ginny was just...just disguised as Pansy, or took Polyjuice--'

'It was Pansy,' Draco insisted. 'It was her.'

'But she's dead!' Harry protested.

'Obviously she's not if she hexed the crap out me and made off with Ginny!' Draco snapped. 'Don't you get it, Potter? She faked her death!'

'Why would she do that?' Harry asked.

'Well, Potter, I don't know,' said Draco, his voice now dripping with the familiar sarcasm. 'I wasn't conscious long enough to engage her in any protracted conversation and in any case, it was kind of a shock seeing a girl I thought was dead suddenly pointing a wand in my face!'

'She didn't say anything to you?' said Harry, throwing up his hands in frustration, still not ready to believe that the person who'd attacked Draco and Ginny was really Pansy Parkinson.

'No,' said Draco.

'You're sure it was Pansy?' said Harry.

'I know her better than anyone, Potter,' Draco spat. 'I'm telling you, it was her. She...she's getting revenge on me for not...for...'

'For being in love with Ginny?'

Draco's grey eyes flashed. 'A lot of good that's done me,' he snarled, and it was then that Harry noticed he wasn't wearing hospital robes, but his own clothing, which he'd quickly repaired with magic.

'Hang on,' said Harry. 'You were about to go after Pansy when I came in, weren't you?'

Draco raised his chin, which gave Harry his answer.

'You know where Pansy went?'

'I have a good idea, yeah,' said Draco.

'Good, because I'm coming with you,' said Harry, and he immediately removed Ginny's wand from his robe pocket, conjured himself some Muggle street clothes, and transfigured his slippers into trainers.

'I'd better leave a note,' said Harry. 'For...Lupin. Yeah, I'll let Lupin know. He has to tell the Weasleys...they might already know...'

Draco looked panicky. 'Tell Lupin he can't send Aurors!' he urged. 'If Aurors come, Pansy'll hurt Ginny!'

'Okay, okay,' said Harry.

He looked about the room for parchment and quill, and found he had to conjure them both himself. He scratched out a quick note.

'Where are we going?' he asked Draco.

'My house,' said Draco. 'Malfoy Manor.'

Harry raised his eyebrows for a moment, but then added it to the note. He folded the parchment, sealed it, and added the words FOR REMUS LUPIN. He left it prominently displayed on Malfoy's bed.

At that moment, Harry heard voices in the corridor.

'...just down here, sir, he just blew the door clean off its hinges, he did!'

'Shit,' Harry whispered. 'Can you Apparate?'

'Yeah,' said Draco, although he looked slightly nervous as he said this. 'Now?'

'Yes, now,' said Harry impatiently. 'I don't fancy trying to explain this to anyone, I'd rather just find Ginny and get back.'

'Right,' said Draco. 'Now, then. My house, in Wiltshire.'

'Ah, good,' said Harry sarcastically. 'A place I've never seen. Could you at least give me a house number and street name?'

Draco scowled at him. 'Malfoy Manor doesn't have a _street address_,' he said haughtily, with an expression on his face like he'd just smelled stinksap.

'Oh, pardon me,' Harry retorted. 'How common of me to think your house has a street address. How the hell am I supposed to know where I'm Apparating to, then?'

'Oh, for god's sake, Potter, just grab my hand, then!' Draco hissed. 'Think of Malfoy Manor and I'll do the rest.'

Harry glowered at Draco and took the other boy's left hand in his left hand, so that they were facing each other.

'Oi! What do you two think you're doing?' said a gruff voice.

'Now!' Draco yelled.

Harry closed his eyes and thought only of Malfoy Manor.

_Malfoy Manor...Malfoy Manor..._

_CRACK!_

Harry's feet hit soft ground, and he stumbled, letting go of Draco's hand. The other boy fell to his knees with a grunt and then got up painfully.

Harry blinked and let his eyes get adjusted to the bright morning sunlight. They were outside in a massive garden that clearly had gone wild; the grass was long and hadn't been mowed for at least a year; the spring tulips and crocuses had long since wilted and were surrounded by weeds and out-of-control wildflowers. Stone benches were covered in poison ivy, and there were garden gnomes everywhere.

'Get away,' Draco growled, kicking at a gnome who'd wandered over a bit too close. The gnome squeaked in protest and ran off, and Harry looked up to find himself staring at an enormous house.

It was made of brick, and was very, very old, with a slate roof and huge windows that overlooked the grounds. It was perhaps as grand a house as Harry had ever seen, and for a moment, he was able to imagine what it must have looked like only a few years ago, when Draco and his parents lived in it. The brickwork would have been immaculate, the windows sparkling, the grounds pristine. Now the house was overgrown with ivy; the bricks and mortar were cracking; a few windows were broken, and those that were intact were filthy. With a shudder, Harry realized that the house reminded him quite keenly of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place; this struck him as odd, as Draco Malfoy's family home couldn't have been more different, or the setting more distinct. But then Harry realized the similarity between both houses was not in how they looked, but the aura of dark magic, of evil, that seemed to permeate them. Even without entering the house, Harry knew Malfoy Manor would not be a comforting place.

He looked over at Draco, who was staring at his house with a mixture of sadness and longing.

Harry was just about to drag Draco's attention from the house when he heard Ginny in his mind.

_Harry..._

_Ginny? Where are you? I'm here!_

_You're so close..._

_Ginny...tell me where you are...tell me!_

_I...Harry...help...I can't..._

_No! Stay with me Ginny!_

But she was gone. Harry felt a rush of fear.

'She's here,' he whispered. 'Ginny.'

Draco snapped his attention away from his house and looked at Harry.

'You...you're sure?'

'I felt her,' said Harry.

Draco looked away. 'Of course you did,' he said in a flat voice.

'Draco, I can't...I can't seem to figure out where she is,' said Harry. 'She's around here somewhere, but...where would Pansy have taken her? Inside?'

'No,' said Draco, and his eyes became cold. 'Not in the house. If I know Pansy...'

He started off to the right, down the wide, sloping back lawn. Harry found himself almost jogging to keep up with Draco, who had suddenly quickened his pace.

'Where are we going?' Harry asked, Ginny's wand clutched tightly in his hand.

'There,' said Draco shortly, pointing to a building that looked remarkably like...

'Stables?' said Harry, gaping at the building as they approached it. 'You have stables?' There looked to be apartments above the stables, but Harry was so flabbergasted that the Malfoys had apparently kept horses that he barely noticed those.

'Of course we have stables,' said Draco impatiently, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, having stables in one's back yard. As if everyone should have stables.

Harry rolled his eyes and did a rude hand gesture behind Draco's back, but Draco didn't notice. On further reflection, as they moved towards the stables, Harry supposed that a family as old-fashioned and rich as the Malfoys ought to be keeping horses. It was probably as normal to them as having house elves for servants.

They were halfway to the stables, when Harry felt a sharp pain in his muscles and a rush of emotion.

'What?' said Draco.

'Ginny,' said Harry. 'She's close by, but...I can't get a fix.'

'Get down!' Draco hissed, yanking Harry suddenly down behind a large boulder.

'What's going on?' Harry whispered.

'Pansy,' said Draco, his eyes narrowing. 'She's in the servants' quarters.'

Unlike his initial reaction to the stables, Harry wasn't at all surprised that the Malfoy family had servants' quarters.

_How fitting they should be on top of where the horses are kept._

'You're sure it's her?' said Harry, keeping his voice soft. 'Did she see us?'

'Yes, it's her, and no, she didn't see us,' said Draco.

'Why would she go to the servants' quarters?' Harry asked.

'She's making a point,' said Draco darkly. 'We used to shag in the servants' quarters at holidays.'

'Lovely,' said Harry.

'She's gone,' said Draco, his eyes fixed on the windows above the stables. 'Let's go now.'

He grabbed Harry by the wrist and yanked him up before taking off at a mad dash for the stables. Harry groaned inwardly, but followed, thinking the whole time this was hardly the best way to go about things.

Draco reached the door to the stables and opened it with a wave of his wand; Harry hurried up to join him but nearly collided with him when Draco suddenly froze in place, his wand at his side.

Harry followed Draco's gaze, and felt his heart skip a beat.

There were no horses in the stalls; indeed, the stalls had been empty for a very long time.

There was only Pansy Parkinson, who stood in front of them, framed in sunlight, wearing Death Eater robes. Harry knew, in that instant, that it was indeed the real Pansy standing before him. No one could ever imitate that haughty grace with which she held herself; even though Harry was sure she'd been in the thick of the battle at the Department of Mysteries, she'd clearly taken the care to clean herself up. Her brown hair was shiny and neatly brushed into smooth waves; her blue eyes sparkled; her robes looked and smelled to be the recipient of numerous Cleaning Charms. Under the robes she wore a black dress and Mary Janes, without stockings. She might have been pretty, were it not for the mad look in her eyes, or for the fact that kneeling on the ground in front of her, her face a network of cuts and bruises, was Ginny.

Harry felt a rush of agony and willed her to look up at him. She did, and tears rolled down her face.

_I'm here, Ginny. I'm getting you out of here...just hold on..._

Ginny nodded slightly.

'You came,' said Pansy, in a breathy, breathless sort of voice. Her eyes were fixed on Draco; she had her wand fixed on the back of Ginny's neck.

'Yeah,' said Draco.

'I knew you would,' said Pansy, and her eyes filled with tears. 'Had to rescue your little whore.' She pressed the tip of her wand into the back of Ginny's neck.

Harry bit back the urge to hex Pansy into a million pieces.

'Lower your wands,' said Pansy.

'Pansy,' Draco said slowly, fighting to keep his voice even, 'why don't you let Ginny go? You don't have to hurt her.'

'Shut up!' she screamed. 'I knew it! I knew you wouldn't come here for me, I knew all you'd think about was her!' Her hand shook and she pressed her wand further against Ginny's neck; Ginny winced and leaned forward slightly, but Pansy grabbed a handful of Ginny's hair and pulled her upright to her knees. She then leveled her wand at Ginny's throat.

'How shall I kill her, hmm?' Pansy whispered. 'Nice and slow?'

Harry's body was tingling with sympathetic pain for Ginny, and he couldn't stop himself.

'Pansy, please,' he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. 'Ginny...she's with me, okay? Draco knows it. You don't have to hurt Ginny.'

Pansy laughed derisively, but Draco took up the theme.

'Potter's right, Pansy,' he said. 'Ginny doesn't want me. She wants Potter. She always has.'

'That doesn't matter!' Pansy screamed, pulling Ginny's hair again. 'It doesn't matter who she wants, Draco, does it? Because _you_ want _her_. You've always wanted her...I've never been anything but a...a plaything to you!'

'That's not true!' Draco protested, holding out his left hand, keeping his wand hand down. 'Pansy, I don't want Ginny, okay? I don't. I...I did at one time but I don't anymore!'

'You lie!' Pansy shrieked.

'I'm not lying!' said Draco. 'Pansy...listen to me. I don't want Ginny. I swear.'

Pansy sniffed and swallowed, and then smiled coldly. 'Then you won't care if I kill her.' She lifted her wand and opened her mouth.

'NO!' Harry cried. 'Pansy, don't!'

'Pansy, listen!' Draco urged. 'The Ministry knows Ginny's missing, okay? They've got Aurors looking for her. If you kill her...they'll catch you and take you away. They'll take you away from me. Forever.'

Pansy's bottom lip quivered and her wand hand wavered. Harry had no idea if what Draco was saying was true, but he guessed it had to be; the security people at St. Mungo's would have found his note by now, and delivered it to Lupin. Even if Lupin didn't run to Tonks and bring a squad of Aurors, Harry knew it wouldn't be long before they were found. Draco _had_ to get through to Pansy before anyone else showed up, and all hell broke loose.

'Why couldn't you love me, Draco?' Pansy whispered, and she started to cry. 'That's all I wanted from you.'

'I know, Pansy,' said Draco, and in his voice Harry heard regret mixed with something akin to disgust. Harry couldn't help but tear his eyes from Ginny and watch the scene unfolding in front of him, to bear witness to the destructive force that was Pansy and Draco's relationship.

'I would have done anything for you,' she went on, releasing her hold on Ginny's hair. Ginny collapsed forward again onto her hands; she was breathing heavily and struggling to stay conscious. Harry didn't move.

'Even join them?' said Draco, his voice breaking slightly. 'Join the ranks of my father, who tried to kill me?'

'No!' said Pansy. 'He didn't mean it, Draco!'

'Pansy, how could you do this to me?' Draco asked, his voice cracking. 'I've spent the past six months thinking you were dead. Do you know how that felt?'

'I know, I'm so sorry,' she whispered. 'I didn't mean to do it, Draco! I swear. It wasn't my idea! Your father...that day we were supposed to meet. You never came, but he did. I was scared...I was going to run...but he didn't hurt me...he just wanted to talk. About you.'

'What could my father possibly have to say about me?' Draco asked savagely.

Pansy said nothing, but in the next instant, Harry felt the ground beneath his feet shift, as Lucius Malfoy strode gracefully from behind the gate of a horse's stall, just a few meters behind Pansy. He carried a wand; he wore clean Death Eater robes. There was a black patch over his right eye, but otherwise, his appearance was pristine, like Pansy's. Harry was positive both had been in the battle last night, but neither of them showed it in their outwardly appearance.

Draco made a horrified, choked noise in his throat.

'I told Pansy,' said Lucius, his voice smooth and chilling as a sheet of ice, 'that you'd lost your way. Rejecting the Dark Lord...siding with Dumbledore...testifying in my trial...losing your head over the Weasley girl...'

Draco seemed to have lost the ability to speak; his mouth was half-open, like a fish. He gaped at Pansy, and then at his father. Harry forced himself to breathe. It was one thing to deal with Pansy; she was dangerous, but manageable. But Lucius Malfoy? It was nearly as bad as facing Voldemort himself; no Death Eater was more confident, more skilled, more ruthless than Draco's father. And Ginny was right in the middle of it all, defenseless and injured.

'Yes, Draco,' Lucius was saying, 'Pansy told me all about your...unfortunate situation with Ginny Weasley. I realized, ultimately, it was she who'd been your undoing last year. You'd been seeking her out for months, wanting her to use more of her...talents...on you. Oh, Pansy told me all about it. How you told her of the Weasley girl's Empathic powers. Pansy never did tell me under what circumstances you confided in her, but I think I can guess.'

Harry swallowed and felt his heart begin to pound as Draco's lip quivered and his eyes filled with tears.

'I trusted you,' Draco rasped, fixing his eyes on Pansy. 'You swore you wouldn't tell anyone!'

'Ginny was dangerous, Draco,' Lucius continued. 'To us, to the Dark Lord, to you. She had to be stopped. I needed to get you away from her, to make you see reason. To make you come back to your proper place.'

Draco rounded on his father. 'You made it clear what my proper place was last year!' he bit out. 'You threw me into that circle to be killed along with Potter and his mates!

Lucius paused and pursed his lips; Pansy continued to point her wand at Ginny.

'I regret having to make that decision,' Lucius said finally. 'Surely you can appreciate, Draco, the kind of hold the Dark Lord had over us.'

'Oh, I appreciated it,' said Draco savagely. 'Enough of a hold that you killed Mother.'

'Another regrettable necessity,' said Lucius coolly, with about as much feeling as if he were sending back a bottle of wine to a restaurant sommelier. Harry kept still; no matter what, it seemed, Lucius and Draco were going to have a confrontation. All Harry could do was watch, and wait for the opportune moment to make a move.

'You were nothing but his slave,' Draco spat at his father. 'All this time, I thought you were great, that you were powerful. But all you did was lick his boots.'

At this, Lucius's steel-colored eyes flashed dangerously. 'I did,' he said, his voice edged with razor sharp coldness, 'what I had to do to survive, and to protect you.'

'Killing Mother protected me?' Draco growled.

'Yes,' Lucius hissed. 'Everything I have ever done was to protect you.'

'Liar,' Draco snarled, his barely-checked anger boiling over. 'You gave me up to him! You never cared about me, you only wanted to protect yourself! What a great man you are, Father. Killing your wife and selling out your only son, and for what? So you could take a few crumbs the Dark Lord had to dish out, is that it? My god, you're pathetic! To think I used to look up to you; all I wanted was to be like you--'

'You could _never_ be like me,' Lucius snapped, and he took a few steps forward, his eyes burning. 'I am _Malfoy_, and you...you're nothing but a _disappointment_. Oh, I tried, Draco. From the time you were old enough to talk, I gave you _everything_. I taught you what it means to be a Malfoy, to have that noble blood run in your veins. I taught you what it means to be pure, and why our kind must always rule, must _always_ stand at the top, and you...all you could do was fail, _over and over again_. All you could do was embarrass me, force me to cover up for your pitiful mistakes. I gave you _every_ opportunity to succeed; I threw money at that worthless imbecile Fudge; I made sure he put Umbridge in the school, to keep Potter from spreading stories, to give you an advantage, and just when I thought you finally were getting it right, you failed _yet again_. And then you allow this _girl_'--he indicated Ginny with a savage wave of his left hand--'to worm her way into your life and turn you inside out. It was only too fitting, wasn't it, that she became Potter's girl? Once again, you lost to Potter.'

'None of that was my fault!' Draco protested. 'Potter--'

_'Is ten times the wizard you'll ever be!' _Lucius shouted.

Harry pressed his lips together as the words struck home; Draco's face crumpled, and his body began to shake with shame. Harry marveled at the sheer cruelty of Lucius Malfoy, and the cold precision with which he tore down his son's defenses.

'Look at him, Draco,' Lucius hissed, pointing his left index finger at Harry. 'This _half-blood_, this _mongrel_, has beaten the Dark Lord. Didn't you know? No, I suppose you were unconscious at the time it happened and Potter failed to mention it to you when the two of you decided to come chasing after the Weasley girl. But it's true...the Dark Lord is dead, and Potter killed him.'

Draco gawped at Harry for a moment, and then looked back at his father. In that instant, Lucius's whole demeanor changed; his expression became almost soft, and the voice he spoke in next might have been kind, were the words not coming from his lips.

'Draco,' said Lucius, 'the Dark Lord is gone. Do you know what that means?'

Draco said nothing; tears were in his eyes again and his chin trembled.

'It means,' said Lucius, 'that I am my own master. You're right, son. For too long I followed the Dark Lord. I believed in his cause, oh yes; it was the right path. Those who are pure must rule. It is the natural order of things. But the Dark Lord became weak. He became obsessed with Potter; his desire to destroy Potter got in the way of everything. He allowed his emotions to affect his judgment. I knew I would have to act. I knew I would need to plan. The Dark Lord could no longer make decisions; he came up with that ridiculous idea of attacking Granger and Weasley at Christmas, an idea I knew would ultimately fail. He was growing careless in his weakness, in his desperation to defeat Potter. Without me, he wouldn't have lasted as long as he did. _I _was the one who planned all the attacks; _I_ was the one who knew Pansy would serve our needs.'

Draco made another choked noise. 'Of course you did,' he said, his voice struggling against the sob in his throat. 'That's all she is to you: a device.'

'She is so much more than that, Draco,' said Lucius, and he put his hand on Pansy's shoulder. 'She is your betrothed, or have you forgotten? She was the one person who stood by you, even when you lost your way. She knows what it is to be loyal. She knows what it is to be pure. I knew she was good for you. Your mother and I both did; that's why we chose her for you. We didn't know whether she'd come to care for you, but she did, and so much the better. She agreed to help me not only because it was the right course, but because she loves you.'

Draco's eyes fell on Pansy, who was looking at him with an expression of pure longing and love on her face. It was the kind of look Ginny sometimes gave to Harry, but on Pansy's face, it was sad and disturbing.

'I knew Pansy was the one person who could make you see reason,' Lucius went on. 'But even Pansy wasn't a match for your obsession.' Lucius glared at Ginny, who shrank away from him. Harry longed to reach for her, to pull her away, but Pansy's wand still hovered dangerously close to her.

'Ginny Weasley,' said Lucius, 'was blinding you. Pansy knew it as well as I did. I knew you had fought with her at her house at the Christmas holiday. About the Weasley girl. She wrote to me, you see. She said she had nowhere else to turn, and then she told me that she was going to arrange to meet you in Diagon Alley. She received your written refusal; she was devastated, of course, but that's when I intervened.'

Draco was staring at his father in confusion, but Lucius's words resonated with Harry, and suddenly things about Pansy's faked death began to make sense.

'It was your idea for Pansy to fake her death,' said Harry.

'Yes,' said Lucius coolly. Draco's relationship with Pansy is, I knew he'd be genuinely upset if he thought she'd been murdered by our people.'

'You bastard,' Draco whispered, and again Harry marveled at just how cruel Lucius Malfoy could be, even to his own flesh and blood.

'Maybe I'm just being thick here,' said Harry sarcastically, 'but how does faking Pansy's death and making it look like Death Eaters raped and murdered her make Draco more inclined to come back to you?'

'It wouldn't,' said Lucius evenly. 'At the time, nothing would have convinced Draco to come to his senses. I was able to make Pansy realize that it would take time for Draco to realize his mistake; in the meantime, Pansy could assist me in another way.'

Draco still looked confused, but realization was buzzing in Harry's brain.

'Merlin,' he breathed. 'You were the spy, weren't you, Pansy?'

Pansy looked at Harry haughtily, and nodded, and something else came roaring to the forefront of Harry's mind.

'Ron,' he whispered.

_Ron had a vision about Pansy brewing something! _

'What?' said Lucius.

Harry quickly caught himself, and instead said to Pansy, 'you used Polyjuice, didn't you? You disguised yourself as Goyle. Rita Skeeter took care of making sure the wards were never up to scratch so you could sneak in and out. You were passing messages to Voldemort, and...and it was you, wasn't it, who grabbed the sword...and took Ginny...that night you took Ginny you disguised yourself as Draco...'

Harry thought harder, and remembered something else.

Ron couldn't find Pansy right away; he was having such trouble. But he saw things happening to Pansy, didn't he?

_Was it Pansy at all? _

_No. It was somebody else. Ron saw another girl being raped and murdered._

Harry swallowed, and suddenly felt sick.

'Who was the girl you killed?' he asked, glaring at Lucius Malfoy. 'Who was the girl those Death Eaters raped and murdered?'

'Some Muggle,' said Lucius casually. 'A homeless prostitute. Not one who'd be missed, and not one whose disappearance the Muggle authorities would spend any time investigating.'

Harry felt _really _sick.

'You did that to her, to an innocent girl?'

'I'd hardly call a whore innocent,' said Lucius. 'It wasn't as if she was made to do anything she hadn't done before. But if you're asking if I participated, certainly not.' He scowled, and Harry had to force himself not to throw up.

It suddenly occurred to him that if Voldemort had been evil, Lucius was even worse. Voldemort, in the end, had found some piece of humanity inside himself. Lucius had no such humanity. Draco was absolutely right about his father. Lucius cared nothing for anyone but himself. Other people were mere devices to him. An innocent girl was brutally raped and murdered, because she served the purpose of advancing Lucius's plans. Harry wondered how Draco had managed to grow up in such a house without turning out just as twisted as his father. As it was, Draco was selfish and self-absorbed and put his own needs ahead of everyone else's, but Harry simply couldn't imagine Draco being this way, going this far, actually being _evil _like Lucius.

In that sense, Lucius was also right: Draco would never be like his father. That was cold comfort to Harry, whose mind was still racing with this newfound knowledge; Pansy had been spying on him, on his friends, on the school, all along. That she had aided and abetted in the kidnapping and murder of an innocent girl.

'Did you use Polyjuice on the girl, too?' he asked. 'To get her to look like Pansy?'

Harry realized this was perhaps why Ron had such trouble locating Pansy; he wasn't looking for Pansy at all; he was looking for another girl who was made to look like Pansy. And this, too, must be why Ron saw the girl's horrific rape and murder in such stark detail: the girl had been frightened and alone and desperate, and deep inside her, her mind had called out to someone, anyone to help her. Ron had focused on Pansy, who'd kept herself closed off, but somehow, occasionally, he'd been able to See this other girl in his mind. She had been open, as open as she could ever be, and even though she was a Muggle, there was a basic part of her psyche, her soul, that had reached out. She just hadn't known she was capable of such a thing. Indeed, what Muggle would even believe such a possibility? That such a primal connection even existed between human beings?

The thought of that girl, and her last moments, made Harry's heart hurt. He could only imagine what it would do to Ron when he learned the truth.

'Yes,' Pansy said, in answer to Harry's question. 'I'm very good at making Polyjuice Potion. Aren't I, Draco?' Her eyes suddenly glittered with malice as she stared at Draco. Draco flinched, and Harry felt alarm bells sound in his head.

'What does that mean?' he asked.

'Oh, you haven't told him,' said Pansy, almost cooing, as she continued to fix her eyes on Draco.

'You knew about this?' Harry accused, whirling on Draco. 'You knew she was really alive, you--'

'No!' Draco protested.

'He didn't know,' said Pansy, and Lucius nodded.

'Then what's this about Polyjuice--'

'I used it to make myself look like her,' Pansy spat, glaring at Ginny, whose eyes widened with horror.

Harry felt his stomach swooping, his mind reeling with this new information.

'W-what?' he managed.

'Pansy, don't,' Draco begged.

'Don't what?' she hissed. 'Tell Potter that I took Polyjuice Potion to look like _her_, so that when you fucked me you could pretend it _was_ her?'

The information struck Harry like a punch to the gut, and Ginny gave a small whimper.

_I should have known. That night...when Pansy and Draco were in that room, and he told her he thought of Ginny when they had sex...Ron told me about that vision of Pansy brewing something...why didn't I put two and two together?_

_Because you thought she was dead._

Harry turned slowly to Draco.

'You...you're sick...' he bit out.

Draco met Harry's gaze, and Harry was horrified to see that Draco looked apologetic, not defiant.

'It was the only way I could be with her!' he said, in a pleading voice.

'And you let him...you...' Harry stammered at Pansy, but his voice failed him. He couldn't speak. The very idea was so sickening, so wrong...

Ginny had begun to cry silently, and Harry felt a rush of agony that he knew wasn't only his. Even though Draco had never once come close to having Ginny in the way he most wanted, Harry knew Ginny felt violated, and suddenly, Harry was furious. He wanted to kill Draco. He wanted to kill Pansy. Most of all, he wanted to kill Lucius, for raising a son who could be capable of such a sick deception, for using Pansy and twisting her mind into believing she was actually helping Draco...

And unbidden, Harry felt a wave of pity for Draco, pity that came from Ginny, too; Draco was vile and despicable and pathetic, because in the end, Lucius was right about something else: Harry beat Draco at everything. Draco's obsession with Ginny wasn't simply because Draco was in love with Ginny; it was because Ginny was Harry's girlfriend.

_But wait, he was obsessed with her before you starting dating her._

_True, but there was also her Empathic power, which, no doubt, he'd wanted for himself. When I came into the picture, that things._

Draco was crying in earnest now, his face stretched in silent horror at all that had come to pass. Pansy was trembling with a mixture of fury and rejection. Through it all, Lucius watched dispassionately; it was his reaction that most struck Harry, and only reinforced the simple fact that Lucius cared nothing for his son, nor for the damage he'd inflicted upon him. But then Harry's eyes met Ginny's again, and he didn't care one iota for Pansy or the Malfoys. His only goal, his only purpose here, was to get Ginny out of this mess--get them both out--alive. Harry suddenly didn't care if Draco, Lucius and Pansy all killed each other.

'You see, Draco,' Pansy was saying, 'that's why I had to get her away from you. Because you wouldn't stop thinking about her! She was poisoning you away from me.'

_Ginny...stay with me...I'm going to get you out of here, I promise..._

Harry gripped Ginny's wand in his fist, and glanced at Draco, who met his gaze for a moment before looking at Pansy.

'What do want, Pansy?' he said finally. 'Tell me. I'll do it, okay?'

'Come with me,' Pansy begged, holding out her free hand, as tears started up in her eyes. 'Be with me again, just me. We can be married, Draco, we can be happy. I'll love you forever, I'll be such a good wife to you, I'll give you...lots of sons...'

Draco closed his eyes, struggling against making a face.

'Listen to her, Draco,' Lucius said, his voice taking on that same faux kindness from before. 'You are my son, and a Malfoy, but you can never fulfill your truest potential if you let the Weasley girl cloud your thinking. You know your true path; it's the one you were on before you allowed your feelings to get in the way. You know emotion is weakness, Draco. Emotion is what destroyed the Dark Lord. But we are stronger than he was. We are _Malfoys_. We can be a family again, you and I. We can rise to the top, as we were meant to, as Malfoys.'

Draco began to tremble again, and Harry saw the conflict on the other boy's face. Lucius was a better manipulator than Harry had ever seen, and it struck him suddenly that, in a way, Lucius had been the Dark Lord after all, instead of Voldemort. Lucius never allowed his emotions--if he had any real emotions at all--to interfere with his goals.

'F-Father,' Draco whispered.

'Draco, don't,' Harry urged. 'They'll kill Ginny.'

Draco looked at Ginny, then at Harry, and then at his father and Pansy. Harry could see the battle going on inside Draco's mind, could see the wheels turning.

'Draco...'

Draco bit back a sound in his throat to hear Ginny speak his name. He looked at her for a moment, and Ginny's swollen eyes met his.

He swallowed, and looked back at his father, and at Pansy.

Harry felt a sudden emotion from Ginny, but couldn't quite place it...

'Okay,' he said. 'I'll come with you...Father.'

_No!_ Harry thought desperately, but then he saw Draco's fingers tighten, almost imperceptibly, on his wand; when Draco spoke further, Harry caught on at once.

_He's stalling for time._

'I don't want...the Weasley girl,' said Draco, taking a slow step forward, keeping both hands firmly at his sides. 'I want you, Pansy. Just you. Forever.'

Harry watched Lucius and Pansy's faces; Lucius looked wary and ready to strike, but Pansy was buying it.

'Really?' she whispered.

'Really,' said Draco. 'I'm sorry, Pansy, for everything. You're right. I want to marry you, I want you to have my children, I want us to be a family.'

Pansy began to cry; she wasn't paying any attention to Ginny, but her wand was still very close to Ginny's head...

Lucius still looked on his guard as Draco advanced closer.

Draco then looked directly at his father, lifted his chin, and said, 'I want to make you proud, Father. I want to be a Malfoy again.'

It was these words, at last, that seemed to make Lucius relax, just slightly...

_Now._

_'EXPELLIARMUS!'_

Draco and Harry struck simultaneously; Draco's spell struck Lucius in the chest, hurling him backwards; Harry's caught Pansy just in her wand arm; her wand went flying out of reach.

'NO!' Pansy screamed. Harry ran towards Ginny, who tried to scramble away from Pansy.

Lucius leapt up but Draco was faster; he threw a Dark curse at his father. Lucius repelled it just in time. Draco tried again, but Lucius again repelled his son's curse.

At that very moment, half a dozen loud pops announced the arrival of...

'Aurors!' Draco shouted.

Harry was nearly to Ginny when Pansy managed to summon her wand back into her hand; Harry raised Ginny's wand to fire a curse but her fury made her quicker.

_'Impedimenta!'_

Harry moved to throw up a Shield Charm when he stumbled, and Pansy's curse caught him in the stomach like a sharp punch. He flew backwards and landed on his back, hard.

_'Expelliarmus!' _

Harry looked up to see another Disarming Charm, thrown by Nymphadora Tonks, catch Pansy, and again, she lost her wand.

Aurors, meanwhile, were closing in on Lucius Malfoy; Draco smiled viciously and raised his wand.

'This is for my mother!' he howled_. 'Avada--'_

'Draco, no!' Tonks screamed, and she knocked Draco off his feet with a Falling Jinx as another Auror--James Marchbanks--took aim at Lucius.

But before Marchbanks could strike, Lucius Malfoy Disapparated.

Draco stared up in horror at the place where his father had just been.

'No!' he roared. 'No, no, NO!' He leapt up but Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt grabbed him, trying to restrain him.

'Marchbanks, see if you can track his signature!' Tonks yelled.

Harry, meanwhile, had regained his senses and hurtled towards Ginny. Pansy gave a frustrated scream when she saw an Auror grab her wand.

_Almost there...Ginny...I'm almost there..._

Pansy dove at Ginny, yanking her up with a strength borne of her anger. Harry raised Ginny's wand to hex her, but then there was a flash of silver, and Harry felt his stomach twist to see Pansy holding a knife to Ginny's throat. Time and activity came to a screeching halt.

'Back off!' Pansy screamed. 'I'll kill her, I swear!'

A young Auror took a step forward, but Kingsley raised his right hand as his left held Draco's arm in a death grip. 'Step back, Winston.'

'Pansy, let her go,' Harry begged. He turned to Draco, beseeching him to help; for a moment it looked as if Draco couldn't get himself under control, so furious he was about his father escaping. But then Draco saw Pansy and Ginny, and he let himself go slack against Tonks and Kingsley's grips on his arms.

'Pansy,' Draco said, struggling to keep his voice calm, 'remember what I said? If you hurt Ginny...if you kill her...they'll take you away from me forever.'

'It's too late,' Pansy sobbed. 'I don't belong to you...I never have...'

'Yes, you do,' Draco said insistently.

'No...' Pansy blubbered, her knife hand wavering against Ginny's throat. Ginny was frozen in place.

'Yes, Pansy,' said Draco, his eyes darting to the other Aurors, willing them not to make any sudden movements. On this score, Harry was right there with him; he looked at Tonks, who nodded and held up her hands, releasing Draco and signaling to the other Aurors not to make a move. Yet.

'You've always belonged to me,' said Draco, moving carefully towards Pansy, both hands up. He'd pocketed his wand. 'I just...I was too stupid to appreciate you. It wasn't until I thought you were dead that I knew...God, Pansy...I've been hopeless without you...I haven't been able to sleep...you've been all I thought about...all this time...it was my fault...I'm so sorry...please, Pansy...let Ginny go. I don't care about her anymore. I love you...'

'LIAR!' Pansy screamed, and she pulled Ginny's hair. 'You really expect me to believe you now, after what just happened?'

For a moment, nobody moved. Harry felt his stomach twist tighter; Draco couldn't hope to convince Pansy of anything now, and Harry hated himself for being so clumsy, for not being quick enough. But then he felt Ginny's eyes on him, and he looked at her. She was very, very still, and her eyes kept flickering to the blade at her throat, but then Harry saw her moving her hand, ever so carefully, towards Pansy's exposed ankle, that stood out beneath her Death Eater robes.

'Pansy, I wasn't aiming for you!' Draco said desperately. 'I just wanted to get my father! He hurt me, he hurt you...he used both of us...I didn't mean what I said to him, but I swear I meant what I said to you...I love you--'

'I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!' Pansy shrieked, and she tightened her grip on the knife...

...and Ginny struck. She wrapped her hand about Pansy's ankle and Harry felt her unleash her Empathic powers into Pansy.

The effect was immediate; Pansy screamed in pain and dropped the knife as Ginny's grip tightened on her ankle.

'Stop it!' Pansy cried, and Harry groaned in pain as Ginny assaulted Pansy with Pansy's own misery, magnified a hundred times.

But Pansy's fury seemed a force by itself, and to Harry's shock, she again summoned her wand into her hand, raising it at Ginny. Through the haze of Ginny's power, Pansy opened her mouth to shout a curse.

_'Avada--'_

_'Diffindo!'_

The Cutting Curse came from James Marchbanks' wand, and sliced Pansy cleanly across the chest.

'NO!' Draco screamed.

Pansy stood there for a moment, staring in confusion, as blood began to bloom on her front. Ginny let go of her ankle and scrambled away on all fours, as Harry raced to her and gathered her up in his arms. Even as they found each other, they turned back to Pansy in mutual horror.

A silent, unmoving moment passed, and Pansy turned her eyes to Draco.

'Draco...' she whispered, and then her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the dirt floor of the Malfoy stables.

'No!' Draco roared again, and he dove at Pansy, picking her up in his arms, pressing a hand to her chest to staunch the bleeding.

'Draco...' she whispered.

'Pansy...' Draco begged, sobbing openly now as he cradled her in his arms. 'Don't leave 't you just...love me...' Pansy whispered, looking up at him with tears in her blue eyes.

'Pansy...' Draco cried.

'L-love you...' she whispered. She blinked once, and then the light in her blue eyes faded as she died in Draco's arms.

'NO!' Draco howled. 'No! Pansy...don't do this! Don't leave me! PANSY!' He shook her, but she flopped limply in his arms, and then Draco broke down completely, hugging Pansy to his body.

Harry bit his lip as he clung to Ginny, who trembled in his arms and cried softly. He buried his face in her dirty hair and breathed her in, not caring that she was filthy. Ginny was alive, in his arms, and even as he felt a rush of guilt, witnessing Draco lose, yet again, the one person who had every truly cared for him--even if unhealthily--Harry couldn't stop thanking whatever higher powers there were for delivering Ginny safely.

It seemed a long time before Harry felt gentle hands on his shoulders, urging him to stand.

'Harry...'

It was Lupin. Harry looked up and was never happier to see his former Defense teacher.

'Remus...' Harry whispered, and he clung to Ginny as Lupin and Kingsley helped them up. Ginny gave a weak moan as her knees wavered; Harry moved to scoop her into his arms, but Kingsley intervened, picking up Ginny himself just as she passed out.

'Ginny,' Harry whispered.

'She's all right, Harry, she's just fainted,' said Kingsley, 'but she needs the hospital. And so do you.'

'I'm fine, I want to go with her--' Harry protested.

'Harry, let Kingsley take Ginny,' Lupin ordered. 'You saw what she just did, and how badly injured and exhausted she was when she did it. She's going to need extensive treatment and it won't do her any good to have you hovering over her. Especially considering...what you have between you.'

Harry swallowed, and realized Lupin was right. Their Empathic connection only meant that the closer Harry was to her, the more she'd sense his own worry. She certainly didn't need that on top of everything else.

Harry looked mournfully at Ginny, who looked almost as if she were sleeping in Kingsley's arms.

'Okay,' said Harry.

'We'll make sure she gets there, Harry,' said Kingsley. 'I've got a Portkey right here with me, and Arthur and Molly are waiting for us. I should go.'

Harry nodded, but before Kingsley could pull away, he leaned forward a brushed a kiss on Ginny's forehead.

Ginny stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Kingsley nodded to Harry and Lupin before heading out of the stables. Lupin, meanwhile, looked at Harry with unchecked exasperation.

'Harry, after what you've pulled this morning...I suppose I should be relieved that you at least had the courtesy to leave me a note about where you were going,' he said hotly. 'What were you thinking, coming here alone?'

'You know what I was thinking, you read the note,' Harry shot back.

'I know that just because you vanquished Voldemort, that doesn't make you invincible,' Lupin countered. 'After what you went through last night with him...I can only imagine what that must have been like...'

'It wasn't fun,' Harry snapped. 'Let's just leave it at that, shall we? Look, Remus, Ginny...she's gone through hell, okay? And no matter what you say, it's my fault it happened.'

'Harry--'

'I know, I know,' Harry said wearily. 'I didn't make Ginny be my girlfriend, I didn't choose to have a mad dark wizard running after me, I didn't deliberately put her life in danger...but you know what, Remus? I don't want to hear any of that, okay? The fact is, I'm the reason Ginny went through everything she went through, and if you think I was just going to sit around and wait for somebody else to get her back, you're mad.'

Lupin sighed. 'It's never any good lecturing you, is it?' he said. 'You really are your father's son.' His eyes strayed over to Tonks, who was gently pulling Draco away from Pansy Parkinson's limp body.

'You killed her!' Draco suddenly roared, launching himself at James Marchbanks. 'You fucking bastard, you murdered her!'

'Draco!' Tonks snapped, holding onto him tightly. Lupin tensed as if to help her, but a very burly, large Auror with straw-colored hair stepped in, pulling Draco away from Marchbanks.

'Let go of me!' Draco screamed, struggling and kicking.

Again, Lupin made to go to Tonks, but Tonks yelled at the burly Auror, 'Hold him still!' The Auror was twice Draco's size and managed to keep Draco's struggles to a minimum as Tonks removed a syringe from a satchel at her waist, enlarged it, and stuck Draco's upper arm with it.

Draco let out a cry of protest that, a few seconds later, dissolved into a moan, and he went slack in the burly Auror's arms. The Auror scooped Draco up as if he weighed nothing at all and carried him from the stables, and James Marchbanks carried Pansy's body out of the stables, with Tonks following behind.

Tonks paused long enough to look back at Lupin and Harry.

'Coming?' she said.

'In a minute,' said Lupin. She smiled sadly at him, and then followed Marchbanks out.

Lupin watched her go. 'For what it's worth, Harry,' he said, his eyes still on Tonks as she turned the corner out of the stables, 'I would have done the same as you, if Tonks had been...'

He colored slightly, and said, 'I suppose that makes me a hypocrite, lecturing you about coming after Ginny when I would have done the same for Tonks.'

Harry smiled weakly. 'It's okay,' he said, shrugging.

'I have the feeling Draco had the same motives, coming here,' Lupin mused. 'However strange it may seem...Draco loved both of them, in his way.'

_In his way. In his twisted, weird, disgusting way, maybe._

Harry swallowed and felt a sting of pity for Draco. He wanted to despise Draco for everything he'd done...indeed, Harry did despise Draco...and yet, the pity wouldn't go away.

'What's going to happen to him now?' he asked.

'I don't know,' said Lupin sadly. 'He'll need counseling, I know that much.'

'Yeah, just a little,' said Harry sarcastically, running a hand through his hair.

'So will you, I'm guessing,' said Lupin pointedly. 'After what happened--'

'I don't want to talk about that,' Harry snapped.

'You'll have to at some point,' Lupin insisted. Harry started to protest again, but Lupin cut him off.

'Harry, I know how you are,' he said. 'You hold things inside you because you don't want to be seen as weak. You don't want to trust anyone with that side of yourself that's frail, a side that all of us have. You've been that way all your life, I would imagine, or at least as long as I've known you. But you saw how bottling up your emotions served you two years ago.'

'I know!' Harry snarled. 'You think I don't go to bed every night thinking about how stupid I was, how it was my fault Sirius--'

'You think I don't blame myself for Sirius just as fiercely as you?' Lupin retorted. 'Harry, my god, I was responsible for making sure Sirius didn't do anything foolish. If anyone should have stopped Sirius from going out that night, it was me. Every single day, I have to live with the knowledge that I didn't do enough. I should have hexed him to keep from going, but I didn't.'

Lupin sighed again. 'We can stand here and play the blame game until we're blue in the face,' he said sadly. 'Anyone of us could have done one thing differently that night, and maybe, just maybe, Sirius would be here talking to you instead of me. But none of us can _know_ if doing anything differently would have made a difference. It wasn't your fault or my fault or Dumbledore's fault that Sirius died. It was Voldemort's fault, and Bellatrix Lestrange's fault.'

Harry closed his eyes and put his face in his hand.

'Harry, sooner or later you're going to come face to face with what you've done,' said Lupin. 'You defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard in a century. A wizard who affected every single life around him. You can scoff at the idea of counseling all you want, but you will need it. Ginny will need it. We may all of us need it.'

Harry scowled at Lupin for a moment, but the expression on the werewolf's face was so heavy and sad that Harry felt his annoyance ebb away.

'We should get you back,' said Lupin. 'Come. I have a Portkey waiting.'

* * *

Harry felt his feet slam onto the cold marble floor of the St. Mungo's lobby, and the next thing he felt was a pair of arms crush him in an embrace.

'Oh, Harry!' Mrs. Weasley sobbed. 'Thank god...you're all right...you saved Ginny, you saved our baby...and Ron...you wonderful boy...'

Harry gasped for breath and was just about to ask Mrs. Weasley to ease up, when she backed off and looked at him with tear-stained eyes.

'Harry,' said a gruff voice, and Harry looked up to see Mr. Weasley smiling down at him; Mr. Weasley's eyes--like his wife's--had dark circles beneath and were red-rimmed. They both looked awful, as if they'd been up the entire night crying and worrying.

'Hi, Mr. Weasley,' said Harry, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the older man's gaze.

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to say something, but then he, too, pulled Harry into an embrace.

'Thank you,' he said, his voice cracking.

He let go of Harry, who was blushing and who wanted to flee. Harry didn't feel like much of a hero; both Ron and Ginny had gone through hell in the past twenty-four hours, and Harry couldn't help but blame himself. He thought of what Lupin had told him, only minutes ago, about the 'blame game.' And then he realized just how very exhausted he was. His leg was sore; his heart was sore. He just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. But he had to ask about Ron and Ginny first.

'Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,' he said, 'how are Ron and Ginny? How's everyone?'

Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together; she looked like she might break down again. Mr. Weasley spoke.

'Ginny just went in,' he said, 'but...Healer Smethwyck says her physical injuries are easy enough to heal. It's...well...she's just been through such an ordeal...'

Harry nodded; Ginny's emotional trauma was going to be much more serious than her physical one.

'And Ron?' Harry asked.

'Ron's...he's in a coma,' he said slowly. 'It's...not life threatening, the Healers said. It's just...he was so badly injured, the Healers think he's gone into the coma just to help himself heal. There was some extensive nerve damage in his left eye...the Healers aren't sure if...if they can fix that. They can't work on him while he's in the coma, they said. Er...he had...several broken ribs...a punctured lung...and of course there was...'

Mr. Weasley trailed off, for which Harry was grateful; neither of them were keen to discuss a catalog of Ron's injuries.

'What about Hermione?' Harry asked. 'Do you know anything about her?'

'She's at the school,' said Arthur, 'but...well, the good news is...she's going to see her parents in a few hours. At least, that's what Minerva told us. Hermione wanted to come right back here to see Ron, but...'

Harry bit his lip; the subject of Ron was clearly painful to Mr. Weasley.

'Bill and Charlie are fine, and so's Percy,' said Mrs. Weasley quickly. 'Percy and the twins weren't anywhere near the fighting, thank god...Fred seems to be all healed up...as much as he can be. George...well, George is talking a bit more now. He's been on that potion treatment and it's finally starting to make real progress...'

Mrs. Weasley suddenly broke down again and sank against her husband.

'Shh, Molly,' Mr. Weasley whispered. 'It's over. We've made it...'

He, too, suddenly seemed to become too emotional to speak, and Harry left them there, a husband and wife clinging to each other for solace and strength.

'Harry?'

Harry turned wearily to see Augustus Pye standing with his arms folded across his chest. He held a flask in his left hand.

'Is it all right if I take you back to your room now?' Augustus asked, looking torn between annoyance and good humor.

Harry nodded and let Augustus lead him out of the busy lobby and down the corridor to his room. Harry went inside and upon seeing the bed, wanted only to collapse upon it.

'Wait,' said Augustus, 'you should clean yourself up a bit.'

'Right,' said Harry, and he removed Ginny's wand from his pocket--just the sight of Ginny's wand in his hand made him ache for her--and did a few Cleaning Charms. The effort of just those simple charms, along with changing out of his dirty, transfigured clothing and into a fresh set of hospital pyjamas, took the very last of his strength. He crawled into the bed as Augustus set the flask down on the bedside table.

'You'll want to take that,' he said. 'It'll help you sleep.'

'I don't need any help sleeping,' Harry said wearily, flopping back onto the pillows and pulling the covers over himself.

'Suit yourself,' said Augustus. 'It's there if you need it.'

The Healer turned and started to leave the room, when Harry said, 'Augustus?'

Augustus turned back. 'Yeah?'

'Thanks,' said Harry, feeling the pull of sleep pressing on his eyes. 'For everything. The Weasleys...'

'Just doing my job,' said Augustus with a shrug, and he left.

Harry felt his eyes drift closed. Two words were buzzing in his otherwise exhausted mind: 'It's over.' Mr. Weasley had said them, while holding onto his wife.

_It's over._

For reasons, Harry couldn't explain, those words brought no comfort, but he realized he was too bloody tired to analyze why. He instead tried to focus on Ginny, and holding her in his arms; it was this image that stayed with him as he surrendered at last to the embrace of sleep.

* * *

**A/N: The ordeals of Voldemort and Pansy Parkinson may be over for the Quartet, but this story isn't _quite_ there yet. Just a couple more chapters and then the epilogue. **

**My thanks as always to lina and to Buckbeaky. **


	53. Chapter Fifty Three: In The Wake

_Chapter Fifty-Three: In The Wake_

After Harry awoke the third time from yet another nightmare about Voldemort, he relented and took the sleeping potion Augustus had left for him.

Hours later, Harry was dragged from sleep to the sounds of someone in his room. His eyes opened slowly, and he felt his body tense up; he wondered for a moment if someone were about to attack him, and realized that trying to fend off an attack in his groggy condition would be hopeless, anyway. But as his vision focused, he saw a pretty young medi-witch placing a tray of food on his bed table.

'Oh, you're awake!' she said, blushing.

'Yeah,' Harry mumbled, pulling himself to a sitting position; every muscle in his body felt stiff. He looked out his window and saw that it was now night, with a half-moon glowing soft silver light into the room.

'Are you hungry at all? I can always do a Warming Charm on this if you'd rather sleep.'

'No, thanks,' said Harry, shaking his head to clear it, and just then, his stomach growled. The medi-witch pursed her lips as though to stop herself from laughing, and Harry smiled. 'I guess I am hungry.'

'Well, that's a good sign,' said the medi-witch. 'For your recovery, I mean.'

Harry nodded, and for a moment, he and the witch looked at each other awkwardly.

'You missed quite a scene while you were out,' said the witch. 'Reporters came. They were determined to talk to you, but Healer Smethwyck and some Aurors chucked them out.'

Harry smirked, but then smiled again at the witch. 'That's good to know. I don't much fancy dealing with that lot--reporters, I mean.'

'No, I imagine you don't,' said the witch. 'Anyway, you must be famished. I'll leave you alone.'

The witch started out, but Harry called out to her.

'Yes?' she said.

'What's your name?'

'Sophie,' said the witch. 'Sophie Dobbs.'

'Dobbs...' said Harry. 'That name...sounds familiar.'

'My sister Emma goes to Hogwarts,' said Sophie. 'She's in fourth year, a Hufflepuff.'

'And...and she's okay?'

'She's fine,' said Sophie. 'Thanks to you...and your friends.'

Harry swallowed. 'I had a lot of help.'

'I know,' said Sophie. She gave him a sad smile and started out again.

'Sophie!' Harry called.

'Yes?'

'Is Ginny Weasley okay?' he asked. 'And Ron...what about Ron?'

Sophie shook her head. 'I don't know anything about them, my shift only started an hour ago. I can find out for you if you'd like.'

'No,' said Harry, 'that's okay. I'm sure they're fine...I can find out tomorrow.'

Sophie gave him one last smile and a nod, and left the room. Harry contemplated his meal that rested on the table beside him. His stomach gave another insistent growl, and yet Harry had never felt less like eating.

_Eat something anyway. You have to keep your strength up._

He forced himself to eat the overcooked chicken and mushy mashed potatoes and carrots, but didn't touch the Brussels sprouts. He gulped down the glass of pumpkin juice—which was thankfully chilled—and then put the tray back down on the table beside his bed. He felt sleep pulling at him again, and lay back against his pillows, closing his eyes...

_Harry!_

He sat up as a burst of pain sizzled through his bloodstream.

_Ginny..._

He felt another rush of pain. Something was very wrong.

He swung his legs around and got up from the bed. The floor was freezing; he slid his feet into his slippers and pulled on the dressing gown provided to him. He'd probably get in trouble again, being up and about and out of his room, but he didn't care. Ginny was hurting...he had to get to her...

He double-checked that Ginny's wand was in his dressing gown pocket and quietly left his room. The corridors were dimly lit, and Harry realized it must be rather late at night by now, which would also explain why he hadn't yet bumped into anyone.

He checked his watch—the one Ginny had given him for Christmas—before remembering that it didn't have numbers on it or even tell the time, because it was a miniaturized replica of the Weasley clock. Harry's eyes did stray to Ginny's name, and the tightening in his abdomen brought on by Ginny's pain was eased, if only slightly, when he saw that her name was positioned beneath "In Hospital."

There was another surge of pain as Harry climbed down the staircase from his room, and still another as he entered the main lobby, which was, surprisingly, empty.

Harry felt another sizzle of pain in his body and with a burst of adrenaline, he ran to the reception desk, flipping open the register, frantically scanning for Ginny's name...

Room 107, which was just down the corridor. Ron, meanwhile, was only two doors down.

Harry rushed down the corridor, skidding to a stop in front of Room 107; without preamble, he opened the door.

'NO! Help me...please help me!'

Ginny was screaming, and she was struggling. Harry's whole body sang with her pain, and she flailed about in the throes of a nightmare.

'Ginny...Ginny, wake up!'

Harry saw that two people were trying to subdue Ginny's flailing limbs. One was a medi-wizard, and another was Andromeda Tonks.

'Come on, Ginny...' said the medi-wizard.

_I'm here, Ginny!_

A moment after Harry reached out, Ginny seemed to snap awake, and dissolve at once into tears.

'Harry...' she whimpered, and she collapsed against Mrs. Tonks, who wrapped her arms about her.

Harry started towards her bed, but at that moment, Mrs. Tonks and the medi-wizard turned.

'Oi, what are you doing in here?' the medi-wizard snapped.

Ginny was sobbing hard, clinging to Mrs. Tonks. Her eyes met Harry's and she gave a small cry of pain, and Harry recoiled.

'Harry,' said Mrs. Tonks urgently, 'you can't be here.'

Harry didn't move; he was struck dumb, his body seemed to burn with Ginny's pain, but every time he tried to send her a calming thought, she reacted as though he was hurting her.

'Harry, you have to leave!' Mrs. Tonks ordered. 'Right now!'

Harry backed away, horrified at himself, at the scene. Ginny wept inconsolably, her tears soaking Mrs. Tonks's robes, but her eyes wouldn't leave Harry's face.

'I'm sorry, Ginny...' he said, stricken.

'Go, Harry!' Mrs. Tonks snapped.

Harry ran from the room. Once outside, he closed the door and leaned up against the wall. He was panting and felt suddenly exhausted, and then sensed another rush of pain. He moved away from Ginny's room, his heart splitting in two.

_I can't even get close to her. She's in so much pain...it's...it's like when she first found out..._

Harry moved further down the corridor and suddenly found himself in front of Ron's room. He looked inside, desperate for something, anything to quell the ache in his heart. Ron seemed to be bandaged almost from head to toe, with one bandage stretching over his eye. But the moonlight that softly struck his face showed him to be sleeping; he looked pale and haggard, but peaceful. Harry focused all his feelings on Ron, trying to ease the clenching of his heart at seeing Ginny...

_Don't think about Ginny. Thinking about her hurts both of you!_

Harry knew he shouldn't, knew he was being selfish, knew there'd be hell to pay if he were caught, but he slowly opened the door to Ron's room.

It was only when Harry was inside the room that he saw its second occupant. Hermione was there, sitting in a chair next to Ron; her head rested on her arms, which rested on Ron's bed. Harry couldn't tell if she was asleep at first. She must have heard him come in--the door creaked horribly--but she didn't stir.

'Hermione?' Harry whispered, crossing the room. He came to the other side of Ron's bed, and saw that she was, indeed, awake, and staring at Ron with an inscrutable expression on her face.

'Hey, Hermione,' Harry whispered.

'Wha--oh!' she said, looking up. 'Harry. What are you doing here?'

'I should ask you that,' said Harry, sitting down in the chair opposite. 'I thought you were with your parents.'

'I was,' said Hermione, 'but I had to come back here and check on him. They let me come. I Flooed here...their house is on the network now. They...understood I needed to be here.' She turned her eyes back on Ron, who slept on, undisturbed. Her jaw looked to have been fully healed; she seemed able to talk without much difficulty.

'How long have you been sitting here?' Harry asked.

'Three or four hours, I think,' said Hermione; her gaze on Ron was almost trance-like, unblinking.

'Hermione, you should get some sleep,' Harry whispered.

'You're up and about,' Hermione pointed out.

'Couldn't sleep,' said Harry. 'Did you just hear...Ginny?'

Hermione shook her head; she wouldn't stop looking at Ron. 'No,' she said. 'The sound-proofing in this place is quite good.'

'Oh,' said Harry heavily, and again, he forced himself to drive thoughts of Ginny from his mind. He couldn't, he wouldn't let himself contribute to her pain. Instead he looked at Ron.

'He looks better,' said Harry.

'Yes, he does,' said Hermione. 'He's a bit pale but...the Healers said he'll make it for sure. They said...he's very strong...he fought really hard...to live, I mean...that's what they said...they'd never seen anyone fight so hard...'

Her eyes filled with tears. 'He's been through a lot, hasn't he?'

Harry reached across Ron and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back, and wiped her eyes with her free hand.

'His eye,' she said, 'is damaged. He's not...he's not blind or anything, but...but when the wall fell on him, he was hit in the head and it damaged some of his nerves...his peripheral vision in his eye is mostly destroyed...that's what the Healers said...but...but if that's the worst of it...'

She broke off and looked up at Harry; her chin was trembling.

Harry did the only thing he could think to do; he moved around the foot of Ron's bed and came to Hermione, kneeling down and pulling her into his arms. She sobbed on his shoulder, clinging to him tightly.

Harry had never really embraced Hermione like this; he'd never been the one she'd leaned on. It had always been Ron; he'd always been the one to engage her, the first to show concern for her, the first to offer his strength. Harry thought with a pang of all the times he'd failed her in the past, all the times he'd been mean to her and pushed her away, when all she'd ever wanted was to help him. He clung to her more tightly, hoping that, by holding her now, he could at least start to make it up to her, to be the brother she'd never had. At the same time, he tried not to think about how he wished he could hold Ginny like this again...

_Don't think about Ginny. Don't hurt her. Think about Hermione. Be there for Hermione._

He held Hermione close to him, letting her cry, as Ron slept on peacefully.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when they left Ron's room. They had both fallen asleep in chairs next to Ron's bed. Harry awoke when sunlight pierced the room and a beam of it landed on his face. He woke Hermione gently. 

'Hermione,' he whispered, tapping her on the hand. 'We should go. We'll get in trouble if we're found in here.'

'What?' she murmured, blinking sleepily. 'Oh, yes.'

She stood up slowly, but as she put weight on her left leg, she gave a little whimper and staggered slightly.

'Hey...' Harry said urgently, rushing to her side. 'You okay?'

'I'm fine,' Hermione insisted. 'It's just the burn on my leg. The muscles hurt and it stings when I move it.'

She tried to take a step but faltered again, and Harry put an arm around her waist.

'Harry, I don't need--'

'Yes, you do,' Harry said, giving her a stern but fond look. She sighed and leaned against him, and they moved slowly from Ron's room.

'You came here on this bad leg? By Floo Powder? Are you mad?' Harry asked her, when she winced again as they moved out of Ron's room.

'It's no big deal, Harry,' Hermione said softly.

'And you lecture me about taking risks,' said Harry, shaking his head and smiling.

She laughed then, a real laugh, and it warmed Harry's heart to hear it. He clung to her laughter as they moved down the corridor, past Ginny's room. He forced himself not to look through the window on her door, for fear of hurting her again with his presence, but Hermione caught the anguished look in his eyes.

'Harry...' she said softly, stopping them just before they came into the lobby. 'You're worried about Ginny.'

Harry started to say something, but he realized lying would be pointless. The only thing he could do was try to contain the emotions that were suddenly bursting to come out.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Do you want to talk about it?' said Hermione.

'Not really,' said Harry. He waited for Hermione to argue, to insist he open up, but instead she hugged him.

'Okay,' she said. 'But...if you ever want to...I'm here.'

He hugged her back, feeling absurdly grateful to her just then.

'Thanks,' he said. They broke apart.

'I should go back to my room,' said Harry. 'Augustus'll kill me if he catches me out of bed.'

'My parents are probably still waiting up for me,' said Hermione, smiling.

'Are you coming back later?' Harry asked. He suddenly realized how alone he felt. Ron was unconscious and Ginny...he couldn't even go near her. Hermione was all he had left.

'Yes,' said Hermione, and Harry felt another wave of relief. She kissed him quickly on the cheek. 'If he wakes up...you'll make sure someone tells me?'

'I'll Apparate to you myself,' said Harry, grinning at her.

They parted ways, with Hermione going to the fireplace in the lobby and Harry heading down the corridor to his room. He heard the _whoosh!_ of Hermione's departure, and felt immediately bereft again. He also decided, right then and there, that he despised hospitals, especially in the moments just before dawn. Things would be busy soon enough, but now, it was quiet as a grave.

_There's a cheerful thought,_ Harry thought glumly.

As he moved into his bedroom, he suddenly became aware of the many aches and pains in his body. Soreness, no doubt, from everything he'd gone through, and sleeping in a chair in Ron's room hadn't helped matters.

But the physical aches were nothing compared to the increasing feeling of hollowness inside Harry's chest. He felt adrift, unanchored, and he was floating on a grey sea, surrounded by mist. Alone.

His whole life could be defined by that word, he thought. It was a selfish, petty, and not altogether true thought, of course. Harry wasn't alone: he knew that. And yet, he was alone anyway. His parents were dead. His only blood relatives couldn't stand him, and the feeling was mutual. He thought of Hermione, at home with her parents, and of the Weasleys, that big, messy family he'd come to love as his own. And yet, they weren't his own, not really. It seemed so...small of Harry to dwell on something as insignificant as a blood tie, and yet he couldn't help it. He didn't share the Weasleys' blood, or Hermione's, or anyone else's he wanted to be around. Their blood had saved his life, had helped him save everyone, but it wasn't truly his.

He pulled of his dressing gown, tossing it over a chair, with Ginny's wand still inside the pocket, and climbed into bed. All the while, he reflected on the familial connection of blood.

Harry's blood ties were dead and gone. His parents' sacrifice was a sacrifice of love, but it was Lily's blood that had sealed the magic. Petunia's blood that had protected Harry all these years. He closed his eyes and suddenly wanted to sleep again. For a month...

_His mother and father were watching him. They were smiling, but they looked sad at the same time. They always seemed to look like that: as if they were so happy he was alive, but so sad that they couldn't be with him. And then Sirius joined them, and he was nothing like he'd been in the years Harry had known him. He was younger, handsome, and he was smiling, too, but like James and Lily, Sirius wore an expression of bittersweet regret, like he'd missed something. Dumbledore was also there, smiling, though a tear trickled down his cheek into his silver-white beard._

_Harry reached out to them. He just wanted them back...if he could just have his parents...his godfather...his blood ties..._

_Blood was flowing. Rivers of it. Adriana Marvolo was lying in it, and nearby a baby was screaming..._

_'Harry!'_

_The baby's screams became Ginny's screams. She was reaching out to him, begging him to get her away, to take her away...Harry reached for her, closing his hands over hers..._

_She screamed as her flesh burned at his touch, and shrank back._

_'Ginny! Don't go!' _

_'You cannot be here, Harry,' said Andromeda Tonks, and she closed a door--where had the door come from?--in Harry's face, and he was alone on the grey sea, in a ship with no rudder, no anchor, no sails..._

_But there were people on this ship. Swarms of them, all of them with cameras and notepads, they were surrounding him, asking him questions..._

_'How does it feel to have killed You-Know-Who?'_

_'Can you describe the battle?'_

_'Tell us about You-Know-Who's last moments, Harry!'_

_'You're not just the Boy Who Lived anymore, Harry! Can we call you the Boy Who Saved Us All?'_

_'The Boy Who Killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?'_

_'The Boy Who Beat Lord Thingy?'_

_'The Boy Who--'_

_'SHUT UP!' Harry screamed, clapping his hands over his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut. 'Shut up!'_

_Silence. Harry opened his eyes. The ship was empty, and there was mist all around him, and a soft breeze. The mist was moving...or was it the boat? Harry couldn't tell, but suddenly the mist cleared, and he saw, in the distant, an island. It was shrouded in fog and sorrow, and a lone red-headed girl stood on the shore, a beautiful red-headed girl with brown eyes that sparkled with tears. She reached out to him again._

_'Harry...'_

_'Ginny...'_

_But the ship was moving away from her, from the shore. Harry scanned frantically for something, anything to steer the boat back, but there was nothing. He didn't even have a wand...his wand was in pieces..._

_'Ginny!'_

_She wasn't reaching out to him anymore. She was just staring at him sadly. Harry couldn't stand it; the ship was getting further away; she was fading into the mist..._

_He leapt off the boat and into the water. It was freezing, and Harry remembered, too late, that he wasn't a very good swimmer. He wiped the front of his glasses and began to paddle clumsily toward Ginny, who cried silently. He looked up at her and kept his eyes on her face, paddling forward frantically..._

_Ginny shook her head sadly at him, and Harry stopped swimming..._

_He was pulled under. Something had pulled him under. A snake. An enormous snake with red eyes...it hissed at him...it spoke to him...in Parseltongue...how was a snake able to talk underwater...?_

_'She's mine...and so are you...'_

_Harry struggled, but the snake had wrapped itself around him...it began to squeeze him...he couldn't breathe...he looked up in the water and saw the blurred shape of Ginny on the shore..._

_And then there were people all around him, floating in the water, with eyes wide open and dead. Daphne Greengrass...Ernie MacMillan...Padma Patil...Kenneth Towler...Pansy Parkinson...they were grasping at him, pulling him down, with the snake..._

'Harry? Harry, wake up!'

Harry's eyes flew open and he jerked in his bed. Augustus Pye was standing over him with a worried expression on his face.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

'Fine,' Harry lied. 'Just...a bad dream.'

Augustus pursed his lips. 'You sure?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, and he grimaced. 'I guess I'll be having a lot of those for a while.'

Augustus nodded. 'Muggles call it Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome.'

'I have a syndrome?' said Harry.

'Most likely,' said Augustus. 'I think a lot of people who lived through that night have it.'

'Ginny?'

'Most definitely,' said Augustus. 'For her, it's magnified because of the Empathy. She'd experience real physical pain in addition to the emotional trauma.'

Harry swallowed painfully. 'When does it...go away? The Post Traumatic thing?'

'It varies from person to person,' said Augustus, 'and it depends on the level of the trauma witnessed. Some people bounce right back; others...take weeks or even months, and some...some take years.'

'And others don't recover at all, do they?' said Harry heavily.

'Occasionally, yes,' said Augustus. 'One can a suffer a complete mental and emotional breakdown.'

Harry felt his eyes begin to burn. 'That's what happened with Ginny, isn't it?'

'I don't know,' said Augustus. 'I'm not treating her. But Empaths...typically have the hardest time recovering from extreme trauma, yes.'

Harry put his head in his hands. 'Dammit,' he whispered.

'Harry, what happened to Ginny--'

'--isn't my fault,' said Harry dully. 'That's what everyone's been saying.'

Augustus paused. He seemed at a loss for anything else to say on this subject, but Harry was grateful. He liked the Healer but he didn't want to talk about Ginny to him anymore. He didn't really want to talk about Ginny at all, or think about the possibility of her never recovering from what she'd been through. If that happened...she was lost to Harry forever. The very notion made his heart ache.

'I came by to check on you,' Augustus said, changing the subject. 'I just wanted to run a few quick tests on your vital signs, check on that leg. If things look good you can go back to Hogwarts today, get away from this place.'

Harry looked up at Augustus, his emotions splitting in two.

_Leave here? Leave Ginny alone?_

_You can't see her, anyway. _

_But go back to Hogwarts? Where...where people will be crying over their dead...Daphne, Ernie, Padma...Pansy?_

_You can't help Ginny here. They might need your bed for someone else. It's best to leave..._

'Okay,' said Harry. 'What do I have to do?'

'Just lie back,' said Augustus, and he proceeded to hover his wand up and down Harry; his wand glowed various colors, and Augustus paused frequently to make a note on his clipboard. He spent a good few minutes examining Harry's leg, and then Harry's skull. Harry didn't need to guess why.

_He's making sure my mind hasn't cracked._

After another few minutes, it was over.

'Well, Harry, the good news is from a physical standpoint, you're fully recovered,' said Augustus, his voice tinged with a sad kind of sarcasm. 'You're free to check out at any time.' He put his hand on Harry's shoulder. 'I've left you some extra sleeping potion,' he added. 'Please take it with you.'

Harry nodded, and hardly noticed the Healer leave the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Harry closed his eyes, but he could still see Ginny; he could still see the ones who'd died...

He had to get out of here. Even if Hogwarts was a pile of rubble, it was better than being here, with Ginny nearby, and yet so far away from him.

Resolved, Harry threw the covers off his bed. He ignored the tray of food on the side table, and went to the closet; in it he found a clean pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and his old trainers. He wondered who would have supplied them, but then decided Mrs. Weasley probably had had the foresight to bring him fresh clothes. Thinking of Mrs. Weasley only made Harry think about Ron, and then about Ginny...

The knock at his door interrupted his dark thoughts.

'Come in,' he called, as he laced up his trainers.

The door opened, and Andromeda Tonks entered.

She looked exhausted; her hair was coming out of its bun, her eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles beneath. She moved gingerly, as if her whole body was sore, and she looked older and more haggard than Harry had ever seen her. She had clearly been up all night.

_Trying to help Ginny..._

Harry bit back a wince as he felt a distant twinge of Ginny's pain.

'Hello, Harry,' said Mrs. Tonks tiredly.

'Hi,' he said, his throat working against a lump.

'You're leaving?' said Mrs. Tonks, noting Harry's state of dress.

'Yeah, they said I was all recovered, I could check out,' Harry replied.

There was a moment of strained silence before Mrs. Tonks took a deep breath.

'I wanted to apologize,' she said, 'for what happened early this morning. For throwing you out of Ginny's room.'

Harry felt his Adam's apple bobbing against that awful lump.

'It's okay,' he managed. 'I know why you did it.'

'Yes, I imagine you do,' said Mrs. Tonks sadly.

'How is she?' Harry asked, unable to hide his eagerness to know something, anything about Ginny.

'She's very...very bad off,' said Mrs. Tonks, and she sat down wearily in a chair next to the closet. She rubbed her eyes, and looked up at Harry.

'She was in shock when she was brought in,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Very, very serious shock. What you saw last night...'

Harry looked away.

'...that was Ginny coming out of her shock...that was Ginny experiencing the realization of everything that had happened to her. The nightmare she had triggered a breakdown.'

Harry couldn't look at Mrs. Tonks. He bit his lip to fight the urge to scream, to cry.

'Will she...will she ever recover?' he whispered.

'If she's as strong as I think she is, then yes,' said Mrs. Tonks.

Harry looked up, seized by a sudden glimmer of hope. 'Really?'

'Really,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'But I won't lie to you Harry, just as I couldn't lie to her parents. Ginny's recovery could take a very long time.'

'How long?'

'I don't know,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Anytime an Empath experiences a traumatic event, or a series of traumatic events, she faces a tremendous uphill battle coming back from it, much more so than most. Ginny's scars run very deep, Harry. They go back to when she was a little girl and Tom Riddle possessed her with that diary.'

'But I thought she'd gotten over that,' said Harry, feeling his glimmer of hope evaporate.

'Nobody ever gets over a trauma,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'One only learns to accept what has happened, to learn from it, and to move on. Ginny will carry her experience with Riddle around with her for the rest of her life. Just as she'll carry what's happened in the past few days with her for the rest of her life.'

'What happened to her?' Harry asked.

'I don't know that yet,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'At least, not in any detail, and it wouldn't be my place to tell you if I did. All I do know, and all I can tell you is that she can't run from her pain, Harry. She will face it, and it will be hell for her, and there is nothing anyone can do to protect her from it.'

'Not even me,' Harry murmured. He felt like his heart was cracking.

'Especially not you,' said Mrs. Tonks, and she laid her hand over Harry's. 'Harry, the bond you have with Ginny...it comes with a price. I think you know what that is.'

Harry finally met Mrs. Tonks's eyes: they were heavy-lidded and utterly sad.

'I can't see her for a while, can I?' he said.

'No, you can't,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Just being near to her will be too much for her to handle. She is starting at rock-bottom now, Harry. She has to rebuild herself and push through all the pain she's feeling, but she won't be able to do that if you're with her. You share too many hard experiences. You're a reminder to her of everything terrible that's happened these past few days.'

Her words lanced Harry's heart.

'She...she only thinks of bad things when she thinks of me?' he said, the hurt in his heart threatening to overwhelm him. 'But...but we were happy together, sometimes...can't she think of those things?'

'Not yet,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Harry, I'm so sorry. I know you care for her--'

'I love her,' Harry said fiercely, tears forming in his eyes.

'Then let her be,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'I know this is hard for you, Harry, believe me. I wouldn't wish this on either of you. If there is anyone who deserves to be happy, it's you, and Ginny. But the bond you share wasn't just between the two of you. Voldemort was inside both of you. He's gone from this world, but not from your minds. He's infected every good feeling about you that Ginny has, to the point that she can't separate her good memories with you from the horrible ones with him. The associations are simply too close.'

Harry felt Mrs. Tonks's words sink in, and then felt a sudden flash of fury. He stood up and began to pace the room, willing himself not to completely blow up.

'Damn him,' he muttered, through clenched teeth. 'I...I killed him...and he's still here...he's still taking...'

Mrs. Tonks stood up and put a hand on his arm; he felt a flow of her powers inside him, and his muscles relaxed slightly, his anger faded somewhat, but he was left only with that horrible, hollow ache inside.

'How long?' Harry asked. 'How long do I...do I have to be away from her?'

'For as long as it takes,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Only Ginny can make that determination.'

Harry nodded, and felt the tears burning in his eyes again. He pushed them down.

'I can't even go to the Burrow this summer, can I?'

'You can,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'Ginny's going to be staying with me this summer, so I can work with her full-time.'

'She'll go back to school in the autumn?' Harry asked.

'If we both think she can handle it, yes,' said Mrs. Tonks.

'I won't be there,' Harry said bitterly. 'I suppose that's a good thing.'

Mrs. Tonks was silent for a moment, but then she said again, 'I'm so sorry, Harry.'

Harry let out a breath, and then another awful realization struck.

'I can't say good-bye to her, can I?'

'It wouldn't be wise,' said Mrs. Tonks.

It was too much. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Voldemort was dead. He was supposed to be relieved, he was supposed to be holding Ginny, they were supposed to be planning some kind of future.

'I need to be alone,' Harry said.

_Always alone._

'I understand,' said Mrs. Tonks. He wasn't looking at her; he heard her pad softly to his door. She opened it, but then, without looking at her, he sensed her turn back to him.

'You'll need help, too, Harry,' she said gently. 'You've shared a bond with an Empath, and that bond is unbreakable, and you have a bit of the gift now. You'll need...help.'

Harry snorted.

_The 'gift.' Some gift. This _gift_ was ruining his life, ruining everything..._

'I know an Empath,' she said. 'She's in Switzerland. Geneva. She's very skilled. She could help you, if you like.'

Harry nodded dully.

Mrs. Tonks pulled a small piece of parchment from her robes and laid it gently on the chair in which she'd just been sitting. 'This is her name and contact information. I've already spoken with her. She's agreed to see you whenever you like, for as long as you like. She won't charge you anything, either...she's retired and has quite a fortune left over.'

Harry nodded again.

'Oh,' said Mrs. Tonks, 'I'll...be needing Ginny's wand, if you still have it.'

Harry pulled the wand from the pocket of his dressing gown, which was still thrown over the chair. He handed the wand to her, and she thanked him as she pocketed it.

'Please take care of yourself, Harry,' she said.

He listened to Mrs. Tonks' soft footfalls; she paused by the door, and he looked up.

'She'll get through this,' said Mrs. Tonks. 'She's very, very strong. She just needs time.' Mrs. Tonks paused. 'I don't want you to have any unrealistic expectations, but...please, don't give up hope.'

Hope.What hope was there? Ginny might come through this eventually, but would it be too late for them?

The door shut, and Harry looked up. Mrs. Tonks was gone. He was alone again. He stood in the center of the room, staring after Mrs. Tonks, his emotions swirling around him, threatening to drown him, like the snake in his dream. The snake that was Voldemort...that owned him, and Ginny...

Harry picked up the closest thing he could find: the flask of sleeping potion Augustus Pye had left him. He hurled it against the wall with a roar of anguish, where it shattered and sent potion flying, and he sank to the floor, the tears finally pouring out of him in great, hot torrents.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how long he'd sat on the floor. It was only when there was another knock on the door that he looked up. 

'Come in,' he croaked, picking himself up wearily off the floor and wiping his face quickly.

Remus Lupin entered, and his face was tight with emotion.

'Harry,' he said urgently. 'Come with me. It's Ron. He's awake.'

Harry staggered as though he'd been punched. He felt like he'd been punched.

'Harry, are you okay?' said Lupin, going quickly to his side and putting an arm around his shoulder.

'Yeah,' Harry lied, trying to process Lupin's news. Ron was awake. 'Is Ron...is he okay?'

'He's talking,' said Lupin. 'He's asking for you, and Hermione.'

'Hermione...' said Harry. 'I told her I'd tell her--'

'Tonks just went to her parents' house,' said Lupin. 'Are you sure you're all right?'

'Yeah,' Harry repeated. 'I want to see Ron.'

Ron. Ron was awake. Harry latched onto this single bit of happy news; it was the only thing that kept his legs under him, allowed him to walk quickly out of his room, everything else momentarily forgotten.

Until he and Lupin passed room 107. Harry couldn't stop himself from looking inside, and felt his heart drop in his chest. The room was empty. Ginny was gone, with Mrs. Tonks, no doubt.

_Ron. Think about Ron!_

Room 109 was busy.

'Let's wait out here for a moment,' Lupin urged. 'Give Molly and Arthur and his brothers a bit of time with him.'

Harry nodded, noting that Lupin hadn't mentioned Ginny. Was she thus to be separated from her entire family for the course of her treatments?

A few minutes passed, and Harry began to pace impatiently. Hermione wasn't here yet, and he wondered at this, but then, finally, the door opened, and Charlie, Bill, Percy and Fred hobbled out, followed by Healer Smethwyck and Sophie Dobbs. Harry forgot about Hermione.

'Hey, guys,' said Harry urgently, nodding quickly at the Healers as he headed straight for Ron's brothers. 'How is he?'

It was Bill who spoke; Bill's arm was in a sling and his head had been shaved, and there was an ugly gash that stretched from his right temple around to the back of his skull.

'He's okay,' said Bill huskily. 'Talking. He's groggy, tired, of course. And sore, very sore. But he's okay.'

'The Healers said it was the most amazing recovery they'd ever seen,' said Fred, trying hard to sound jaunty and not quite succeeding because of the emotion in his voice.

Harry swallowed. 'What about his eye?'

At this, the Weasley brothers exchanged looks.

'His eye's pretty messed up,' said Charlie. 'He's got no real peripheral vision in it, and Healer Smethwyck said his night vision would be really impaired, too. Something about his pupil not being able to dilate properly, I think.'

Harry felt his shoulders sag. 'That's...that's not good. For Ron, you know, going to the Auror training.'

'No, it's not,' said Bill heavily. 'You need near-perfect vision for it.'

Harry snorted. 'Oh, right, like I have perfect vision,' he said hotly. 'I got into the programs and I wear these things!' He indicated his glasses.

'You're Harry Potter, mate,' said Fred. 'No Auror program in its right mind would turn you down.'

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. In the end, it always came down that: he was Famous Harry Potter, and Ron, no matter how hard he tried, would always be Just Ron. It wasn't fair.

'There has to be something they can do,' Harry protested. 'Can't they, I dunno, operate on the eye? Or...what about a magical eye? Mad-Eye Moody has one. And...and hey, he doesn't even have both legs!'

'Moody went into the program fit as a fiddle,' said Bill. 'By the time he lost those body parts he'd been at it for a good while, and he was one of the best.'

'Healer Smethwyck says Ron will recover completely everywhere else,' said Percy, leaning on his cane. 'He'd be fit enough to go to training, by the time it comes around, but...the eye.'

'He can't play Quidditch, either,' said Charlie. 'Same problem.'

'And we can't...' said Fred uncomfortably. 'Well...we talked about it, see? With Mum and Dad, before Ron woke up. We thought we could maybe, you know, pool our money and buy Ron a new eye. They've got these new ones out now, look just like real eyes--you can even match the color perfectly--but they do all this cool stuff. You know, like Moody's? Only better...but they're really expensive. We...we just don't have the money for it. Not since the store got blown to bits, and not since the Burrow...'

Fred blushed and broke off, looking ashamed. All the Weasley brothers looked ashamed.

'We didn't know how expensive it would be to rebuild the Burrow,' said Charlie sadly. 'And Fleur's going to have the baby any second, so...there goes Bill's bit. Fleur's money is gone--it was in a bank in France and the bank got blown up by Death Eaters yesterday. One of those magical eyes costs a few hundred Galleons at least. There's nothing left...to help Ron.'

'I've got money,' said Harry. 'Lots of it. I'll pay for it.'

'We're not asking you to--' Bill began.

'I know you're not,' said Harry. 'I'm offering.'

Fred licked his lips. 'That's...that's right spiffing of you, Harry,' he said, 'but, you know Ron. He'd never accept it.'

'Well, he'll just have to,' said Harry. 'That's all there is to it.'

Any further discussion was cut off when the door opened. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came out; both of them had tears in their eyes, but they were smiling. Mrs. Weasley crushed Harry in her arms.

'Oh, Harry,' she whispered, and that seemed to be all she could say. Mr. Weasley gave Harry a quick hug when Harry and Mrs. Weasley broke apart. Harry looked at both of them, and asked the one question he was burning to ask.

'What about...Ginny?'

It was a purely selfish question to ask, and Harry hated himself at once for asking it. Could he not allow the Weasleys a chance for a little celebration? Did he have to go bringing up such a painful subject? The looks on all the Weasleys' faces were suddenly sad.

'I'm sorry,' Harry said quickly.

'It's all right,' said Mr. Weasley. 'Ginny is with Mrs. Tonks. She left about half an hour ago. It's just...too bad she wasn't here when Ron woke up, but...perhaps that's for the best. Ginny needs...some time.'

Harry nodded.

'Well, Harry,' said Mrs. Weasley bracingly, 'I think Ron's more than ready to see you. Only...where's Hermione?'

'She'll be along shortly,' said Lupin, but for a moment, his face twitched. Harry thought about Hermione, and wondered why on earth she wasn't here yet, considering her parents' house had been hooked up to the Floo network. Surely...

'You go on ahead, Harry,' said Mrs. Weasley, giving him a gentle push. 'I'm sure Hermione will be here any minute.'

Harry nodded and headed into Ron's room, closing the door softly behind him, and his heart immediately went into his throat.

Ron was sitting up, taking a tentative sip of water from a glass. Most of his bandages had been either changed or removed altogether, and he now wore a patch over his eye, that made him look like some big, strapping Celtic pirate. His hair was unkempt and a bit too long, hanging in his blue eyes. His skin was pale and his freckles seemed to stand out more starkly against it. But when he saw Harry, his face brightened with a slow grin.

'Hiya, Harry,' he said, in a hoarse voice.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. He felt like crying again, but this time, the tears that threatened were not tears of despair. Ron was alive. Damaged, perhaps, but alive, and grinning. In that instant Harry's mind retraced every moment he'd shared with Ron, his best mate and the brother he'd never had, and he felt a tear escape and trail down his cheek.

_Crikey, when did I turn into such a hosepipe?_

'You don't look too happy to see me,' Ron joked, shrugging.

Harry's mouth suddenly broke into a grin, and he wiped the tear away.

'You stupid fuck,' he said, and he crossed the room and pulled Ron into a tight hug.

'Ow,' Ron groaned. 'Shit, Harry, ease up; half my ribs were broken.'

'Shut it,' said Harry, still holding on, and Ron put his arms around Harry. They hugged for a moment, and finally Harry let go of Ron and sat down on the bed beside him.

'Is "stupid fuck" my new nickname?' said Ron, smirking.

'Yeah, get used to it,' said Harry.

Ron put a hand to his chin. 'Hmm,' he mused. 'Well, I've been called worse, I guess.'

'How're you feeling?' Harry asked.

'Sore,' said Ron. 'Everywhere. Tired. You know, the usual when you get totally fucked up in battle.'

Harry bit his lip. 'Don't joke about that,' he said. 'You scared the shit out of us.'

Ron's good eye softened, and then looked sad. 'Where's Hermione?'

'She's on her way,' said Harry, pushing down his own nagging concern at Hermione's whereabouts. Why on earth wasn't she here already? Something hadn't happened to her? Ron looked worried, so Harry immediately made something up to reassure him.

'She's with her parents,' said Harry. 'They're probably trying to spend as much time together as they can. You know.'

Even as he said it, the excuse sounded lame to him. Hermione should be here. She'd said she would come back the minute she heard news of Ron. Harry felt a flash of anger at her. She was the one Ron really wanted to see, so where the hell was she?

'I'm sorry I scared you,' said Ron, as though searching for something to talk about.

'Don't do it again, okay?' said Harry.

'I'll try not to,' said Ron, smiling, but then his face went sad again. 'I don't think I'll be doing anything dangerous, really. Not with...' He indicated his damaged eye.

'Ron, listen--'

'I know what you're going to say, Harry, and the answer is no,' said Ron.

'Dammit, Ron stop being so stubborn,' said Harry.

'I'm a Weasley, it's physically impossible for me not to be stubborn,' Ron retorted.

'And proud,' said Harry, rolling his eyes.

'That, too,' said Ron. He paused, and sighed. 'Look, Harry, I appreciate it. I do. But...but I've been thinking. Maybe it's better this way. Hermione never really wanted me to be an Auror. She never wanted me to do anything dangerous, in fact. And...and I don't want to make her worry, you know?'

'But Ron, being an Auror, that's what you really want, isn't it?' said Harry. 'You've busted your arse these past two years, you've got the marks, you're going to ace the N.E.W.Ts. You'd be a really good Auror and you know it.'

Ron swallowed. 'I know,' he said softly.

Those two words cut Harry to the quick. Ron had never, ever had any confidence in himself. He'd always thought of himself as second best. Ron had long since gotten past his jealousy of Harry; Harry knew that. Ron had long since accepted that Harry was Harry, Harry was famous, Harry would always be in the spotlight. Even with the Head Boy badge, Ron didn't think too highly of himself.

And yet, Ron finally knew he was good at something, something bigger than wizard's chess. He was good at something and he'd gotten that way on his own steam. Even with Hermione's constant nagging and pushing, Ron wouldn't have made it this far unless he'd found the will and the drive to do it, and he had. He was proud of his accomplishments, finally, and with good reason. And now...all that hard work would go to waste. Harry couldn't understand why Ron would settle, why he would relegate himself to a boring desk job when the solution to his problems lay in Harry's vault at Gringott's.

'Ron,' said Harry. 'Come on, mate. Let me help you here, okay? I mean...shit. You saved my life. You saved everyone, you know that?'

'No, I didn't, that was you,' said Ron. 'I wasn't the one who took down Voldemort.'

'I couldn't have done it without you,' said Harry, 'and you know it. Your...your blood...it did save me.'

Ron blushed and looked down at his hands.

'Yeah, well,' he said, shrugging, 'we're mates. You needed it.' He looked up and smiled. 'Don't think I'm going to go getting sliced up for you all the time, though.'

Harry couldn't help but laugh for a moment. Typical Ron, always trying to inject humor into a situation. But then Ron's face became morose again.

'Hermione's still not here,' he said.

'She'll be here,' Harry insisted, silently cursing Hermione with the Bat Bogey Hex. 'Maybe she's just waiting to get you alone.'

Ron shrugged again, and nodded.

'Are you sure, Ron, you won't let me--'

'It's okay, Harry,' said Ron. 'I mean it. This is probably for the best. I mean...if Hermione and I are going have kids someday...it's probably better for me not to be out there doing dangerous stuff, you know?'

Harry pursed his lips. The mention of Ron and Hermione's future was painful to him, if only because it reminded him of his own situation with Ginny.

_Don't think about that. This is about Ron now. Be strong for Ron._

_Where the hell is Hermione?_

'You really have thought about that, haven't you?' said Harry. 'You and Hermione, I mean? Getting married and stuff?'

Ron looked at Harry with his good eye, and said, 'Yeah. I have. A lot. Actually...'

There was a pause, as Ron seemed to struggle with something.

'What?' Harry prodded.

'I had this vision,' said Ron. 'Or a dream. I'm not sure. Actually...it was two visions. Hermione and I were in hospital. Not like this. I mean, we were older...and married.'

He smiled wistfully at this, and Harry found himself unconsciously taking Ron's hand.

'She had a baby,' said Ron, now lost in his vision. He smiled. 'She was on a hospital bed screaming and cursing at me, calling me names...she was scared and in so much pain...I mean, hell, Harry, I'm really glad I'm a bloke, you know, not to have to go through that...and she was squeezing the hell out of my 't feel anything...but she was so brave...I just wish I could have taken a little pain from her, you know? But the Healers, they were calling her Mrs. Weasley...I really liked the sound of it...and...and then the Healer--it was Healer Smethwyck--he said it was a girl. We had a daughter. She was perfect. Red hair, even...and we held her together...and we called her Miranda Jane...'

Harry stared at Ron, as Ron's eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

'When did you see this?' he asked.

'A while ago,' said Ron. 'Well, the first time I saw it, it was just the two of us holding the baby, but...that longer vision...that happened in the Department of Mysteries. I think it must have been after the wall came down on me...I must have been knocked out. But that's all I thought about...I was dead, Harry...I was gone, but I kept seeing that baby...and Hermione...I knew I couldn't go anywhere yet, you know?'

Harry gripped Ron's hand harder. 'I know,' said Harry. 'The Healers said they'd seen anyone fight so hard to survive.'

Ron smiled. 'Yeah, well...' He didn't have to say anything else. Harry let out another breath. Ron had fought everything, every hurt and injury and pain, to come back, to be with Hermione, because he'd known that was where he was supposed to be. Harry felt a wave of envy for Ron, that he could be so sure, that he could know his place in life.

And yet, Hermione still wasn't here.

'Anyway,' said Ron, 'that's...that's sort of why I want to see Hermione. I mean, not just for that, of course, but...I wanted to tell her before, only I couldn't...but I think I could tell her now...only, she's not here...but...I want her to know, she's more important to me than some job, you know? I mean...yeah, being an Auror would be good, but...not as good as...you don't think something's happened to her, do you?'

'She'll be here, Ron,' said Harry firmly, and then he had an idea. 'Do you want me to go check on her? I've been released, I can leave whenever I want.'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Do you mind?'

'No,' said Harry. 'I'll go now.'

'Thanks, mate,' said Ron, his eyes glistening again.

Harry hugged him tightly for a moment, and then got up and crossed the room.

'Harry?' said Ron, his voice wavering.

'Yeah?'

'Is this...is this how you felt last year, with Susan?' Ron asked, biting his lip.

_Yes. It's exactly how I felt. I'm going to hex Hermione into a million pieces for putting Ron through this._

'She'll be here,' Harry said instead. 'I promise.'

Ron nodded, and suddenly Harry was seized with the urge to find Hermione right then and there, to knock some sense into her for daring to leave Ron like this, wondering where she was, if she was ever going to come to him.

He gave Ron a quick, encouraging grin that he didn't himself feel, and left the room. The Weasleys were all outside, looking anxious. Clearly, Hermione hadn't turned up.

'I'll find her,' said Harry. 'Where's the fireplace?' He didn't think he could Apparate.

'I'll take you,' said Lupin.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the Grangers' fireplace, brushing off soot as he went. He realized he'd never been inside this house before--he noted that it had a very new look to it, as if everything had recently been restored, which of course it had. 

'Harry!' said Mrs. Granger, startled. 'What on earth--'

'Sorry, Mrs. Granger,' said Harry, 'but I really need to speak with Hermione. It's about Ron.'

'We know,' said Mrs. Granger. 'He's awake.'

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. 'Why hasn't Hermione come to hospital?'

'I don't know, Harry,' said Mrs. Granger heavily. 'She got the news from Tonks and just...closed up. Tonks offered to take her right then and there, but she said she needed time to get ready.'

'Is she here?'

'In her room,' said Mrs. Granger. 'Can you speak with her, Harry? I...well, I know she really cares for Ron, but she's just so upset, and her father and I can't seem to get through to her. Warren had to go into the office...her door is second on the right.'

'I'll go,' said Harry, and he headed up the stairs with determined, angry strides. Quite honestly, he didn't care if Hermione was upset. Ron needed her, and she was ignoring him. It was unthinkable. It was wrong.

_Just because my love life is shot to hell, just because Ginny and I can't...that doesn't mean Ron and Hermione are going to fall apart, too. I'm not going to let that happen._

He knocked sharply on Hermione's door.

'Not now, Mum,' came a tired, strained voice. Harry snorted to himself and tried the knob, but it didn't budge. He clenched his teeth. He had no wand now, but he realized he didn't need it, nor did he care if what he was about to do broke a million Ministry laws.

_'Alohomora!'_ he snapped, and the door clicked open.

'Harry!' said Hermione indignantly when he barged into her room. She was sitting on her bed holding a pillow to her chest, her legs under the covers. 'What are you doing?'

'Looking for you,' said Harry hotly. 'What the hell is going on, Hermione? Ron's been awake for an hour, he's asking for you--no, he's about to bloody cry because you're not there.'

Hermione started to protest, but then her chin began to tremble. She didn't get up.

'I can't go see him,' she whispered.

Harry's anger at her only increased. He shut the door behind him, keen not to let Mrs. Granger hear what he was about to say to her only daughter.

'Don't,' he growled, struggling to keep his fury in check. 'Don't you dare do this to him, Hermione. Don't you fucking dare cop out the way Susan did to me!'

'I...I'm not!' Hermione protested, the tears falling from her eyes.

'Then why haven't you gone to see him?' Harry demanded, crossing to her bed and leaning forward, putting his hands on either side of her, trapping her. 'If you leave him, Hermione, after everything he's been through...if you break his heart...'

'Harry, please,' Hermione begged, and she buried her face in the pillow she held. 'You don't understand.'

Harry brutally yanked the pillow away from her. 'Bullshit,' he said. 'Look at me. You tell me why, Hermione. Tell me why I've had to make excuses to Ron for you.'

'I'm...I'm ashamed...' she whispered.

This revelation was news to Harry. He'd expected her to make some lame excuse. He hadn't actually expected the truth.

'Of what?' he asked incredulously.

'My leg,' she said, and she shifted and yanked back the covers. She was wearing shorts, which revealed both legs. The left one was wrapped in a loose bandage, which she opened.

'Look at it,' she whimpered. 'It's disgusting.'

The flesh of her left thigh was puckered and scarred and shiny with burn salve.

Harry swallowed a small wave of revulsion, but couldn't help the simultaneous wave of pity. He looked up at her, and she was crying silently, and suddenly he tried to comfort her.

'Ron won't care about that,' he insisted. 'You know he won't. He's mad for you Hermione, he loves you.'

'I know,' she whispered, and then Harry knew she wasn't telling him everything.

'Your leg's not the only reason,' said Harry. 'In fact, it's not the reason at all, is it?'

Hermione hesitated, but then she shook her head.

'What is it?' Harry asked, no longer angry, so much as desperate. 'You're...you haven't...fallen out of love with him, have you?'

'No!' Hermione cried, and her chin began to shake again. 'That's not it...I love him so much, Harry, it scares me. When I thought he was dead--'

'He didn't die, Hermione,' Harry interjected. 'He's alive, he's here. And he wants to see you. If you love him so much why aren't you with him?'

'I'm ashamed,' she repeated.

'Don't give me that--'

'I'm ashamed,' she said, 'because I was glad.'

'Glad?' Harry said, now confused. 'You're ashamed of being glad Ron's alive?'

'No!' Hermione snapped. 'I was glad that his eye got all messed up, okay? I was glad, because it meant there was no way he could be an Auror! Don't you get it, Harry? I don't want him to be an Auror! I don't want him risking himself like that all the time. I was glad when the Healers said his eye was damaged!' She shoved Harry back and climbed from her bed, wincing as she put weight on her damaged leg.

'How can I look at him?' she asked. 'He'll know. He'll know I'm happy he can't be an Auror.'

'He can be an Auror, Hermione,' Harry protested. 'He can. He just needs a new eye. His family can't afford it but I can!'

'I don't want him to get a new eye!' Hermione sobbed. 'I just want...I just want him here, and safe and not doing anything heroic...'

She broke down. Harry was tempted, for a moment, to leave her there. Let her hurt as much as Ron was hurting, wondering where she was, wondering, no doubt, whether she still loved him. But the sight of her looking so desperate pierced Harry's heart, and he got up and pulled her into his arms.

'It's okay,' he whispered against her frizzy hair.

'It's not,' Hermione said. 'I don't know how I can even look at him. I don't want him to be an Auror, Harry.'

'What about what he wants?' said Harry, stepping back from her and gripping her shoulders. 'You would let him give up something he's worked so hard for? He's never believed in himself until now, and you know it. You'd let him give that up, just to make you feel a bit better?'

'That's just it,' said Hermione. 'I can't make him give it up. That's what kills me. I don't know what to do.'

Harry saw the conflict in her eyes, and he knew it at once: it was the same expression Susan had given him, in the moments before she'd broken up with him, and broken his heart.

_No. I can't let Hermione do this to Ron._

'Hermione,' said Harry, in a strangled voice, 'Ron would give up being an Auror for you. He told me he would. I offered to get him that new eye and he wouldn't accept it, because of you. But that's not the only thing he said. He...he told me something and maybe you shouldn't hear this from me but...fine. You'll hear it from me. He had a couple of visions about you. You and him. One of them he had a while ago, but another one--he had it that night at the Ministry, when he was out...it was before he...he stopped breathing, I guess...'

'What sort of vision?' said Hermione tearfully.

'A good one,' said Harry fiercely. 'A really, really good one, Hermione. He saw you and him in hospital, and you...you were having his baby. You were married and you gave birth to his baby and he was right there the whole time...'

Hermione's face went white, and her eyes turned to saucers.

'We...we had a baby?' she said. 'We were married?'

'Yes,' said Harry, struggling to remember the details of Ron's dream or vision or whatever it was. 'A baby girl. She had red hair...you called her...Miranda Jane, I think...'

Hermione put a hand over her mouth and gave a sob. 'Oh, my god...' she whispered. 'Why didn't he tell me?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'He said he tried to a couple of times, but--'

'He did,' said Hermione, her eyes widening again. 'Two nights ago, right before he stopped breathing...he must have been trying to tell me...oh, god...and one time...'

'One time what?'

'He told me he'd always fight like hell to get back to me,' she said, more tears leaking from her eyes.

'That's it, then,' said Harry, his own eyes burning, his heart aching. 'He fought to survive for _you_, so you two could have a future together. And maybe that's why Fawkes came. Because Fawkes knew I needed him to come, and save Ron's life.'

'I can't make him give up being an Auror,' Hermione whimpered.

'Then don't,' said Harry. 'Ron knows what's at stake, Hermione. He doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to be reckless anymore. You should have seen him, Hermione. You're the thing he wants, more than anything; he'd take a desk job in a heartbeat if you asked him to, but...but I don't think he deserves that. And I know you don't. He's wanted this forever. Don't make him give it up. You know damn well he'd never stand in _your_ way. He might argue with you but he'd never stand in your way.'

Hermione gave another sob. 'I know,' she said. 'I know.'

'Come with me to hospital,' Harry urged, taking her hands in his. 'Please. Please just be there for him. He needs you, and you need him.'

Hermione let out yet another sob, nodded, and collapsed against Harry's chest. Harry clutched her tightly.

'I'm sorry...' she whispered. 'I'm so sorry...'

'Tell Ron,' said Harry.

She pulled back, and nodded, wiping her eyes. 'I'm ready to go,' she said. 'I just...I want to change into jeans.'

Harry nodded.

'I'll wait outside.'

'Wait,' said Hermione. 'Harry...before we go to St. Mungo's...I want...I want to stop somewhere first.'

'Hermione,' Harry warned.

'I want to stop at Gringott's,' she said, before he could start in on her.

'Gringott's?' said Harry, and then he understood, and he felt a small part of the weight on his chest ease, and a surge of warmth for the girl who'd come to be like a sister to him. 'Okay, we'll go to Gringott's first.'

* * *

They Flooed back to St. Mungo's. Hermione was struggling to keep herself together, and she wouldn't let go of Harry's hand as they walked down the corridor to Ron's room. A faint clanking issued from her jacket pocket with every step she took. 

The corridor was empty now; the Weasleys must have gone home, or perhaps they'd gone to the tea shop. Harry peeked into Ron's room and saw him sleeping.

'Should we wake him?' Hermione asked.

'Yes,' said Harry. 'Come on, Hermione, don't chicken out now.'

Hermione nodded quickly, but then she grabbed his arm as he started to open the door to room 109.

'I don't know what I'm going to say to him,' she said.

'Hermione,' said Harry, giving her a look. 'Come on. He's waited long enough.'

She nodded again, and let him open the door; Harry could feel how tense she was. She seemed half-ready to flee, and he gripped her hand more tightly as they came towards Ron's bed.

Hermione made a soft sound and bit her lip.

'It's okay,' Harry whispered, but then she let go of his hand.

'I just need...to stand here,' she said. Harry gave her another look. 'I'm not going anywhere, I promise,' she added.

'I'm going to wake him up,' said Harry. 'You'd better not move.'

Hermione nodded yet again, her frizzy hair bobbing, as Harry gently prodded Ron in the shoulder.

'Ron, mate, wake up,' he said.

Ron moaned and shifted in his sleep, but and Harry couldn't help but smile and shake his head.

'Typical,' he muttered, and Hermione stifled a giggle.

The giggle, Harry decided, was a very good sign.

'Ron, wake up!' Harry said, loudly. 'Someone's here to see you.'

Ron groaned and muttered, 'Jeez, Harry, I'm trying to...'

As his blue eyes fluttered open, Ron's mouth stopped moving. His eyes were fixed on Hermione.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Harry tensed. What if Hermione fled? Ron pulled himself into a sitting position, his eyes still locked with Hermione's.

'Hi,' he said.

'Hi,' she said.

Both of them suddenly seemed to have trouble breathing; both opened their mouths to speak. Hermione's eyes welled up; so did Ron's.

Harry stepped back from the bed as the dam broke. Hermione leapt forward and crashed into Ron, who stifled a groan of pain and threw his arms around her. She sobbed freely into his chest and he held onto her for dear life.

Harry watched them and felt a squeezing in his heart, and the inevitable jealousy that erupted from watching his two best friends share something that he himself knew he couldn't have with Ginny. Not now, and perhaps never again. All Harry had to sustain him was the memory of holding Ginny like that, like he'd never let go.

He swallowed against yet another lump in his throat, and knew he had to leave. This was what he wanted for Ron and Hermione--for them to stay together, to be together--and yet it pierced his heart to see it.

'I'll leave you guys alone,' he said, but he was sure neither Ron nor Hermione really heard him. He backed away from Ron's bed and started from the room, telling himself that he wouldn't cry, that he was sick of crying, he was turning into a bloody girl, with all this crying.

'Harry,' Ron called. Harry stopped and looked back. Hermione was still in Ron's arms, but they were both facing him. Both had tears on their cheeks.

'Thanks,' said Ron, and Hermione smiled at him. Harry forced himself to smile back.

'Any time,' he said. He waited until they hugged again, until they stopped looking at him, to make his escape.

He found the nearest loo and shut himself into a cubicle, and cried for what felt like the hundredth time in as many hours.

* * *

**  
A/N: I was going to split this one into two chapters but I decided to spare everyone the agony of a cliffhanger for Ron and Hermione. As such, there will be one more chapter--probably quite long--and an epilogue.**

**I know many of you will protest my decision regarding Harry and Ginny, but this is simply how things had to go. Harry and Ginny are not the same people as Ron and Hermione; they can't have the same ending as Ron and Hermione. Both Harry and Ginny have tremendous baggage that they must work through, but after the trauma of that final battle, and Ginny's kidnapping, they can't work through it together. They must go their separate ways and heal on their own before they can ever be together in a way that is healthy and happy.**

**The next chapter will answer what I am sure are a lot of open questions. We will learn about Draco and his father; about how George is doing--I left him out of this chapter on purpose, in case anyone was wondering; about Harry's plans; and of course, about what's been happening at the school, and what's going on with the other students. Please note that a few things will be left open-ended. I have done this to allow myself the option--an option I have absolutely no plans to explore in the immediate future, mind you--of possibly doing a sequel to this story sometime down the road. Given the energy and time and mental stress this story has brought, I am not going to make any promises about a sequel, but if one does happen, it won't be for a while. I will need to step away from this universe and, I don't know, write something happy and fluffy for a change.**

**My hearty thanks, as always, to lina, whose advice I hold in the highest esteem, and to Buckbeaky, who kept this story alive over the summer. Both betas have just been invaluable to me, and I can never really repay them for their help. Thanks, also, to MissBrooke06 for the title suggestion.**


	54. Chapter Fifty Four: Running Towards Some...

**A/N: Okay, I lied. I meant to write only one chapter and an epilogue, but this chapter got longer and longer, and simply became unwieldy, so I divided it into two.**

_Chapter Fifty-Four: Running Towards Something_

Ron couldn't be sure how long he held onto Hermione; he only knew he never wanted to let go of her.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, clinging to him so tightly it made his ribs hurt, but he didn't care about that.

'Sorry for what?' he murmured, breathing in the scent of her hair.

'For not coming right away,' she said, pulling back from him. 'I should have been right here--'

'It's okay,' he said, putting a finger to her lips. 'You're here now.'

She smiled tearfully and placed her hand against his cheek; he leaned into her touch, gripping her other small hand in both of his.

'Listen, Hermione,' he said slowly, 'about...about the...'

'About the what?' Hermione asked, now running her fingertips through his hair.

Ron swallowed; he knew he had to say this quickly, or it would never be said.

'My eye's all messed up,' he said, 'so it looks like being an Auror is out...but I want you to know it's okay...I'm fine with it, I swear...I know you weren't really keen on me being one, anyway...and I'd rather make you happy than make you worry all the time--'

'Ron, you can be an Auror,' said Hermione, and she reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a small, bulging suede sack that clinked suspiciously. She put the sack in his hands. Ron could feel the shape of the Galleons inside.

He let out a sigh. 'I told him not to do this,' Ron said. 'Look, Hermione, you tell Harry he has to take his money right back--'

'That's not Harry's money,' said Hermione, her voice straining slightly.

'What do you mean?' said Ron. 'Whose money is it?'

'It's mine,' said Hermione, her eyes filling again. 'Well, it was mine. It's yours now. For a new eye.'

The silence stretched as Ron stared at her. She bit her lip and smiled at him, and he was struck with something powerful. How could she do this? He didn't even know she had that kind of money.

'But...' he said thickly. 'You don't want me to be an Auror.'

'No, I don't,' she said. 'But I know it's what you want.'

'I want you,' he insisted. 'Hermione, I don't have to--'

'Yes, you do,' she interjected, struggling against fresh tears. 'You've wanted it forever. You've worked so hard, Ron, and you've come so far. I could never ask you to give up a dream like that. I know you'd never do that to me. I...I want you to be happy, and I know being an Auror is what would make you happy.'

'You make me happy,' Ron said fiercely. 'I don't need anything but you. You...you're one of my dreams, too, you always have been.'

'You shouldn't have to choose!' she said, a few tears dripping down her face. 'I don't want you to choose. I want you to have everything you want. I want everything for you.'

Ron's eyes burned; he could hardly believe what she was saying, what she was sacrificing. He never thought anyone could love him that much, ever. That this girl, this woman, his best friend, his lover, touched him so deeply it almost hurt, and he was filled with an ache that was both beautiful and agonizing, all at once. He had no idea what to say to her, how to tell her how much he loved her, admired her, felt for her...words didn't exist to express what he was feeling. It was almost too much.

'I don't know what to say,' he said finally. Because truly, he didn't.

'Say you'll take the money,' said Hermione, 'and use it to have the life you want.'

'I wouldn't want any life without you,' he said.

'You'll always have me,' she said.

'But you'll worry all the time about me,' said Ron. 'I don't want you to worry all the time about me.'

'I've been worrying about you all along,' said Hermione. 'It's the way I am. I'm a worrier.'

He smiled. 'You are that,' he said. He looked down at the sack in his hands, and then back at her. 'I'll pay you back for this. Every bit of it.'

'It's not a loan, it's a gift,' said Hermione.

'No arguments,' said Ron firmly, letting go of the sack and taking her hands in his. 'I'm paying you back, whether you like it or not. But...it might take a while. A few...dozen years or so.'

She laughed tearfully. 'I won't hold my breath,' she said. 'I love you.'

He rested his hands against her tear-stained cheeks and brushed the wetness away with his thumbs.

'I love you,' he said, and there were so many other things he wanted to say to her, but his eyes fell on her lips, full and parted and pink, and he had to kiss them, so he did.

She gave a soft whimper against his mouth, and parted her lips in response, threading her fingers into his hair. He took the invitation and swept his tongue against hers, and the kiss grew longer, deeper...he pulled her closer, and she clung to him as they kissed on and on, reminding each other how it felt just to do this...

The door clicked open and Ron vaguely heard footsteps, but he didn't care, he couldn't stop kissing Hermione...

'...if he's asleep we can always come back la--oh!'

Ron and Hermione broke apart and found themselves staring at his parents. Ron's ears immediately went red, and then it spread to his face; Hermione and his parents were all red, too. Ron's hands flew to his crotch to hide the embarrassing things happening there. He knew his hair was a mess, and that his lips were pink and swollen, because Hermione's hair was equally messy, her lips equally pink and swollen, and she was trying unsuccessfully to smooth the frizzy mess of curls that Ron's fingers had only seconds before been tangled in.

'Er...' said Ron stupidly.

'So sorry,' said Mr. Weasley quickly. 'We'll come back later.'

'No, Mr. Weasley,' said Hermione quickly. 'It's okay...I was...just leaving.'

The lie was so transparent Ron might have laughed, were he not in the throes of humiliation at having been caught passionately snogging his girlfriend by his parents.

'Are you sure?' said Mr. Weasley. 'We...we don't mind...'

'Arthur!' Mrs. Weasley hissed.

Ron put his head in his hands.

'It's fine,' said Hermione quickly. 'I just had to speak with Healer Smethwyck about...about something important. Something good.'

She picked up the sack of Galleons and gave Ron a swift peck on the cheek. 'I'll see you later, Ron.'

Ron gave her a very sheepish grin and squeezed her hand, and she left in a flurry of bushy brown hair, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Ron looked at his parents and felt his face heat up again.

'We...didn't mean to interrupt,' said Mr. Weasley.

'I'd say it's a good thing we did,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'or the room might have gone up in flames and the two of you wouldn't have noticed.'

'Mum!' Ron cringed and shrank back in his bed.

Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at her youngest son and kissed him on the forehead.

'How are you feeling, dear?' she asked.

'Fine,' said Ron. 'Pretty good, actually.'

'I can guess why,' Mr. Weasley said, in a mock-musing tone.

'Dad!'

'What?' said Mr. Weasley innocently. 'I was simply commenting on the excellent care they provide here at St. Mungo's.'

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged amused glances, but then they both turned serious.

'Healer Smethwyck says you can check out of here tomorrow,' said Mrs. Weasley.

'Good,' said Ron. 'I hate hospitals. I guess I go back to school, right? I assume N.E.W.Ts are still on. There's still a few weeks left of term--what?'

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances again, this time much more somber.

'What's the matter?' said Ron, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. 'What's happened? Is it George?'

Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears. 'No, George is fine,' she said. 'He's napping right now, the potion treatment he's on sometimes wears him out a bit.'

'Can I see him?' said Ron, relaxing a bit.

'Tomorrow,' said Mr. Weasley. 'Ron...we have to tell you about Ginny.'

'Ginny?' said Ron, and he felt his insides seize up again.

'Your sister,' said Mr. Weasley, 'well, you weren't awake for this, but she was abducted.'

'I know that,' said Ron, confused. 'Voldemort took her--'

'She was abducted a second time,' said Mrs. Weasley slowly.

'What?' said Ron. 'I don't understand.'

'To be honest, we don't understand all of it, either,' said Mr. Weasley. 'We haven't been able to get the full story. Draco Malfoy's been under sedation--'

'Malfoy?' said Ron hotly. 'What's he got to do with Ginny? Did he kidnap her, because if he did, so help me...' Ron started to swing his legs around, but Mrs. Weasley stopped him.

'Ron, sit back,' she said. 'Ginny was rescued. By Draco Malfoy...and Harry.'

'Oh,' said Ron, relaxing once more. 'Well...that's good, isn't it? Who took her?'

'A girl by the name of Pansy Parkinson,' said Mr. Weasley. 'Apparently she was a friend of Draco's. Did you know her?'

Ron stared at his parents. It was impossible, what they were saying. There had to be some mistake. Pansy was dead, long dead. She couldn't have taken Ginny, it didn't make any sense...

And then Ron remembered everything. His visions of Pansy; his difficulty finding her; the nagging sense, buried in the back of his mind, that something was off about the whole situation. She'd been brewing a potion in those visions. Polyjuice Potion. And the girl who he'd seen get raped and murdered was never Pansy, it was someone else made to look like Pansy...

Ron felt sick, but he forced himself to stay calm.

'I know Pansy,' he finally said.

'This girl, Pansy,' said Mr. Weasley, 'was working with Lucius Malfoy; Kingsley is quite certain Lucius set up the whole thing, and that Pansy was working under Malfoy's orders.'

'Lucius Malfoy?' Ron repeated, feeling a surge of hatred again. 'Did he hurt Ginny?'

'We don't know who hurt her, only that she was hurt,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'We don't know much of anything. Harry and Draco rescued Ginny and Pansy...she was killed during the rescue...an Auror killed her...he didn't mean to, but Pansy was about to use a Killing Curse and the Auror...he was tired, he overreacted...'

'So Pansy...she's really dead?' said Ron slowly.

'Yes,' said Mr. Weasley heavily. 'But Ginny...Ron, we don't know what Ginny went through when she was held captive. She won't say anything about it, and Draco Malfoy...as I said, he's under sedation, and Harry...Harry doesn't know anything, either...we couldn't really bring ourselves to ask him anything, even if he knew, not after what he's been through...'

'What's wrong with Ginny?' Ron asked, his stomach again twisting with dread.

'She's...she's had an emotional collapse,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'The Healers told us...apparently, she's an Empath...we had no idea...but she was so horribly traumatized by what happened while she was being held captive...she's very, very bad off...'

Mrs. Weasley dissolved into tears and sagged against Mr. Weasley.

'Did you know she was...an Empath?' said Mr. Weasley.

Ron saw no point in lying to his parents, not now. 'Yeah,' he said heavily. 'Yeah, I knew. I wasn't supposed to say anything.'

Mr. Weasley nodded, his eyes red-rimmed. 'Why the secrecy?' he asked. He wasn't accusing, he was simply asking, and yet to Ron, it was an accusation all the same.

'She was helping Harry,' said Ron. 'They were working together...so Harry could have the mental strength to fight Voldemort...Harry and Voldemort had this...this mental thing between them and Ginny was trying to help Harry with that. You know...because she...she had that thing with Riddle...'

Mrs. Weasley gave another sob, and Mr. Weasley nodded again.

'Does Harry know?' Ron asked.

'He knows,' said Mr. Weasley. 'He's not allowed to see her. Andromeda Tonks has agreed to help Ginny; she told us...Harry and Ginny have formed an Empathic bond, but...that bond is hurting both of them. They have to be separated.'

Ron felt his jaw drop, and then felt heartsick at the unfairness of it.

'Harry never said anything,' said Ron. 'When he was here earlier.'

'I suspect Harry was trying to focus on you,' said Mr. Weasley, smiling sadly.

Ron felt a lump in his throat. 'Where is he now?'

'He's gone back to the school,' said Mr. Weasley, as Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes and sat back up. 'Remus took him.'

'How long?' Ron asked. 'How long do Harry and Ginny have to...have to be apart?'

'We don't know,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Ginny needs extensive treatment; she...she can't be around Harry while she's recovering. Harry's...he's devastated, but you know how he is. He's put on a brave face.'

'That doesn't surprise me,' said Ron sadly, and then he scowled. 'This isn't fair. Harry never asked for this. He killed Voldemort, he saved the world and he can't even have a happy ending. I don't deserve a happy ending if he can't have one. It's not bloody fair!' Ron's voice rose with every word, and he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. Mrs. Weasley pulled him into an embrace, and he sank against her, struggling not to cry. Mr. Weasley took his hand.

'It's not fair,' Ron mumbled again.

'I know,' Mrs. Weasley murmured, stroking his hair. 'Harry's had such a hard time...'

'I was scared,' Ron admitted. 'I thought...for a while there I thought Hermione might not come back, but Harry brought her back. He...he fixed things up for us. Even though he must have known he couldn't be with Ginny...'

'Harry wants you to be happy,' said Mrs. Weasley.

'How'm I supposed to be happy if he's going through hell?' said Ron miserably.

'Harry will get through this, son,' said Mr. Weasley. 'He needs time, and he needs his friends.'

'What about Ginny?' said Ron.

'She's...she's going away for the summer,' said Mr. Weasley. 'She's been excused from her exams, and she's going to live with Mrs. Tonks. They have a cottage in Provence, although...you have to keep that yourself, dear. I know you'll want to tell Harry, but Mrs. Tonks worries that he'll try to come after Ginny. Mrs. Tonks thinks the change of scenery, the climate...it'll be good for Ginny. If everything goes well, she'll be able to come back to school for the autumn term.'

Ron nodded, feeling suddenly numb. Only a few minutes ago he'd been happy, back in the arms of Hermione, thinking of his brilliant future. Now...it seemed wrong, all of it. That he, of all people, should walk away with what he wanted most, and Harry and Ginny should be left with nothing but anguish and trauma.

'It's not right,' Ron muttered.

'Ron, the best gift you could give Harry and Ginny is to be happy,' Mrs. Weasley insisted.

Ron looked at his mother, and then his father. He didn't feel much better for it, but he knew, in spite of everything, that his mother was right. At the very least, Ron knew Harry and Ginny didn't need the burden of Ron's guilt on top of everything else they were suffering.

'We're awfully proud of you, son,' said Mr. Weasley, smiling warmly at him. 'And you know, I've been thinking...there's no reason you couldn't find a really good position in the Ministry...being an Auror isn't all it's cracked up to be, Kingsley was just saying--'

'I'm going to be an Auror,' said Ron, and then he brightened as he remembered something. 'Harry and I are going to do it together, in fact. That's it! That'll help him, right? The training is really intense and it'll help keep Harry's mind off...off the really bad stuff. And Harry likes to get physical anyway, when he's feeling low...yeah. It'll be good. Harry and I as Aurors.'

'But, son, what about your eye?' said Mr. Weasley.

Ron beamed; he felt a million times lighter since remembering that Harry was going to join the Auror program, too. It would be just the thing Harry needed, to get past all the bad things. They'd be the best damn trainees in the place; they'd get awards, they'd get promoted, they'd be Potter and Weasley, the Auror Dream Team. It would be perfect.

And Ginny...well, Ginny'd spend a summer in France and come back good as new. His sister was tough; the toughest girl he knew--okay, it was a toss-up with Hermione--but Ginny was a Weasley. Weasleys fought back. Ginny'd come back from France a new girl, a new woman, ready for her last year at Hogwarts. And then Harry and Ginny could be together again, as they were meant to be, as they had to be. Yes!

'Ron?' said Mr. Weasley, and Ron remembered his father had asked him a question.

'Hermione's getting me a new eye,' Ron said.

'What?' said Mrs. Weasley. 'But they're so expensive!'

'I know,' said Ron. 'I mean, you know I'd never take Harry or Hermione's money, but...but this is the only way I can be an Auror now and...and I want to be there with Harry. He'll need me, you know.'

'You'll pay her back, won't you?' said Mr. Weasley sternly.

'Of course!' said Ron defensively. 'It'll take a while, but I will.'

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both smiled at him.

'We love you, Ron,' said Mrs. Weasley, hugging Ron again. 'Goodness, you must be tired.'

'We'll let you get some rest,' said Mr. Weasley, and his parents got up. They smiled at him again, and Ron grinned back. Things were so much better now. Yes, there would be some tough stuff to get through, but as long as Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny had each other, everything would turn out all right in the end.

His parents started towards the door, when suddenly it was flung open, and Fred, Percy and Bill came charging through.

'Boys, what is going on?' said Mrs. Weasley sternly. 'What are you--'

'Mum, keep your hair on,' said Fred. He looked fit to burst. Indeed, all three of Ron's older brothers looked fit to burst.

'What's going on?' said Ron.

'Bring him in, Charlie!' Fred called, grinning hugely.

'Wha--'

Mrs. Weasley's question died away as Charlie came in with George. George was in his dressing gown; his hair was sticking up everywhere. He shuffled in slowly, but his steps were nonetheless sure-footed.

'Boys!' Mrs. Weasley said angrily. 'What on earth are you doing? George isn't supposed to be wandering around like this. I can't believe you'd drag him out of bed all the way down here!'

'Mum, relax,' said Bill. 'We just wanted George to pay Ron a visit. He hasn't been down here yet.'

'I told Ron he could visit with Charlie tomorrow!' said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. 'Really, boys, this isn't--'

'H-hey, Mum.'

Mrs. Weasley stopped speaking and clapped a hand over her mouth. For George had just spoken, and he'd spoken real words. Ron gaped at his older brother.

'Hi, D-dad,' said George haltingly. 'H-how are you d-doing?'

Mrs. Weasley's eyes were huge, and her hand was still over her mouth. Mr. Weasley's Adam's apple bobbed as he gazed at George.

'A-aren't you g-going to s-say anything?' George asked.

'George...' Mr. Weasley whispered, and without another word he grabbed George and crushed him in a fierce embrace. 'Oh...oh, son...'

'D-don't cry, Dad,' George said, grinning, but his eyes were rather misty.

Mr. Weasley let go of George and took a deep breath, composing himself, but at that moment, Mrs. Weasley pounced, smothering her son with a hug and numerous kisses all over his face.

'George!' she shrieked. 'Oh...oh, thank goodness!'

'Mum, g-get a g-grip,' George muttered, but he kept grinning.

'I don't believe it!' Mrs. Weasley cried. 'When did this happen? When did you start talking?'

'A few minutes ago,' said Fred, clapping his twin on the shoulder. 'Once he got going we couldn't shut him up. He insisted we bring him down here to visit ickle Ronnie.'

Ron, who'd been watching the scene in a kind of frozen daze, blinked when he heard his name, or rather, the nickname Fred and George had always teased him with.

'H-hey, l-little bro,' said George, meeting Ron's gaze.

It seemed to Ron, in that moment, that the whole world was upside down. George was okay. George was standing in front of him, talking. Haltingly, yes, but he was talking all the same. Seeing George like this filled Ron with almost unbearable hope: if George could survive what he'd survived, then surely Harry and Ginny would. Yes, they would. Everything really was going to be okay.

And suddenly it became too much for Ron, and the lump that had been in his throat all day rose up again, this time threatening to choke him.

'W-what's wrong w-with everyone?' George complained. 'N-nobody seems t-to be able to t-talk. Hello, Ron? Are you th-there?'

'Hey, George,' said Ron, his eyes burning.

'He speaks!' said George, pumping his fist in the air, and he moved to the foot of Ron's bed, as everyone else laughed. Ron couldn't laugh. He could hardly breathe. He forced himself to speak.

'How are you feeling?' he asked.

George shrugged. 'C-can't complain,' he said, grinning. 'You?'

'Okay,' said Ron thickly.

'G-good,' said George, and his own voice became a bit strangled. ''C-cause you sure l-look like shit.'

The emotion in Ron's throat crested, and he let out a laugh that dissolved into a sob, but George was already there, hugging him. Ron knew the twins would give him hell for it later, but for now, he let himself cry. He didn't bloody well care. His family was alive. His parents, his brothers, Ginny, all of them were alive. Hermione was alive. Harry was alive. Damaged, wounded, but alive. There were some miracles that deserved some happy tears, and this was one of them.

* * *

Harry looked around the storage room numbly. He'd sat there on the floor for a few hours now, hardly moving. The cushions were no longer there, nor were the candles. Ginny wasn't there, tangled up in his arms and naked and smiling up at him. The school was mostly empty at the moment, but for the teachers. 

He'd been back at Hogwarts for a few hours now. Amazingly, everyone he'd seen--even Filch--had left him alone. Perhaps it was something in Harry's eyes, or perhaps it was because they were all afraid of him, the Boy Who'd Killed Voldemort. Whatever the reason, Harry was glad for it; he wanted to be alone right then.

Odd, really, that he wanted solitude, when only a few hours before he'd been crying his eyes out in a loo with the realization that he was, in fact, alone. But now, the solitude was a relief. No questions to answer, no gazes to avert.

Kingsley had brought him back. Harry hadn't said a word; he just let Kingsley talk, and fill Harry in on everything that had happened in the past few days, from the time Harry had left the school until now.

The teachers were all alive. Firenze had been found in the Forest, wounded, but he'd survived, and he'd been welcomed back into his herd. He'd gone, leaving only Trelawney to teach Divination, which quite clearly pleased her. Hopkirk, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector had all suffered minor wounds in the battle, and were healed in a trice. Hagrid--with the help of the Forest beasts--had held off a few more attacks, and he managed to escape serious injury, as did Grawp and Mawg, who were, according to Hagrid, adapting well to their circumstances.

Snape was apparently still in hospital, much to Harry's surprise, but he couldn't really muster up the energy to care too much about that. The school itself hadn't been damaged, and Harry found he didn't actually care about this, either. The students were expected back in a day or so. Dean had been burned by a curse but his injuries were minor, owing to Seamus's fast spellwork. Both boys were with their parents. Neville had suffered a mild concussion and a few stress fractures, but he was fine, spending his time with his grandmother, Luna and her father. Luna, meanwhile, had been hit with a Confundis Curse, and had to spend a few hours in the Spell Damage word getting her brain unscrambled. Harry might have otherwise chuckled about that, wondering whether the Healers might have so unscrambled Luna's brain that she stopped believing in Snorkacks and heliopaths, but at the moment, it was just another thing he didn't care much about.

Kingsley also told Harry of all who had died, some of whom Harry already knew about, others he didn't. Daphne Greengrass was dead. Ernie MacMillan. Padma Patil. Morag McDougal. Kenneth Towler. Pansy Parkinson. Colin Creevey. Terry Boot, who'd seemed fine, but whose leg injury resulted in a massive blood clot that killed him.

Everyone else had suffered injuries ranging from minor to serious; everyone, said Kingsley, would be coming back to Hogwarts to finish out the term. There were still a few weeks left to it, although the students who'd lost family members would be allowed to leave school for their loved ones' funerals, and stay away permanently or return, as they chose. Kingsley left Harry with a pat on the shoulder, and told Harry that he looked forward to training him in the Auror program.

The Auror program...Harry thought about his desk, slightly dusty and stacked high with parchment. Job offers galore: Auror programs, Quidditch teams, teaching posts, including the Defense post at Hogwarts. The letter from the Ministry Auror program was on top; he'd left it there a few days earlier. Before everything had gone so horribly wrong. Before Voldemort's death.

It was just how it was when Sirius had died: everything in Harry's life was now divided by the singular event of Voldemort's death. A death that, Harry knew, people everywhere were celebrating. He hadn't looked at the papers, but Kingsley had told him that the press was 'all over the story', a few of the less than scrupulous journals insinuating that Harry hadn't really killed Voldemort, because there was no body to prove You-Know-Who was dead.

Harry didn't care about that; he'd been very effectively shielded from the press, in terms of not having faced any reporters yet, of not having to answer any questions. Kingsley had told him he'd eventually have to make an official statement to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but that could wait. What was most important, said Kingsley, was that Harry go home--back to Hogwarts--and let his life get back to normal.

Except that life After Voldemort's Death was anything but normal. Harry scowled at the bitter irony of it all: his life had had some meaning, some hope, some level of happiness before he'd killed Voldemort. But now, with Voldemort gone, things were worse.

Not for the first time in the past few hours, Harry contemplated just ending everything. Going up to the Astronomy Tower and leaping off it and putting an end to the hell that was his life. Sure, it was selfish, and yes, he'd be missed, but at least he wouldn't be suffering anymore, right?

That was partly what got under Harry's skin: that he was alive, but suffering, and Voldemort was dead, but not suffering. Harry scowled again to think that he'd given Voldemort a gift, ending his life. Voldemort was probably wherever it was dead people go. He probably wasn't even Voldemort anymore, but Tom Riddle, young and handsome, hanging around with his tragic, beautiful mother and listening to her sing Italian songs.

And yet, as Harry thought about suicide again, he knew he wouldn't do it. Something kept him from taking that step. At the moment, Harry couldn't decide if it was guilt or masochism. Probably both. Even now, wallowing in this dead, numb despair, Harry couldn't bring himself to cause his friends any more pain than he already had, and the pain he'd caused them was a lot. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but feel that only a masochist would go on living, faced with what he would be facing in the near and distant future.

He thought of his desk again, of the stack of letters. Even as he had returned from St. Mungo's, had exited the fireplace in the Great Hall and started back towards Gryffindor tower, Harry knew he could never be an Auror now. A life of fighting dark wizards was something he could no longer stomach thinking about. He'd just beaten the most powerful dark wizard in the world. He was tired of fighting, tired of death.

It was seeing Ron and Hermione together at the hospital, however, that had really sealed Harry's choice. He hardly knew if he could even bear to look at either of them anymore, knowing that what they had was still intact, knowing, even worse, that he had been the one to make sure they stayed together. How could he spend every day with Ron knowing that Ron had Hermione, when Harry had lost Ginny? How could he look at Ron without seeing him lying dead on the floor of the brain room--for Ron had indeed been dead for a few minutes--with Hermione desperately trying to start his heart again? Ron and Hermione, Harry realized, were a reminder of that night with Voldemort. They were a reminder that their bond had been shaken, but not broken, by the war. They were, and would be, a reminder of what Harry had lost: his relationship with Ginny.

_Ginny..._

Harry let himself think of her now; he'd been thinking freely of her for the past hour or so, from the moment he realized that thinking of her no longer brought that small sizzle of empathetic pain in his body. That must mean she was far away now, that she was already wherever she'd gone with Mrs. Tonks. Harry, of course, wouldn't be told. The Weasleys would know, but they'd never tell him. He might normally be angry that they'd keep something this important from him, but now, he was too tired to be angry. There was only this numb emptiness inside him, an emptiness that he knew nothing could fill. Nothing except Ginny, but she was lost to him, she might be lost to him forever.

This, then, was his life: one long catalogue of losses, starting with the day his parents had been murdered. But he thought he'd learned to live with those losses. They still hurt--they always would--but he'd accepted that, hadn't he? Surely, in time he could learn to accept losing Ginny, couldn't he?

Could he accept losing a piece of his soul?

For Ginny had taken a piece of his soul with her, from the moment they crossed over that line of friendship. He'd given everything to her, he'd turned himself inside out, and she had done the same for him, and there was no getting over that. There was no accepting it, learning from it, and moving on. Ginny had been taken from him a third time, and this time, there was no getting her back, and there was no retrieving that part of him that she owned. He knew, even as he sat there, at the young age of seventeen, that he'd never be as close to anyone as he'd been to Ginny. He'd cried over it a few hours ago, but now he was beyond tears, and there was only a void inside him. He wondered if this was how it felt to be Kissed by a Dementor.

He closed his eyes, and opened them again, looking around the room. He'd come here thinking, hoping, that he could feel her presence here, in this room where they'd made love, more than once, where they'd shared something Harry knew he'd never share with anyone else. Her presence was gone. She was gone. And yet he knew he would come here every day until it was time for him to put his decision into action.

He didn't need to wonder how Ron and Hermione would react to that decision. He wasn't half-sure he'd even bother telling them. He fingered the small note card Mrs. Tonks had given him. He'd memorized the information on it:

_Mme Jeanne-Marie Verlaine_

_82 Rue de Carouge_

_Genève-Plainpalais_

_SUISSE_

But that wasn't for now. There was nothing for now. There was just sitting here, in the empty room, with his empty, numb heart.

* * *

The students returned in full the next day. Harry had spent half the night awake, preparing himself, but the impact of the school filling up so quickly nonetheless unnerved him, and filled him with the urge to run and hide. To disappear into the storeroom and never come out again. 

But reality sank its claws into him and he found himself greeting his housemates as they returned, accepting their congratulations with gritted teeth and feigned smiles. Dean looked just fine, Seamus looked just fine, Neville looked just fine. Parvati looked haunted and sad, and Lavender spent much of the day with her arm around her friend's shoulder as Parvati struggled not to cry. Harry kept his distance from all of them, and to their credit, they seemed content to leave him alone after a while.

Draco Malfoy didn't come back. News of Pansy Parkinson's death--her real death--had already reached _The Daily Prophet_, which Harry read with no real interest. Pansy's parents turned out to have been murdered, too, by Lucius Malfoy, right around the time Malfoy had the Muggle prostitute killed. The reasoning was obvious: the Parkinsons would have known, even if the Muggle girl was disguised with Polyjuice Potion, that she was not their daughter. Malfoy couldn't afford to risk the two of them reporting their beliefs to the Ministry, not if Malfoy's plan—and Pansy's role in it—was to succeed. Lucius Malfoy was still at large, rumored to be hiding out somewhere in Russia with Helene Rosier.

Draco, meanwhile, checked himself out of St. Mungo's only the day before, but by all accounts, he had effectively disappeared. Seamus was convinced Draco was out for revenge against his father. Harry could care less about the Malfoy family, except to hate them. He couldn't really get over the fact that Ginny was in the mess she was in at least in some small part because she'd agreed to help Draco with his emotional problems.

Ron and Hermione showed up just before lunchtime. Ron was on his feet and looked impossibly well, considering his injuries. He still wore the patch over his eye, but he reported excitedly that Hermione had spoken with Healer Smethwyck, and that he'd ordered for Ron the latest, top-of-the-line magical eye. It would arrive in four weeks, just after they finished school, and Ron would go back to the hospital for the procedure to replace his damaged eye.

'I guess I'm going to look a bit like Moody after all,' he joked. Harry pretended to laugh.

He also pretended to listen as Ron talked about their plans together, to go to the Auror program, to get a flat together. Harry nodded and said all the right things, even as the guilt gnawed at his heart that he would be dashing Ron's hopes of their glorious Auror partnership to dust in the near future.

Later on, Harry and Ron took a fly on their brooms, and after that, they sat under the beech tree, at which time Ron very tentatively brought up Ginny. Harry gritted his teeth again and listened to Ron outline a bright and optimistic future for his sister and his best friend.

'Ginny's tough,' he said. 'You'll see, she'll get through this whole thing and you two can be together again. I know it.'

'You're right, Ron,' said Harry, and for a second, he allowed himself to believe it, but then Ron and Hermione smiled at each other--the soft smiles of lovers--and Harry wished he had a fork so he could stab himself in the thigh with it.

That night, Ron retired early, as did Hermione, and this gave Harry nothing but relief. He found himself wishing that lessons would just start up already, if only to keep him busy. He waited until his dorm-mates were in bed, and then he crept out of the room, covered by the Invisibility Cloak, carrying the Marauder's Map.

Fifteen minutes later, he was in the storeroom. He Conjured some cushions and candles for himself, lay back on the cushions, and stared at the flickering shadows on the walls. If he closed his eyes just enough, he could pretend the golden glow from the candles were the golden glints in Ginny's hair. He didn't go back to the dormitory that night.

* * *

Next day lessons began, and the teachers picked up right where they'd left off. Indeed, Harry could almost fool himself, for a while, that none of the events of the last few days had happened. He could pretend that the empty chairs in his classes--chairs once occupied by students who were now dead--were in fact occupied. Harry even took comfort in Potions lessons. Snape was back, limping on a bad leg. The injury ensured that Snape was nastier than ever, but Harry didn't mind this, for a change. It let him believe things were normal. 

At day's end, however, Harry was brutally reminded of what had happened over the past few days, when McGonagall announced a memorial service for everyone who had died, to be held that night at midnight, and to include a candlelight vigil. Harry wanted nothing to do with this; he didn't think he could stand being outside, listening to the quiet sobs of girls and hearing speeches, he didn't think his eyes could take looking at candles that weren't in that storeroom, that were lit for the dead. But of course, he had to go. The students who'd died wouldn't have died if they hadn't gone with Harry to the Ministry in the first place. It was only fitting that Harry showed up.

Naturally, Harry had to say a few words. Naturally, he had no clue what to say. He stumbled his way through a fast, impromptu oratory on the bravery and honor of his classmates, who'd given their lives to stop a terrible evil. It was only afterwards that Harry realized he'd actually been somewhat eloquent, but he didn't care about that.

He was losing track of the things he no longer cared about. They all seemed to fade behind the image of a freckled, red-haired, brown-eyed girl.

* * *

Ron tried to tell himself nothing was seriously wrong. Nothing that couldn't be mended with time, and space, and his own efforts to make things better. 

The nagging doubts in the back of his mind he rigorously silenced every time they raised their voice to him. Yes, Harry was basically a mess, but Harry had been a mess before, Ron told himself. Many times before, in fact. He'd been a mess after Cedric was murdered; after losing Sirius; after losing Dumbledore. Harry was accustomed to loss.

Losing Ginny was no different, Ron thought. In fact, it really wasn't as bad as all that, because it wasn't as if the loss was permanent. Ginny was very much alive. She wasn't exactly whole at the moment, that was certain, but she was alive. That fact alone, Ron reasoned, was enough for Harry to eventually drag himself out of his funk. Ron reasoned further that if Harry got encouraging news about Ginny's progress, Harry himself would feel better. As such, Ron took to demanding daily updates from his parents about Ginny. The reports were frustratingly vague, but after a week, their mother was relieved to report that Ginny was finally out of her shock, and had begun to talk to Mrs. Tonks.

'So, that's good news,' said Ron bracingly, as they ate lunch under the beech tree one glorious afternoon in June. 'It's only the very early stages, but that means she's already on her way back.'

Harry nodded and smiled. 'That is good news,' he said, his voice wistful, his eyes distant.

Once again, Ron squashed the voice of doubt, and glanced quickly at Hermione, who was watching Harry with interest, but otherwise saying nothing. Ron had insisted on a particular approach for helping Harry--offer their support, but don't push; say at least one encouraging thing about Ginny every day, but don't push; let Harry have room to grieve and cope, and never, ever push.

Hermione agreed with Ron on this, or at least, she seemed to, but then, Hermione was acting a bit odd herself lately. At first Ron was terrified to think that perhaps she'd changed her mind, and decided that she couldn't be with him unless he gave up his goal of being an Auror. But after a few days, Ron realized it came down to something else: her leg injury.

He supposed he ought to have seen it sooner, but in truth, he was so glad to be back at school, so relieved that the people he loved were alive, relieved, even, that N.E.W.Ts were going to occur as scheduled. At the very least, Hogwarts meant normalcy, as did end-of-term exams. Ron threw himself right back into the swing of things as much as he could, with Head Boy duties and revising and patrolling and even helping set up new wards; he was so busy that he didn't really allow himself time to think about things for the first few days he was back.

It was only on the fourth night, as Hermione crawled into bed next to him, that Ron sensed something. They hadn't done more than kiss a few times since coming back; both had been swamped with helping to get the school re-organized, helping the teachers and organizing study groups and the like, and the heavy load left them both exhausted at the end of each day. Ron--against the suggestions of McGonagall and Hermione--didn't allow himself to slack off, either. He had wanted nothing more than to leave Hogwarts for the last time with some semblance of order and harmony restored. He was tired and his muscles still ached from the aftermath of his many injuries, and the wound across his belly--while fully healed--still tingled from time to time--but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Indeed, the only compromise he decided to make was to forego meditating for a while. The energy he expended meditating he instead channeled into revising for exams and finishing out his lessons.

As such, Ron and Hermione had had almost no time to be alone together, except at night, when both were typically too tired except snuggle and fall asleep. On this particular night, however, they started kissing, and it began to lead to other things, the removal of some clothing, when suddenly Hermione stopped and insisted he turn out all the lights. Ron hesitated, but then complied; he wasn't going to argue a point if it meant making love with his girlfriend. But then, as things progressed further, Hermione kept tensing every time his hands would wander to her thighs, or more specifically, her left thigh.

'It's still hurting somewhat,' she said.

'We don't have to,' he said.

'It's okay,' she said. 'Just...try not to touch it.'

Ron had no idea how he was supposed to make love with Hermione without touching her thigh in some way, but he agreed, and against his own will he kept his hands from touching her there, from giving into his usual urge to grip her thighs when she wrapped them about his waist.

It was only afterwards, when Hermione quickly got up from the bed and even more quickly pulled her pyjamas back on, that Ron realized what the problem was: Hermione didn't want him to see her leg injury. Vaguely he remembered how her skin had felt against his, and he realized that the skin of her left leg against his waist had felt very different, like scar tissue. He knew she'd been burned there, but he hadn't known how badly.

Now, Hermione seemed determined not to let him see her injury at all. Ron didn't push the issue; he figured in time she'd get over it. As it was, he was just happy as hell to be alive and making love with his girlfriend at all. And of course, there was Harry to consider...

* * *

Harry knew Ron suspected something. Ron knew him too well; Harry couldn't totally hide what he was feeling. But he tried very, very hard all the same. He needed to reassure Ron and Hermione that he would be all right. Even if a part of him questioned whether he ever would be. 

The past few days had gotten a bit easier. He'd given his statement to the Ministry, regarding Voldemort's death and his role in it, but as expected, there was no inquiry. Nobody was about to start a legal proceeding against the Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who, even if it were the usual pro forma in the wake of a death deemed to be self-defense. Harry agreed to release his official statement to the press, if only to avoid giving interviews. The reporters, meanwhile, had been as barred from entering the Hogwarts' grounds as they'd been the hospital, and this, perhaps, was the one saving grace of the school for Harry at the moment: he could, at the very least, hide from the rest of the world, even if he couldn't hide from his own pain.

The news stories themselves were as sensationalistic as could be expected. Rita Skeeter's byline was nowhere to be seen--she was still in St. Mungo's, recovering--but a new 'journalist' had clearly filled her shoes, and it was none other than Marietta Edgecombe, a former Ravenclaw; her photograph showed that she had been quite beautifully cured of Hermione's nasty hex. Marietta's tone in her articles was as snide about Harry as possible, and of course, she made no mention of the brave manner in which Ron and Hermione had fought. Ron's life-saving sacrifice, in fact, was entirely left out, though she did bring up Ron and Hermione's 'little fling', as she called it, 'which probably won't last long, as the wizarding world is fully aware of Miss Granger's penchant for breaking young men's hearts. This paper can't help but think Miss Granger is perhaps slumming a bit, seeking the attentions of Ron Weasley when it has been obvious in the past that her interests lie with far more famous, and far wealthier bachelors.'

Ron offered to hex Marietta again, and spent a few days intercepting some more hate mail directed at Hermione, but everyone laughed it off, and Hermione freely admitted Marietta ought to have her pound of flesh after suffering Hermione's acne hex for so long.

He kept to himself as much as he could, and he put on his stoic face, but Ron's and Hagrid's heroic efforts to cheer him up were such that Harry couldn't help but go along. Indeed, Harry's heart lightened slightly, but then he would remember Ginny, and remember what he was contemplating, and his heart would feel heavy again.

Frequently, he caught himself staring at the card for Mme Verlaine. She would have received Harry's owl by now--nobody was faster than Hedwig--telling her to expect him on the first of August. He didn't want to go to her right away. He needed to get away--completely away--from anyone and everyone he knew, and see if there was any way to get past his nightmares, see if there was any way he could hold onto the small vestige of hope that Mrs. Tonks had told him not to abandon.

That he had any hope at all seemed incredible to Harry, but impossibly, it was Ron who had given it to him; Ron who told Harry some news of Ginny every single day. Harry knew Ron was probably exaggerating things, but he appreciated the effort. It was difficult, with Ron's almost fierce delivery of this news, not to get caught up in a brief flash of optimism.

Yet the hope seemed so tiny and insignificant compared to the grief. He hated that his friends could not help him, and he hated himself even more for what he'd be doing to them, but it just could not be remedied. The longer Harry spent inside Hogwarts, the more time he spent in the company of his classmates, the more alien and alone he felt.

The dreams didn't help. They weren't bad dreams. On the contrary, they were good dreams. All of them so good, he never wanted to open his eyes. So vivid and real that when Harry inevitably did open his eyes, to find himself in the empty storeroom--where he'd spent every night since his return--the despair of the waking world hit him like a punch to the stomach.

Every night, Harry saw Ginny in his dreams. She was beautiful and whole and smiling, and she held his hand and kissed his mouth and whispered things in his ear. Sometimes they argued, but that was good, too, because she was there, with him, challenging him and getting inside him. He dreamed of their life together, in some distant future, in some unnamed place, with unnamed children. It was never perfect, but it was always real. Until his eyes fluttered open with the light of the sun, and the true reality came crashing down on him like a lead weight.

He had come so close to tasting that future, but Voldemort had snatched it away, was snatching it away even in death. The raw numbness of the first few days back at school were gone, and now there was this constant shifting, between total despair and irrational hopefulness. It was as if Harry's emotions were on some kind of sick carnival ride that shot to the heavens at the speed of light, only to plummet to earth just as fast. At the top of this ride was Ginny, at the bottom, Voldemort, but in between, there seemed to be nothing. In between but near the top, it _should_ have been Hogwarts, and the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks, Hagrid, McGonagall, Ron and Hermione, even Sirius, Dumbledore and his parents, though perhaps they were closer to the middle, given that they were dead. But nobody else was there. It was only Ginny and Voldemort; one who held the final key to his completion, who put him back together again, and the other who had been taking him apart, piece by piece, since he was just a year old. The two of them were inside Harry, fighting over his soul and his mind and his heart, and the longer he stayed at Hogwarts, surrounded by everything that reminded him of Voldemort, the more Harry feared he might go mad.

It wasn't Ron and Hermione's fault. That was what hurt Harry most of all, knowing what he was going to do. Both of them had never been anything but the best of friends to him; they'd sacrificed so much for him, and he was ashamed to look back and realize all those times he'd taken them for granted. But they couldn't help him now, not with this. Not even Ginny could help him. She was somewhere else--not even Ron had been forthcoming with her whereabouts.

No, it seemed the only person who could help Harry was a stranger in a city he'd never visited. What would it be like, living in Geneva? He'd heard Hermione mention it a few times, that it was a beautiful city on a beautiful lake with beautiful mountains in the distance. He wasn't sure he wanted to be surrounded by all that beauty--beauty seemed empty without Ginny in it--but that was where Mme Verlaine happened to be, and he would go where she was. Because his dreams were killing him. Because he wanted them to come true. Because he was past wallowing in numbness now, he was tired of just _existing_, of being caught between numbness and nothingness and wishing he could just kill himself, but not having the bollocks to actually do it. Because he was tired of being caught between guilt at having killed Voldemort, and rage at having shown him the mercy of death. If Harry didn't have the bollocks to kill himself, then he was going to _live._

I'm not going to lose Ginny. I'm not going to lose me. Not when Mum and Dad, and Sirius, and Dumbledore, and Ron...

_Ron._

Harry sighed. Ron would never understand. He'd be so hurt. He'd take it as a personal failing. He'd be angry. In such an instance, Hermione would be the one to truly understand. Harry could count on her to understand. She'd be hurt, too, but she'd let it go. Maybe, Harry thought, she could convince Ron not to hate Harry, or to hate himself.

* * *

'Does it hurt?' 

'No, I just...'

'Hermione, what's wrong?'

She sniffed, and in the pitch dark of his room, he knew she'd begun to cry softly.

'Tell me,' Ron urged.

'It's just so horrible,' she whispered. 'I hate looking at it.'

'Hermione, it's just a scar,' said Ron. 'I've got plenty, Harry's got some. Hell, I've got to get a new eye and I'll probably look really freaky with it.'

'It's not just a scar...'

'Hermione, I'm not going to love any less for having a messed up leg.'

'I know...I just...I'll let you look at it, okay?,' said Hermione. 'Just not...right now. Maybe in a few days. I've been meaning to ask Madam Pomfrey if she can do something about the scarring.'

She snuggled up to him, and he felt the cotton of her pyjama bottoms brush against the skin of his knees. He held her close and felt her drift off, realizing once again he'd forgotten to tell her about the baby. He'd have to remember to do that this weekend, after the exams started.

* * *

N.E.W.Ts made O.W.Ls look like an easy pop quiz. They were longer, more comprehensive, and overall, just more brutal. After only one--Charms--Ron was certain his brain was splitting in two. 

Indeed, the only student who seemed to emerge from the Charms N.E.W.Ts without looking like he'd been run over by a speeding train was Harry. Even Hermione looked a bit haggard for it, but Harry seemed almost refreshed, and there was an energy to the way he walked.

'What's with you?' said Ron, not sure if Harry's determination was a good sign or not.

'Just glad to get things over with,' said Harry. 'They build it up to be this huge thing but really, it's not so bad.'

Ron was about to make a sarcastic comment, but then decided against it.

_He just killed Voldemort a few weeks ago. Exams are nothing!_

Harry had the same alertness through the rest of the exams, and it was only when they were over that Ron noticed that Harry seemed to revert to his quieter routine, and the sadness in his eyes that had temporarily been absent during N.E.W.Ts was back.

'I guess now exams are over, he's got more time to brood,' Ron mused to Hermione, on the last Sunday of their final term at Hogwarts.

'That sounds logical to me,' said Hermione, as she scanned the contents of her acceptance letter as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. 'Have you heard any news about Ginny today?'

'Nothing much,' said Ron. 'Just that's she's working with Mrs. Tonks on a daily basis, but no breakthroughs or anything.'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'Do you think they're going to be okay?' she said at last. 'Harry and Ginny, I mean? Not just...individually but...together?'

'They have to be,' said Ron fervently.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'They have to be.'

* * *

Harry gazed around the dorm room. He hadn't spent a night in here since he'd gotten back from hospital. It seemed an alien place now; he could hardly believe he'd lived here for seven years. His bed was neatly made. His Firebolt leaned up against his desk, upon which were stacked his school books and his many notes for his exams. Hedwig was in her cage and Fawkes on his perch; Fawkes sang quietly to himself, but both birds were watching him. They knew something was happening. 

It was the dinner hour, and everyone was in the Great Hall. The overall mood of the school had been quite somber, with students grieving over dead friends. Dennis Creevey and Parvati Patil had been granted leave to go home right after exams--both had insisted on taking them, most likely as a means to delay having to face the inevitable. Harry himself was about to face his inevitable, but as he looked at his enlarged schoolbag on his bed, which contained just enough clothes and money to get him to Switzerland, he felt slightly sick to his stomach.

_Coward._

The word was unspoken and yet it rang in his ears. He was being a bloody coward. He was running away.

The letters were all written and slipped under the appropriate doors or sent to the appropriate residence. Lupin, Hagrid, McGonagall, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys. The letters were all as personal as he could have made them, as apologetic, as pleading. Now there was nothing for him to do but see this through.

Of course, he'd have to leave a lot behind. Such as Hedwig and Fawkes. It was so presumptuous of him, really, to assume that Ron and Hermione would take care of his pets, but there was no way he could bring the birds with him: he didn't have the capacity at the moment to take care of anyone's needs but his own.

_Selfish. _

That was another word that hummed in his head, and yet the selfishness was unavoidable. He only hoped that in time, everyone would understand.

He'd told no one where he would be going; he didn't want anyone to come looking for him. He only said that he was going to the Continent. He had no plans to write, either. Not for a while. He just hoped nobody would hate him too much for that, for leaving them in the dark. Maybe they'd stop caring altogether, although he hoped not.

He'd written nothing to Ginny. It was far too soon for her to hear from him anyway, and in any case, what could he write to her that she didn't already know? Now that the time had come for Harry to go, he had accepted that he and Ginny were divided, that they would have to stay divided, until such time--if any--they could find their way back to each other. The thing that had brought him closer to anyone in his life was the thing that must stand between them now, like a wall, and only time and effort and pain and hope would bring it down.

Harry swallowed against the dryness in his throat, and checked his bedside clock. The dinner hour would end soon. Ron and Hermione would come looking for him. He had to go now.

He did a final quick check on the room, and removed his robes. Underneath he wore jeans, trainers and a jumper and t-shirt, and in the pocket of his jeans was the wand he'd borrowed from the school. The wand was too small for him, the grip was all wrong; he'd managed to do well on his exams with it all the same, but he knew he'd need a new wand as soon as possible. He only hoped he wouldn't get in too much trouble for stealing this one.

He shrank his Firebolt and shoved it into his schoolbag. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and realized he'd lost a bit of weight, which he could ill afford, considering how wiry he'd always been. His eyes looked a bit too large for his face, and there was his scar, which was smooth and white and didn't sting at all anymore. He'd have to worry about the Glamour Spells later, though. For now, he was in a hurry.

He'd left the Marauders' Map with Ron's letter, hoping that might ease his leaving just a bit, but he kept the Invisibility Cloak--it was too useful for him to leave behind, and in any case, it had belonged to his father.

Harry pulled on a jacket and pulled his schoolbag onto his shoulders; Hedwig hooted dolefully and Fawkes chirruped.

He looked back at them, and felt a sudden lump in his throat. He hadn't cried in a few weeks; he couldn't believe that looking at his pets had suddenly brought back that terrible burning in his eyes and throat.

'Sorry, guys,' he whispered. 'I...I'll see you some time.'

Hedwig gave him a reproachful chirp.

'Don't hate me, please,' said Harry. She hooted again and flew to him, landing heavily on his arm; she nipped his ear affectionately, to show him she understood, and flew back to her perch, as Fawkes began to sing again. Harry gazed at Fawkes for a moment, and felt his heart lighten slightly. Somewhere in the reaches of his ravaged soul, there was a glimmer of hope, and Fawkes's song fed it.

'I'll miss you,' said Harry, and before he really did start crying again, he flung the Cloak over himself, and left the room.

* * *

He flew on his Firebolt to Hogsmeade, which was crowded and bustling. There was a feeling of celebration in the air: Voldemort was finally gone, the wizarding world was free. Flying had been risky, but it was his only option. He'd had to fly carefully, and slowly, weaving through the trees, to avoid being seen. It had taken him nearly an hour just to get here without being spotted. 

Harry moved quickly up the High Street, his hood pulled over his had, until he found a familiar hideaway. His heart gave a twinge as he remembered kissing Susan for the first time here. He wondered what it might have been like if she had stayed his girlfriend. He would have been happy, he supposed. Content. He might have even gone on to be an Auror. Maybe he and Susan would have had children someday. But she'd taken that decision out of his hands, and though logically she'd played no part in it, it was Susan's decision that had propelled Harry towards Ginny, and a relationship that from the beginning had been harder, more arduous, and yet, in the end, more powerful, more worth it. Harry realized he hadn't fought for Susan; maybe there was some part of him that knew it wasn't meant to be for them. But he was fighting for Ginny now. By fighting for himself, he was fighting for Ginny.

Harry pulled the Cloak off himself and lowered his heavy bag from his aching shoulders, and removed the wand from his jacket pocket. He wasn't looking forward to this part: Glamour Charms were painful, and he didn't have a mirror on him. He might wind up making himself look disfigured. But he couldn't very well go about as himself.

He raised the wand and pointed it to his face, and opened his mouth to say the incantation...

'Hello, Harry.'

Harry nearly leapt out of his skin. 'Bleeding Christ!' he croaked, jumping back, face to face with Griselda Hopkirk. 'You scared me half to death.'

'Sorry,' said Hopkirk, smiling enigmatically at him. 'So...you're slipping away, are you?'

Harry bristled, but he didn't answer. It wasn't as if she was wrong.

'I won't tell anyone I saw you,' she said.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, a bit rudely.

She seemed unfazed. 'Following you,' she said, 'and choosing my own escape route.'

'What?'

'Oh, come, Harry, you didn't expect me to stick around,' she said. 'Don't you remember McGonagall offering you my job?'

'I forgot all about that,' he admitted. 'I--'

'You were preoccupied,' said Hopkirk. 'Somehow that's not surprising. Anyway, I didn't expect to stay beyond a year. I was hired to help you, and I've done that, to the best of my ability. Therefore my work, as they say, is done.'

Harry swallowed again; he felt suddenly uncomfortable. He realized he was alone, in a dark space, with a succubus. Although Hopkirk had maintained control of herself with him at all times--barring the one instance of her letting him see her in her demonic form--Harry couldn't help but wonder if she'd sought him out for another, far more sinister reason.

'I'm not going to rape you and steal your soul, you know,' she said, smiling again.

'I know you're not,' Harry said quickly. He cast about desperately for a change of subject. 'Er...so...what will you do?'

'Go away,' said Hopkirk. 'Disappear...like you.'

'How do you know--'

'I've been watching you, Harry,' said Hopkirk. 'You've been dying to get away since the day you got back. For what it's worth, I don't blame you. I know how it feels to want to run.'

'I'm not running away,' Harry said defensively. 'I'm...I'm running towards something, okay?'

'I know,' said Hopkirk. 'I envy you that. Running towards something.'

She looked away, and Harry caught the sadness in her pale blue eyes.

'The connection between two human beings in love is powerful,' she said. 'Whether that love is filial, platonic, romantic...it is the thing that makes life worth living. Everyone wants that connection, even if they tell themselves they don't, even if they run from it. Especially if they can never have it.'

Harry pursed his lips, and a wave of pity came over him.

'You...you had that,' he said hesitantly. 'With my mum. A connection, I mean. You were friends.'

Hopkirk smiled sadly. 'Yes, we were. In our way.'

'Where will you go?' Harry asked.

'East,' she said. 'You?'

'Er...the Continent,' said Harry.

'I take it Ron and Hermione don't know,' said Hopkirk. Harry flushed.

'I left them notes,' he said.

'They'll understand eventually,' she said, letting her gaze wander, but suddenly she hissed, 'Severus.'

Harry froze for an instant and saw the dark form of Severus Snape limping up the High Street. Wasting no time, Harry ducked into some nearby trees and flung the Invisibility Cloak, which he'd stuffed into his jacked, over himself.

'Griselda?'

Snape's oily voice pierced the sultry night air, and he limped over to Hopkirk.

'Severus,' she said. 'Out for an evening constitutional, or are you seeking libations?'

Snape sneered at her. 'I'm looking for Potter, if you must know,' he said irritably. 'He seems to have done a disappearing act and naturally the school is frantic to find him.'

'He's done a runner, you say?' said Hopkirk.

'Yes, yes,' said Snape. 'Left a bunch of notes for his friends. They're all terribly upset. Minerva is ready to call in a Ministry search party. The stupid brat probably just went for a stroll around the lake, but as usual, everything must grind to a halt when Famous Harry Potter's in trouble.'

'Well, Severus, I think you can call off the search,' said Hopkirk.

'Oh, can I?'

'Yes, you see, I saw Potter only a few minutes ago,' said Hopkirk.

Harry nearly toppled over.

_What is she doing? She can't give me away!_

'Did you?' said Snape, through gritted teeth.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'He was in an awful hurry. Said he had to get to the Continent and he Apparated off before I could dissuade him. He looked agitated, but he was otherwise fine. Said he was going to solve a problem he had, and told me that nobody should worry about him. He didn't elaborate on where he was going, I'm afraid, but he was almost certainly in his own right mind.'

'How comforting,' said Snape dryly. 'I suppose I should thank you for sparing me the agony of an all-night search. Perhaps you'd like to come back to the school with me and share the glorious news that Potter hasn't been abducted or murdered or has wandered off in a mad or drunken daze?'

'That sounds awfully tempting, Severus,' said Hopkirk, 'but perhaps it makes more sense for me to stand watch around here for a while. I don't mind, really.'

'I'll tell Minerva,' said Snape, and he turned on his heel, but stumbled. Hopkirk was there to catch him. He huffed impatiently and brushed her off.

'I'm quite fine, thank you,' he said, but Harry noticed a grimace of pain on the Potions Master's face.

'You know, Severus, if you need something a little stronger,' said Hopkirk, her tone now, if not friendly so much as helpful, 'I have just the thing for the pain.'

'No, thank you,' said Snape coldly. 'I'm sure it'll go away in time.'

'Suit yourself,' said Hopkirk coolly. 'I'll see you back at the castle shortly.'

Snape gave her a brisk nod and limped off, his bad leg stumping heavily on the soft ground.

'You can come out now, Harry,' said Hopkirk, and Harry slid from behind the trees, pulling back his Cloak.

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'For not giving me up, I mean.'

'You have important things to do, Harry,' said Hopkirk. 'Things that nobody should interfere with, and if I know the people who care about you at all, they might be tempted to interfere with what you're doing.'

'Is Snape okay?' Harry asked.

'Professor Snape,' said Hopkirk, 'and no he's not, but like most stubborn men he covers up his pain. He's wrong, though. Phantom pain never really goes away.'

'Phantom pain?' said Harry. 'What's that?'

'A rather unusual and ironic thing,' said Hopkirk. 'It's when an amputee feels pain in the limb that's no longer there.'

'What?' Harry asked, his eyes widening.

'Severus had his leg amputated below the knee, the morning after the battle in the Ministry,' said Hopkirk.

'He didn't say anything,' said Harry, amazed. 'I thought he just had a bad limp, that he was walking on...does he have a fake leg?'

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'He hasn't told too many people because the idea of anyone feeling sorry for him is appalling to him.'

'He was limping when...when he came in and gave Ron those potions,' said Harry. 'I remember.'

'Yes, his leg became infected, quite badly,' said Hopkirk. 'He might have been able to save it, but he gave all his potions to Ron.'

Harry's jaw dropped; for a moment he couldn't speak.

'Are you serious?' he finally managed. 'Snape...knew those potions could have saved his leg but he gave them to Ron? Why?'

'Your guess is as good as mine,' said Hopkirk. 'If you think I'm odd, I'm nothing compared to Severus Snape.'

Harry laughed shortly, but then realized he had to leave. 'I really need to get going.'

'Yes, you do,' said Hopkirk. 'I'll head back to the castle and make sure they don't send out an army to look for you.'

'Thanks,' said Harry. She turned to walk away, when Harry realized something. He knew it was pointless to ask, but he wanted to hear her say it, anyway.

'Professor,' he said.

'I'm not your professor anymore,' she said. 'I'm Griselda.'

'Griselda,' Harry said slowly. 'Will I see you again?'

She gave him a look, and the look itself could have told him the answer, but her lips formed the word.

'No.'

Harry nodded. He felt oddly sad; it wasn't that he wanted to see her again, not really. She was, well, a bit frightening and very odd, and she left him feeling very uncomfortable. And yet she was a major reason he was even standing there at all. She started off again, and he called her again.

'Yes?' she said.

'Thanks,' said Harry. 'For everything. For coming back and helping me.'

'Anything for Lily's son,' said Hopkirk.

'Will you...' Harry broke off; he knew he had to say it, knew he should even run back to the school and say it to his face.

'What?' said Hopkirk.

'Will you tell Snape--Professor Snape--I said thanks?' said Harry. 'For saving Ron, I mean?'

'I will,' said Hopkirk. 'I'm sure he'll accept your gratitude with the usual grace and courtesy.'

Harry laughed again, and Hopkirk backed away, fading into the darkness.

'Good luck, Harry Potter,' she said. 'I'll never forget you.' A flash of brilliant strawberry hair, of sad, pale blue eyes, and she was gone.

Harry stared after her for a moment before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

'I'm sorry, Ron, Hermione,' he whispered. He pointed the borrowed wand at himself and muttered a few spells, grimacing and grunting as the effects of the Glamours overtook his features. When it was over, his hands flew to his face; everything felt normal, or at least, as normal as could be expected. He felt his forehead; it was smooth, and he knew it had no scar on it. He pulled a strand of hair from his scalp and checked it under wand-light: non-descript light brown. His eyes should be the same color, and his nose a bit longer, his face a bit broader, his build a bit stockier. Yes. The disguise would work well enough to get him out of England.

He picked up his bag and stuffed his Cloak and wand into his jacket again, realizing that it was just a bit tight across the back. He heard the laughter coming from the Three Broomsticks, which was a quarter mile away. He saw the flickering lights of the inns and the shops, which were open in celebration of Voldemort's defeat. Harry stepped out of the trees and saw a pair of middle-aged wizards staggering drunkenly down the High Street, singing at the top of their lungs. Children were skipping rope nearby. Music was streaming from the Three Broomsticks and a family was looking in the window of Honeydukes, the children begging their parents to buy them some sweets.

Harry felt his throat close. He had grown to love this village. He looked down the High Street, and his throat bobbed as he looked at the splendor of Hogwarts castle, the place he'd called home for so long. It wasn't his home anymore, but maybe it could be again, someday. Maybe...

He heard one of the children giggle with glee, and saw the family go into Honeydukes, and he smiled through a thin film of tears. It was good, seeing people celebrate. He had given them that, and it was something. In spite of everything he'd suffered, there was that.

Harry glanced at Hogwarts one last time, and then walked slowly up the High Street and out past the village. He vanished into the trees beyond, and with a soft pop, he Disapparated.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks as always to lina, and to Buckbeaky as well.**


	55. Chapter Fifty Five: Beginning

_Chapter Fifty-Five: Beginning_

Ron didn't know where he was going. He just had to run somewhere. Out. Going out seemed like a good idea. Maybe if he went out, he could let his feelings out, too. Yes.

He burst outside and his feet carried him to the Forest, but once at its edge, he seemed to realize where he was.

Ron gritted his teeth and groaned. He wanted to keep running. He realized suddenly that he should have grabbed his broom. Then he could have kept going. He could have chased Harry down and knocked some sense into his stupid scarred head.

_He's gone...Harry's gone...he left...he didn't even say good-bye..._

_A note. A bloody NOTE!_

That was what Harry deigned to leave Ron with: a note, announcing his departure, imploring Ron to understand and to please not hate him for doing this, it wasn't Ron's fault, Harry had to get away, he needed help and there was some Empath lady--not Mrs. Tonks--who could help him.

That had been four hours ago. When Ron had returned from the feast, he went to seek out Harry, and was surprised to find that he wasn't in the dorm room where he'd said he'd be. But Hedwig and Fawkes were both there--looking a bit sad, maybe, but there--so Ron didn't think anything of it. It wasn't until Hermione burst in with her note--_how courteous,_ Ron thought savagely, _for him to write us each individual, separate notes!_--that Ron realized what Harry had done.

In a panic, the two of them ran to McGonagall, who agreed to launch a search of the school and grounds. There were still Aurors and prefects around, and teachers, so everyone set off in different directions. Within an hour, Snape had returned from his trip to Hogsmeade to announce the Hopkirk--also in Hogsmeade for some reason--had seen Harry and that he was fine, he just had something to do 'on the Continent.' Ron might have gone into a rage right then and there, but Hermione put a restraining hand on his arm, and he quelled his temper and instead of bellowing at the teachers to bugger the Continent, Ron simply pleaded with them to write Minister Bones and ask her to authorize a search. Harry had run away; he had clearly cracked and needed to be found.

It was at that very moment that an owl swooped into McGonagall's office and dropped the letter in her hand. McGonagall called for silence as she read the note, and then looked up.

'We will be calling off the search for Potter,' she said. 'I have a letter from Mrs. Tonks's associate on the Continent. She has informed the Ministry that she expects Potter in five weeks' time. If he hasn't shown up by then, she'll let us and Minister Bones know.'

'Well, good,' said Snape dryly. 'Now that the great Potter is no longer in danger--'

'Excuse me!' Ron protested. 'That letter says he'll be meeting this 'associate' person in _five weeks_. We don't know where Harry's going now! What if he really has lost it? He could get hurt! We have to find him!'

'Mr. Weasley,' said McGonagall, 'admirable though your concern for Harry is, we have to assume he doesn't wish to be found, which is why he left you those letters to begin with! Given that he's only the most famous person in our world, if he were to waltz around looking like himself we'd know about it at once. We must assume that he's disguised himself and has no wish to be located!'

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione once again laid a hand on his arm, and he shut up, and instead chose to storm from McGonagall's office, after telling Hermione--in a tone that told her he meant to be left alone--that he'd see her later. He went back to the dormitory to find the other boys packing. None of them said a word as he very petulantly addressed Hedwig.

'I don't suppose you'll find him for me.'

Hedwig hooted and shook her feathered head, and Ron scowled. 'Fat lot of good you are,' he grumbled, and he opened her cage and shooed her out to go hunt. She gave him a haughty chirp and flew off. Fawkes sang softly to himself, and Ron whirled on Neville, Dean and Seamus.

'He didn't say anything about where he was going, did he?' Ron demanded.

'He didn't say anything at all,' said Seamus.

Ron let out a grunt. 'Fine,' he said, and stalked from the room.

It began to sink in, as he descended the boys' staircase in Gryffindor Tower, that Harry really had well and truly left. Without saying warning. Without saying goodbye. Having left behind only a note.

_...he doesn't wish to be found._

Ron's initial panic quickly turned to anger, and it was then that he felt the urgent need to move, to run.

Running had led him here, to the edge of the Forest, and there was nothing to do now but pace. He couldn't very well wander into the Forest, not by himself. Not when Aragog and his million children were in there. Ron cursed himself again for not thinking of his broom, and suddenly the sheer fury and frustration of it all welled up in him, and he let out a yell.

'DAMN YOU, HARRY!'

His voice echoed on the night air, sending a flock of birds--or maybe it was bats--fluttering from the trees. He'd probably get in trouble now. With a start, he glanced over at Hagrid's hut, but there was no light in it. Maybe Hagrid was in the Forest hanging about with Grawp and Mawg.

Ron sank to his knees, feeling useless. If he really examined his heart, he knew exactly why Harry had left, but that didn't take away the anger or the hurt. Even worse was the knowledge that Ron might have seen this coming if he'd bothered to meditate at all over the past few weeks, but with the stress of exams, and the effort of recovering fully from his physical wounds, he hadn't bothered to meditate at all.

His bad eye stung behind the patch; he couldn't wait for them to take it out and put in the new magical one. His knees were beginning to get wet from the damp grass as it soaked through his jeans. There was nothing he could do. Harry was gone. Ron hadn't been able to help him after all.

He got up dejectedly and brushed grass from his knees, when a soft clopping sound made him look up.

'Ronald.'

It was Firenze. His pale coat gleamed in the moonlight. He looked a bit skinnier than Ron remembered, and he walked a bit gingerly, as if his leg gave him just a bit of trouble, but otherwise he looked fine.

'Professor,' he said, before remembering that Firenze was not in fact a professor anymore. 'I mean, Firenze.'

'You look troubled,' said Firenze.

_That Firenze, a master of understatement._

'Yeah,' said Ron glumly.

'I hear a rumor that Harry Potter has gone,' said the centaur. 'Is that true?'

'It's true,' muttered Ron. 'He left. Didn't even say good-bye.'

'Really?' said Firenze. 'He left no word at all?'

'Left a note,' said Ron. 'Big deal.'

'Did he explain himself in this note?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Said he had to go find some Empath to help him.'

'Ah.' Firenze looked at Ron with a contemplative expression. 'Well...Empaths are very good at helping to heal the mental and emotional hurts of their fellow humans. I suspect Harry Potter has many of these.'

'Mental and emotional hurts?' said Ron. 'Yeah, a few. A lot.'

'Then why are you angry?' Firenze asked. 'Surely you want Harry Potter to heal himself.'

'Of course I want that!' said Ron irritably. 'It's just...'

He waved his hand, not sure how to express what he was feeling.

'You are frustrated that you could not be the one to help him,' said Firenze sagely.

'Yeah,' Ron mumbled.

'I take it you didn't see this coming,' said Firenze.

'No,' said Ron. 'I...I got really messed up in the battle at the Ministry and...I haven't been meditating because of exams and because I'm already tired from getting over my injuries, and meditating wears me out--'

'You don't have to explain yourself to me, Ronald,' said Firenze. 'I have heard of your brave deeds and your sacrifices. It is right that you took a period of rest from your meditations. All Seers require periods of recuperation, particularly ones who've been as badly injured as you.'

Ron nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

'I'm his best friend,' he said at last. 'Why...why won't he let me help him? And don't say it's because I can't fix everything or that Seers can't see everything or--'

'You can't heal Harry Potter's hurts,' said Firenze, 'because you do not understand them.'

'I know I don't understand them!' Ron snapped. 'That doesn't mean...I'm useless to him, does it? He could have confided in me! Even if I didn't totally understand, I would have been there!'

'I imagine Harry knows that,' said Firenze. 'You have been a good and loyal friend to him, Ronald. But even the most loyal friend cannot always help the friend he loves best. Harry must seek help from one who _can_ understand his hurts. He needs someone not only to listen to him, but to advise him, to guide him through his grief. You are not that person.'

'Great,' said Ron sarcastically. 'I feel so much better for that, thanks.'

'Do you think because you cannot help Harry Potter in this one instance that you are useless?' asked the centaur. 'I know what you did in the battle at the Ministry of Magic, Ronald. You were ready to sacrifice your very life to make sure Harry Potter succeeded and defeated the Dark One. That was what I meant when I said your part in the story was written. Your part was to help Harry in the most important way possible. I think you know that. That's why you made the sacrifice, is it not?'

Ron let out a breath. The scar from the wound across his belly stretched and tingled slightly. He put a hand over it. 'Yeah,' he said.

'Consider, Ronald, the sacrifice Harry is making now. Leaving the only home he's ever loved, and his friends, forcing himself to be alone, when he has always been alone in his way. Because he knows it is what he has to do, to survive his hurts, and come back from them. Do you not think he aches as you are now?'

Ron swallowed.

_No, I hadn't thought of that. I was too hacked off._

_But now...yes. Harry's hurting. Too much so for me or Hermione to help. And...Ginny..._

'Harry...and my sister,' said Ron haltingly. 'They...they had a relationship...she was...she is an Empath...Harry can't be with her because of the bad stuff that happened to them both...'

'That explains much,' said Firenze. 'Your sister was Harry's mate, they shared an Empathic bond. Such a bond is the strongest any two human beings can share, but it comes with a flaw. The bond is like steel, it is inflexible, and if it breaks, it shatters, and the pieces scatter far and wide. One piece remains between them, but the bond itself is otherwise in shards. This is the burden of Harry and your sister: if they are to be together again, they must rebuild the bond from those shards.'

Ron sighed. 'Why, though? Hermione and I came through this okay. I mean...things were a bit iffy, but we got through it.'

'Your bond with your mate is different,' said Firenze. 'Its strength is in its flexibility. It is deep in its own right, but malleable. It allows for hardship and change.'

'Why would anyone want an Empathic bond?' Ron asked.

Because to me it sounds like hell. Maybe Ginny could find a way to stop this Empath thing, and just be a normal girl...

'If one falls in love with an Empath, one has no choice,' said Firenze.

'He didn't even say where he was going,' said Ron. 'Before he goes to this other Empath, I mean.'

'That is for Harry Potter to decide,' said Firenze. 'It seems as if he wishes to be in solitude for a time. There is grace and peace to be found in solitude.'

'And loneliness,' Ron pointed out.

'And loneliness,' said Firenze, 'but given that he is seeking help from the one who can best give it to him, can you not trust that Harry will, in the end, heal his pain?'

Ron's first instinct was to protest. Harry shouldn't be alone right now. Ron should be with him. They should go to Auror training and get their flat together and have fun and get through everything together.

_He can't be an Auror now. He doesn't want to fight dark wizards anymore. He fought the darkest one there is. He needs space. He needs time. He needs...somebody else._

Ron finally nodded, the heaviness of knowing that he couldn't help Harry pressing on his chest. He cast about for a change of subject.

'How do you like being back in the herd?' he asked.

'It is good to be among my kind,' said Firenze. 'I have missed them.'

'You...forgave them? Just like that?'

'Yes, I forgave them,' said Firenze. 'We centaurs have our pride, but...we also have our roots. The Forest is my home.'

'I'm...I'm glad you could go back,' said Ron. 'To your home, I mean.'

'Yes,' said Firenze. 'And now you must go to your home.'

'The castle?' said Ron. 'That's not really my home. Come to think of it, I guess I don't have a home. The Burrow's been destroyed and...bloody hell, that's depressing. I'm homeless!'

'Sometimes, Ronald, home is not a place,' said Firenze. He nodded to something behind Ron, and Ron turned.

Hermione was standing there, with tears glistening in her eyes. She was smiling at him.

'Come inside, Ron,' she said.

Ron licked his lips.

Home. Of course.

He turned back to say good-bye to Firenze, but the centaur was gone.

Ron sighed again. 'Is everyone going to leave without saying good-bye?'

'I'm not going anywhere,' said Hermione, taking his hands in hers.

He looked down at her, and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. 'Good,' he said.

'It's going to be all right, Ron,' said Hermione. 'With Harry, I mean. And Ginny.'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah,' he said, and somehow, against all odds, he believed it. 'You're right.'

'Come inside,' she said again, tugging on his hands. It was then that Ron remembered something important.

'Hermione, I have to show you something.'

* * *

Once again, he found himself pacing. He told himself he was just nervous about whether his spellwork on extracting that memory was up to snuff, but that wasn't it. He was nervous for her reaction. Because he'd remembered every last detail of that dream, every word spoken, and he'd preserved it in the Pensieve she'd made for him. It was just a matter of whether she'd like what she saw, or panic.

'Ron?' Hermione called.

Ron rushed over to the bowl. Hermione was looking up at him, her hand stretched upward. Ron reached into the bowl, remembering to keep a grip on his dresser, and pulled.

With a whoosh, she was back in his room. He caught her as she stumbled, and then she pulled back and looked up at him. Her eyes had tears in them again.

Ron bit his lip. 'So...what do you think?'

'Why didn't you tell me before?' she asked.

'I wasn't sure if you'd freak out,' said Ron. 'I mean...we're really young, and we've got our careers and stuff. Maybe...maybe you don't even want...any of that stuff...'

'Children?' she said.

'Yeah,' said Ron.

'Marriage?' she said.

'That, too,' said Ron. 'Well, marriage first, of course.'

'Is that why, Ron?' said Hermione. 'Is that why you fought so hard to come back? From...from almost...dying?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'That's exactly why.' He paused, as she looked at him searchingly. His heart was racing. 'So...what do you think?'

'I think,' she whispered, 'that was the most beautiful dream I've ever seen, and I think I want that, too.'

Ron blinked. Surely he hadn't heard her correctly.

'Really?' he said. 'You want to get married? You'll marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, smiling through tears. 'I'll marry you. I want to marry you, Ron.'

'When?'

Hermione laughed. 'Well, not today!' she said.

'No, no,' said Ron, 'of course not. But...you want to...someday?'

'Someday,' said Hermione. 'Yes. I want all of it. A life with you, forever.'

Ron took a deep breath. 'Wow,' he said. 'I...that's brilliant. I mean...that's just brilliant.'

'Are you always this eloquent?' Hermione teased.

'Not really,' said Ron. 'Does this mean...can we be engaged?'

Hermione looked up as if thinking about it. 'No,' she said. 'You haven't really proposed to me properly.'

Ron rolled his eyes and he grinned. 'Fine, I'll do it right.' He went down on his knee and took her hands in his. 'This is how it's done, correct?'

Hermione bit her lip, and her eyes filled again. 'Something like that,' she said.

'I don't have a ring for you,' he said. 'I might not be able to get you one for a long time. I'm already in hock to you for my new eye.'

'I don't need a ring,' she said, a tear sliding down her cheek.

'Good,' said Ron thickly, his tongue suddenly dry. He looked up at her, hardly able to believe what he was about to do; he was giddy; he was crazy; they _both _were crazy; the world was bloody crazy. They were leaving Hogwarts in a week. He'd go to Auror training in a month, Hermione would join the Ministry as an Unspeakable, and Harry was somewhere out there, alone, seeking healing for himself, and for Ginny...everything was mad and upside down, but suddenly, in that moment, looking up at Hermione, everything made sense.

Everything would, in the end, be okay.

'Hermione Granger,' Ron said, working against a lump in his throat, 'will you marry me?'

She gave a small sob, and smiled.

'Yes.'

* * *

They went to the Leaving Feast, as was expected of them. McGonagall reported that Harry Potter had left the country to travel on his own for a while, and that Ginny Weasley was 'visiting relatives abroad.' She then asked everyone for a last moment of remembrance for the dead.

A loud sniff caught Ron's attention, and he turned to see Lizzie Towler hugging herself and crying.

'I should...' he said.

'Go ahead,' Hermione whispered.

McGonagall began to read names. First of the Aurors. Lizzie broke down as her brother's name was called, but Ron was there. He pulled her into a hug and stroked her hair as she sobbed on his shoulder. Other names were called, some that Ron knew, some that he didn't. These were the casualties of war, and yet all of them had someone in the Great Hall weeping for them. Ron caught Blaise Zabini's eye; the boy was dry-eyed, but looked haunted and lost. Everyone had lost someone in some way. Ron felt tears sting his eyes to think of Harry, wandering around somewhere in the world, struggling to find himself again, and of Ginny...especially Ginny, his little sister, so strong, and yet so tender at the same time. He knew in his heart she would be okay, but this was the second time he'd lost his sister to something he didn't fully understand, and it hurt. As he hugged Lizzie Towler he realized she was just about Ginny's size--Ginny had always been quite small--and a tear slid down his cheek.

* * *

For once, Ron had packed ahead of time, but in a way, he wished he hadn't. Now there was nothing to do but go on one last patrol, and go to bed. Tomorrow he would leave Hogwarts forever, for a future that was uncertain, and for the first time, he would not be with Harry. Ginny wouldn't be around. Ron would not be with Hermione, at least, not come August the first, when he would take the train to the Auror training camp. Ginny wouldn't be there. It was depressing to contemplate, really. The optimism Ron had felt a week ago had been steadily dwindling as the day to leave Hogwarts drew near. It felt as if things were breaking up. Scattering. Like Harry and Ginny's Empath bond.

The last week here had been hard. Without exams to distract him, Ron had thought of little else except Harry and his sister. Ginny was making very slow progress, according to Ron's parents, and Harry hadn't sent word at all. All week long Ron had been tempted to send Harry a letter, to use Hedwig to locate her master. Surely the snowy owl would know where he'd gone, she wouldn't stop looking until she found him. Ron had written the letter, it was perhaps the longest he'd ever written in his life. It was in an envelope and ready to go.

But every time Ron started to approach Hedwig, who'd been residing in his room with Pig since the night Harry had left, he stopped. Something stopped him. Harry—present and yet not—stopped him. Ron could almost hear his best mate's voice, telling Ron that he was all right, and that he needed space and time to figure himself out.

The letter was now packed with Ron's books, which he'd determine would come in handy for Auror training.

A knock on his door interrupted his heavy thoughts.

'Come in.'

Hermione entered. 'Ready for our last patrol?' She wore her Head Girl badge and robes, pressed and completely buttoned up as usual. She held a borrowed school wand in her hands. Leave it to Hermione to take her duties with the utmost seriousness until the end.

'Well, at least that sounds good,' said Ron. 'No more patrols.'

'You're depressed, aren't you?'

'Aren't _you_?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'but...I'm ready to go, too. I feel like...well, don't be surprised by my book metaphor, but I feel like one chapter of my life is over and there's this new chapter starting.'

'I'm shocked you would use a book metaphor to describe what you're feeling,' said Ron cheekily, finding it in himself to grin at her. He sobered, and said, 'I guess you have a point. I just...I miss him. And Ginny.'

'Me, too,' said Hermione. 'I miss them both a lot. And I miss...childhood.'

'It was simpler,' Ron agreed, but then determined to shed his blue mood, he said, 'Of course, one of the benefits of being an adult is getting to shag your brains out.'

'Pig,' said Hermione, and she swatted his arm, but smiled at him nonetheless. 'Come on, let's go.'

They took their time. The patrol was pretty much useless, but Ron found that it wasn't as depressing as he might have thought. If anything, he took the time to absorb his surroundings, to etch into his memory all the details of the castle, bit by bit. In nearly every place, there was a memory, and in most of those places, Harry or Hermione or both of them were a part of it. Sometimes Ginny was there, too. Ron could hardly believe he'd been here for seven years, could hardly believe that seven years had passed, that it wasn't just a week ago he was meeting Harry for the first time on the Hogwarts Express.

They were working the upper floors and towers, and by the time they went into Professor Sinistra's Astronomy classroom, it was nearly midnight.

Hermione wore a smile as they climbed up the ladder to the tower. Ron followed her and felt his face break into a small smile.

The massive telescopes had all been pushed to a corner, leaving much of the tower wide and open. Massive, squashy pillows and cushions and plush blankets were carefully arranged on a spotless parquet floor, and candles inside hurricane lanterns flickered gently.

Ron turned to Hermione to see that she had pulled off her robes and stood before him wearing the maroon jumper he'd given her on Valentine's Day, back in their sixth year. It was far too big for her. She'd kicked off her shoes, and her legs were bare, but she had her right leg crossed in front of her left. Her skin glowed from the candlelight, and the soft velvet gleam of the quarter moon, the flickering of the stars that painted the inky black sky.

'Wow,' Ron breathed. 'If I knew you looked that good in my jumpers, I would have given you all of them.'

Hermione giggled and blushed shyly. 'I thought...since it's our last night here...'

She walked towards him slowly, tugging the jumper down to cover her left thigh; when she reached him she went up on tip-toe and wrapped her arms around his neck.

_Our last night here...sad, but amazing, too..._

He kissed her, he kissed her with everything he had, pressing her close and tasting her mouth with his. He forced himself not to think of Harry and Ginny and their pain, and focused on Hermione.

'We won't get caught, will we?' he whispered, against her lips.

'No...' she said, and she kissed him again. They kissed for a few minutes and Ron realized he couldn't stand up anymore. He cupped his hands around Hermione's buttocks and lifted her, and her legs went around his waist as he carried her over to the cushions. As he lowered her down, the jumper rode up a bit, and Hermione gave a squeak and pulled it down again.

'Hermione,' Ron said, 'let me see...'

She bit her lip, and nodded. Ron propped himself up on one hand, sitting over her, and slowly slid the jumper upwards, revealing her thighs, the white cotton knickers she wore beneath.

She looked away, biting her lip, as he let his gaze take in her damaged thigh.

The flesh was pale and puckered; the scarring was quite bad, really, and Ron bit back a sympathetic wince. Theodore Nott had caused this wound, and Ron couldn't help but be a bit glad that Nott was dead.

Hermione gave a soft whimper. 'I know it's ugly...' she said.

'It's not,' said Ron at once. 'It's just a scar.' He let his fingertips glide over the marred flesh. She winced.

'Does it hurt?'

'No,' said Hermione. 'No. I just...'

'Shh...' Ron whispered, silencing her with a kiss, letting his fingers soothe the hurt skin of her leg. With his other hand, he tugged the jumper completely off, leaving her in bra and knickers. He took a moment to look at her.

'You're beautiful,' he said softly, 'every inch of you is beautiful.' He ran the palm of his hand over the soft plane of her tummy. He paused there and she placed a hand over his. Someday, their baby would be growing inside her.

His other hand continued to trace the scars on her leg, and then he kissed that skin, learning its texture and taste. Hermione let out another whimper and he saw that she was crying softly, but smiling. She sat up and pulled off his robes, his shirt; he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks and tugged down his trousers, and she returned the favor, tracing her fingertips over the scars on his arms, the wound across his belly, following the path of her fingers with her lips. She found the puckered flesh near his damaged eye that vanished beneath his eye patch, and smiled.

'You look like a pirate with that thing,' she said, grinning wider. 'A very sexy pirate.' She kissed him.

'I'll have to hang onto the eye patch, then,' he whispered, kissing her back, lowering her back onto the cushions. The last few articles of clothing seemed to melt away from them. Ron's hand found her belly again, and she smiled as she pointed her school-borrowed wand and uttered the Contraceptive Charm.

'Someday,' she murmured, before he claimed her mouth again. They made love as many times as they could manage, under the soft night sky with the stars blinking overhead. When they finally collapsed, sated, in a heap of limbs, Ron gathered Hermione in his arms and brushed a kiss across her forehead. They looked up at the stars; one of them streaked across the horizon.

'Make a wish,' Hermione whispered.

'Okay,' said Ron, and he did. It was really three wishes, but he hoped they counted, anyway.

'What'd you wish?' Ron asked.

'I can't tell you,' said Hermione, looking up at him. 'They won't come true.'

'You're right,' said Ron, remembering that old rule. They gazed at each other for a long moment, and Ron realized she didn't have to tell him, anyway.

'Me, too,' he said. They held each other in the dark and stared at the sky for a while, thinking the same thoughts, of a boy and girl who were far away and hurting, but fighting their way back.

Ron and Hermione fell asleep until morning.

* * *

Ron levitated his trunk into the Head Boy's car, and then did a patrol of the Hogwarts Express with Hermione, stopping to chat briefly with various classmates. The mood was heavy, given the tragedies of recent weeks, but most of the students seemed to be putting on a brave face, and everyone was relieved that school—and the ordeal with Voldemort—was finally over.

Of course, rumors continued to run rampant. By now, Harry was rumored to be somewhere in South America, living in a jungle amongst Pygmies and without magic; Ginny had joined a religious order of celibate witches; and Draco Malfoy had gone to Siberia to track down his father. Ron scoffed at the first and second rumors, but couldn't help but believe the third, at least as far as Draco chasing down Lucius. Ron and Hermione had an uneasy feeling about Lucius being on the loose, but given that his boss was gone, and the Death Eaters all but defunct, nobody else seemed to be too concerned.

Ron and Hermione exited the train to assist the younger students with boarding the train, and found Neville and a fully recovered Luna Lovegood. Luna was beaming.

'Hey, Ron, Hermione,' said Neville.

'Hey, guys,' said Ron. 'Ready for our last ride?'

'Yeah,' said Neville. 'Weird, isn't it, to think we're not coming back in September?'

'Weird,' Ron agreed, 'but in a good way. What are you two doing this summer?'

At this, Luna burst in.

'Oh! We're going back to Sweden!' she said excitedly. Indeed, it was the most energetic Ron had ever seen her. 'Dad found them! He found the Snorkacks! The Ministry's given him a research grant and he's going to set up a foundation for them!'

'Wh-what?' said Hermione. 'You're joking.'

'No,' said Luna proudly. 'Look!' She shoved a _Daily Prophet_ under Hermione's nose; Hermione snatched it up and gaped at the front page, as Ron looked over her shoulder.

The photograph depicted four huge, silvery-green, bizarre looking creatures who resembled giant lizards, except they had the snouts of warthogs, and several holes on their bodies that reminded Ron of the spouts on whale's backs. Horns grew out of their foreheads, horns that were sharp and jagged and looked as if they'd been stepped on, or, well, crumpled. The creatures rolled about in the sea, looking almost as if they were playing.

The headline read _'POD OF LEGENDARY GIANT CRUMPLE-HORNED SNORKACKS FOUND IN SWEDEN'_, with the sub-headline _'British Wizard Journalist Makes Breakthrough Discovery'._

Ron's eyes scanned the first paragraph.

'_Believed to be a creature of myth and legend, the Crumple-Horned Snorkack has been to Sweden what the Loch Ness Monster long was for Scotland: a creature many believed in, but few had actually seen or documented. Now, journalist and publisher Linus Lovegood, 40, has, after years of searching, found this unique and rare magical creature in the North Sea and managed to capture extensive photographic footage that has been scientifically verified by the Department of Rare and Unique Magical Creatures within the Swedish Agency of Magic._

_'As a result of making this important biological and zoological find, Mr. Lovegood, of Ottery St. Catchpole, has earned a generous research grant from the Department of the Study for Rare Magical Beasts, a branch of the United Kingdom's Ministry of Magic. Mr. Lovegood's discovery will bring together the Swedish and British departments on a joint study of these previously unverified animals.'_

'That's...I don't...it's...' Hermione spluttered. She looked up at Luna in shock. Ron didn't know whether to feel sorry for his girlfriend or chuckle.

'That's brilliant, Luna,' said Ron. 'Congratulations.'

'Oh...oh, yes,' said Hermione quickly. 'Congratulations, Luna.'

'Thank you!' said Luna, and she flung her arms around Hermione, and then Ron.

'So, Neville,' said Ron quickly, hoping to drag the subject away from Snorkacks, 'when do you start Healer training?'

'Next month,' said Neville. 'That's when you start Auror training, right?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'We're going to some boot camp thing in Italy for two months. It's supposed to be really rough, apparently it's to weed out the people who can't handle it. I just hope I don't screw up.'

'Sorry about...about Harry, and all,' said Neville.

Ron glanced at Hermione. 'Yeah, well,' he said, 'I think Harry's probably better off not chasing after dark wizards. After...you know.'

'Yeah,' said Neville. 'Listen, Ron...for what it's worth, I think Harry's fine. Wherever he is.'

Ron felt his heart clench just a bit; at that moment, the small part of him that wanted Harry back spoke.

_Harry should be here. This is the last journey on the Hogwarts Express. We should be on this together..._

But then Ron looked at Neville's optimistic smile, and Luna said, 'Harry is very strong. I'm sure he'll be just fine, eventually.'

'I think you're right,' said Ron, and he meant it. 'Hey, Neville...thanks, by the way. I should have told you before, but...you saved my life.'

Neville blushed. 'Oh...yeah...I didn't do too much...'

'All righ', everyone, time to get on board!'

Hagrid clomped his way through the crowd, ushering the younger students on board the train, but when he saw Ron and Hermione, his beetle-black eyes filled with tears, and he strode over to them.

''See you, Hagr--'

'I'll miss you two so much!' Hagrid bawled, crushing Ron and Hermione into a huge bear hug. 'It's not righ', Harry bein' gone, but I know he's okay, I jus' know it!'

'We know, Hagrid,' Hermione wheezed, gasping from the force of Hagrid's embrace.

'Hagrid...' Ron gasped. 'Air...'

'Oh, righ'!' Hagrid said, letting go of them. He stood back and looked down at them, smiling fondly.

'I can' believe you two...all grown up...seems like las' week you three were gettin' into mischief with Fluffy an'...an' meetin' Aragog...' Hagrid's chin began to tremble.

'Yeah,' said Ron, grinning, 'it was really fun, meeting Fluffy and Aragog.' He exchanged glances with Hermione, who giggled.

'And don't forget Grawp,' she said.

'Oh, Grawpy says hello!' said Hagrid excitedly. 'He and Mawg are doin' jus' fine and...do you know...Mawg's expecting!'

Hermione's face went white, and Ron stumbled.

'What?' he croaked.

'R-really?' Hermione said. 'Mawg's pregnant? How...how nice.'

At this, Hagrid burst out laughing. 'You two! I'm jus' kiddin'! You shoulda seen yer faces!'

Ron let out a sigh of relief, and Hermione laughed nervously.

'Yes,' she said, 'well, do tell Grawp we said...hello.'

'Will do,' said Hagrid. 'You two...take care of yourselves, and each other. An'...don' worry 'bout Harry or Ginny. I know things are rough righ' now, but I've never met two more stubborn people. They'll be all righ'.'

Ron and Hermione both nodded; Ron didn't really want to think about Harry anymore, not when leaving Hogwarts was sad all by itself. Hagrid hugged them again.

'I bes' get back to the school,' he said. 'Don' forget to write!'

'We won't,' said Ron. Hagrid went tearful again, and hurried off, blowing his nose on his tablecloth-sized handkerchief.

Suddenly, it was time to go. Ron and Hermione found themselves hugging their teachers goodbye—all except Snape, of course, and Hopkirk, who hadn't made an appearance today. Then they were on the train, and in their compartment. The train whistled and gave a lurch, and Ron and Hermione suddenly pressed their faces to the glass, unable to believe they were leaving Hogwarts behind them.

'Ron...' said Hermione, and she glanced at him and bit her lip.

'I know, love,' he said. There was something awful about doing this without Harry and Ginny. It simply _wasn't right_.

The train moved forward and slowly began to pull away from Hogsmeade Station. Ron and Hermione sat back for a moment, across from each other, looking at one another in silence. There seemed to be nothing to say.

A moment later there was a knock on their door. Ron looked up and saw Blaise Zabini just outside; Ron nodded and Blaise came in.

'Hey,' he said. 'Hi, Hermione.'

'Hello, Blaise,' said Hermione warmly.

'So, Weasley,' said Blaise, 'I heard you're doing the Auror program with the Ministry.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'I'm all set for that, unless I bombed on my N.E.W.Ts.'

Blaise paused, and then said, 'I'm in the program, too.'

'No kidding,' said Ron. 'I didn't know you were applying.'

'Nobody did,' said Blaise. 'Well, nobody except Daphne.'

Blaise's face took on a stricken expression and he licked his lips.

'We're really sorry about Daphne,' said Hermione. 'She was...we didn't know her well, but she seemed like a really lovely person.'

Blaise swallowed and looked at Hermione for a moment. 'Yeah, she was,' he said. He cleared his throat.

'Anyway, Weasley,' he said, 'I just figured you should know. We're the only two from Hogwarts who got in, apart from Potter, of course. But...since he's...somewhere else...anyway, I just want you to know I'll be in it with you.'

Ron nodded. 'It'll be good to see a familiar face,' he said. 'Boot camp's supposed to be pretty intense. Maybe we could, I dunno, give each other a hand, here and there.'

'Yeah,' said Blaise. 'Yeah, that'd be good. Well...I'll leave you guys alone. See you.'

'See you,' said Ron, and he watched the other boy leave the compartment.

'That was nice of you, Ron,' said Hermione.

Ron shrugged. 'He's not so bad.'

'For a Slytherin?'

'For a person,' said Ron. 'Must be tough...with Daphne. I think we're lucky, you know?'

'Yes, we are,' said Hermione, and she moved into Ron's arms. 'We are.'

They held each other and stared out the window as the train picked up speed. They thought of Harry and Ginny, who should be saying goodbye to the castle with them. They didn't stop looking out the window until Hogwarts became nothing more than a dot on the horizon, and vanished.

* * *

_One month later_

'You're sure you have everything, Ron?' Mrs. Weasley fretted.

'Yes, Mum, I'm sure,' said Ron, for the fifth time that morning. Ron, his parents, his brothers--including Bill, Fleur, and their newborn son Arthur George--and Hermione were all at the train station to see him off to boot camp. Ron blinked again, focusing his magical eye. It was quite odd, really, having it. It was powerful enough to penetrate nearly all spells and charms of concealment--something Kingsley said would be a plus for being an Auror. Mad-Eye Moody had already grumbled that Ron's eye was far better than his, and that he himself would have to buy the newest model.

Indeed, the eye really didn't feel any different when it was in. It stayed very clean and Ron could go days without removing it, although Healer Smethwyck advised weekly cleanings.

Fred and George were still teasing him about the first time Ron had popped out the eye and looked in the mirror to see his empty eye socket. He'd taken one look, screamed like a girl, and passed out. When he'd come to, Fred and George were merciless.

'Some Auror he'll make!' said Fred. 'Crikey, Ron, can't even look at your mangled face without passing out. How're you going to handle all that blood and guts?'

'M-maybe they should g-give him a few bags to p-puke in,' said George.

Ron gritted his teeth and bore the twins' teasing, given that George was almost fully recovered, but for a small stammer that would likely be permanent.

After the initial shock of realizing Ron didn't have his original eye, though, he began to like having the magical one.

The best thing about the eye was that Ron could charm it, simply by blinking twice and uttering 'Reveal', to see under people's clothes. Ostensibly this was to check for hidden weapons, but since Hermione had showed up a few days ago, to spend his last couple of days at the half-rebuilt Burrow, he'd been using it for other purposes.

'Pink today,' he had whispered to her, as they were leaving the house to take a Ministry car to King's Cross. 'And lacy. Very nice.'

'Ron, knock it off, that's not what the eye is for!' Hermione had hissed.

'You bought it for me,' said Ron, shrugging innocently. 'I'm just making sure it's in optimal operating condition.'

'Pervert,' she'd muttered, but she'd smiled.

Now they were at the station, and in several minutes Ron would be going on his journey to Italy, to the valley below the Dolomites, where the boot camp was located.

The journey itself was something of a test: as they were traveling with Muggles, and were not allowed to use magic, mention magic, or talk about where they were going, Ron and Blaise--as well as the two trainees from the Kilcannon Institute in Dublin, a small Irish magical school--had all been instructed to come up with a cover story. The four of them were university students from King's College in London on a summer paleontological internship and they would be living in the town of Pieve di Livinallongo (it had taken Ron a full week to pronounce that one correctly). The part about living in Pieve di Livinallongo was true, although their housing--and the camp itself--would be charmed with anti-Muggle protections. In any case, it was as Ron loaded his trunk onto the train that he truly wished Harry were there, and not simply because he missed Harry terribly. Harry would at least have some clue about how to act around Muggles.

Ron set his trunk down in a compartment, and then fetched the owl cage from Charlie. He'd taken on Hedwig--there was really no choice, and he decided that Hermione could better handle taking care of Fawkes--but Hedwig was supremely put out that she had to share a cage with the wholly undignified Pig, who hooted about her delightedly and flapped his small wings in excitement. Ron wondered, not for the first time, just how he was supposed to be insignificant to the Muggles when he was carrying an owl cage around with him, but the paleontology cover story, Kingsley Shacklebolt explained, would offer cover there as well.

'Just tell the Muggles, if they ask, that you brought the birds to compare their bone structure to the dinosaur bones,' he'd said. Ron had nodded as if he knew what Kingsley was talking about, which of course he didn't, until Hermione explained it to him.

Ron stored the owl cage and then went back out to the platform. It was time to say good-bye.

His mother hugged him and didn't seem to want to let go of him.

'You be careful,' she said, sobbing. 'Write us as much as you can and don't go getting into trouble, and be sure you eat enough but don't gorge on sweets, I know how you are--'

'Mum, I'll be fine,' said Ron, smiling and shaking his head as she let go of him.

'Take care, son,' said Mr. Weasley, hugging Ron quickly. 'We're damn proud of you.'

'Thanks, Dad,' said Ron.

'Good luck, little bro,' said Bill, hugging Ron tightly. 'You'll be great.'

'_Au revoir_, Ron,' said Fleur, beaming up at him, her and Bill's squirming, blond-haired son in her arms. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and Ron's face flamed. He caught Hermione's eye, and she shook her head and smirked.

''Bye, Artie,' said Ron, waving at the infant, who merely looked at him curiously for a moment, but then spread his mouth in the semblance of a grin.

'Is he smiling?' said Ron.

'Sort of, yeah,' said Bill, grinning. 'Cool.'

'He's just delighted you're going far away, Ronnie,' said Fred, clapping Ron on the back.

'Keep talking,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. 'I'm going to kick your arse after two months in that camp.'

'Assuming you don't still faint when you l-look at yourself,' said George, winking.

'Better make sure there are no spiders in Italy,' said Fred. Ron smirked and when his mother wasn't looking, flashed a rude hand gesture at Fred. Fred did it right back, and they both grinned.

''Bye, Ron,' said Charlie. 'Don't listen to them. You'll do fine.'

'Take care, Ron,' said Percy. 'Study hard, and be sure to read those books I got you.'

Ron let go of his fifth brother and realized with a pang that Ginny wasn't there to see him off.

He bit his lip and looked at his parents. There had been no contact with Ginny, or at least, no direct contact from her to Ron. Mrs. Tonks was sending daily reports to Ron's parents; apparently Ginny was talking more freely about her traumas, and she'd begun to write in a very mundane, entirely non-enchanted diary as part of her therapy. Ron thought Mrs. Tonks was barmy to make Ginny write in a diary, after her experience with Riddle's, but Hermione sagely intoned that by giving Ginny a diary that wasn't threatening, she could start to take back control of her fear of Riddle. Ron had to admit, Hermione had a point.

In any case, Ginny had not been allowed to write to Ron, or perhaps she had chosen not to.

_She probably still feels guilty about...about what happened that night._

'We'll send Ginny your love,' said Mrs. Weasley, and Ron nodded. It would have to do for now.

And of course, there was no Harry to see him off, either. Ron hadn't heard a word at all about Harry. There were occasional 'Potter Sightings' in _The Daily Prophe_t but the wizarding world had slowly come to accept that the Boy Who Saved Everyone had decided to go 'underground'. The nastier rumor was that he'd simply cracked and had committed suicide, and the Ministry was searching for his body but was covering up his death. Ron couldn't help but feel hurt that Harry hadn't even bothered to write once since he'd disappeared. Didn't Harry realize his friends were worried for him? Ron had struggled through the summer, dealing with the loss of his best mate and his sister; it was only the extensive physical labor involved in rebuilding the twins' store and the Burrow that had kept Ron from totally giving in to despair.

'I wish Harry were here,' he blurted, not really meaning to say that aloud.

Nobody said anything for a moment; nobody seemed to know what to say at first. It was George who spoke.

'H-Harry'll come around eventually,' he said. 'You'll s-see, Ron.'

Ron smiled half-heartedly at George, and nodded. It still didn't feel right, going off to Auror training by himself, but there was nothing to be done now. He'd committed himself to this, and he couldn't back out. He would have to find a way to accept Harry's choices, and just hope that someday soon, Harry would at least drop him a line to say hello.

The train suddenly whistled.

'Oh! Ron, you have to go!'

'Yeah,' said Ron, and he suddenly began to panic.

He turned to Hermione and felt his heart squeeze. He wouldn't see her for two months. Auror trainees got very little time off during the boot camp phase of their training, and Hermione was already very busy with her Unspeakable research.

She bit her lip and her eyes shone with tears, and he crushed her in his arms.

'I love you,' he whispered into her hair. 'I'll miss you.'

'I love you, too,' she sniffed, clutching him tightly.

'All aboard!'

They broke apart.

'Write to me,' said Hermione, still holding onto his hands.

'Every day,' Ron promised.

She smiled at him, and he kissed her fervently, not caring that he was doing it in front of his family. They hadn't told anyone that, technically, they were engaged. It seemed important to them, somehow, to keep it to themselves for now. But it was the simple fact that Hermione had promised to be his wife someday that made his heart soar in spite of the ache inside.

The train began to move, and Ron had to go. He kissed Hermione one last time and jumped onto the train, waving to his family and his future wife as the train slowly began to gather speed. He bit his lip against a lump in his throat that Ginny wasn't there, waving at him, too, as she had all those years ago when she was just ten years old and he was going to Hogwarts the first time.

As the train began to leave the station, Ron kept his eyes on his family, all of them still waving at him, when a sudden movement caught his attention. Another figure was there, on the platform, standing some distance away from the Weasleys. A figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. A young man with, as far as Ron could tell, light brown hair and otherwise non-descript features, but for his eyes, which were brilliant green.

Ron gasped, and the green-eyed boy grinned at him. The grin, those eyes…they were unmistakable behind the glamours that otherwise distorted his familiar features.

_No way…it can't be…_

The boy raised his hand in a quick wave, and Ron felt the lump in his throat pressing against his windpipe, but he felt himself wave back at the boy. His family and Hermione didn't see the boy—they thought Ron was waving at them. Ron was half-tempted to cry out the boy's name, but then the boy grinned at him one last time, and vanished into the crowd.

Ron blinked, and Harry Potter was gone. In the next moment, Ron remembered himself, and waved to Hermione and his family one last time before the train rounded the corner and the people he loved were gone from his sight.

Ron could hardly breathe. Harry had been there at the station. In disguise, without his glasses, but Ron was sure it had been Harry. Nobody had eyes like that, nobody grinned in quite that way…

Harry had come to see him off. Words couldn't describe the rush of happiness Ron felt. He had no idea when he'd see Harry again, but just seeing him for those few seconds…

In a happy daze, Ron headed towards his cabin.

When he turned and came face to face with Blaise Zabini.

'Hey,' said Ron, blinking and bringing himself back to reality. 'You made it.'

'Yeah, my N.E.W.Ts were pretty good, actually,' said Blaise. 'Yours, too, I gather.'

'Yeah, I scraped by,' said Ron, shrugging. Actually, he'd done quite well, but he wasn't one to talk about exams once they were over with. Ron then noticed that Blaise was standing in front of two people, a boy and girl. The girl had dark brown hair, pale skin and blue eyes, and was quite small; the boy had strawberry blond hair and more freckles than Ron, and merry hazel-green eyes.

'Hey,' said Ron. 'Er...'

'Oh,' said Blaise. 'This is Liam Donovan and Maureen Flynn. They're from the Kilcannon Institute.'

'Right,' said Ron, and he shook hands with the boy and the girl. 'Ron Weasley. Good to meet you.'

'Just the four of us for this trip, I guess,' said Liam. 'We're meeting the rest of them once we get to Italy.'

'I'm ruddy nervous,' said Maureen. 'Half the people who go into boot camp don't finish it.'

'We'll survive,' said Ron, with more confidence than he'd expected to feel. Perhaps seeing Harry—Ron was positive it had been Harry—was the cause.

'Oh,' said Blaise, and he handed Ron an envelope. 'I saw you putting stuff away in that one cabin, so the rest of us went in, but I found this on one of the seats.'

Ron took the envelope, and he felt his stomach swoop a second time when he saw the familiar scrawl on it, that said only his name.

'Thanks,' he said.

'You okay, Weasley?' said Blaise. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Ron laughed nervously. 'Something like that,' he said. 'Er…listen…why don't you guys get settled. I'll…I'll join you in a bit.'

Blaise eyed Ron for a moment, and then the letter, but he shrugged and nodded to his two companions, and the three of them moved down the train to their cabin.

Ron stood there, frozen in place. His fingers trembled as he opened the letter.

_Ron,_

_I know you probably weren't expecting to hear from me. To be honest, I wasn't expecting to write. I hope you're reading this, but maybe you got too hacked off with me for doing that runner without saying goodbye._

_I know it was a selfish thing to do, mate, but I couldn't stay. I really couldn't. Those last few weeks of school I knew I couldn't stick around. Everything was so messed up and I just needed to get away from everything that reminded me of…everything. _

_You're probably wondering where the hell I've been for the last month. I didn't know where I was going that night I left; I hadn't made any plans except to leave, and to go to this Empath's house on August the first. It wasn't until I was heading further and further south that I knew: I wanted to go to Egypt._

_Weird, huh? I mean, Egypt definitely reminded me of you, and of your family, and of Ginny. I went to every single tomb you guys visited, and hung around the markets, and went on this cruise down the Nile, and just stayed anonymous (by the way I've read the stuff in the Prophet. Marietta Edgecombe apparently still hates my guts). Egypt was incredible. Hot as hell and dusty and crowded, and everything about it reminded me of you and Ginny and your family. But for some reason it didn't hurt, thinking about you guys there. Maybe because that was when we were younger and stupid and innocent, or something, but I feel like I—don't kill me for saying something so corny—found a bit of myself in Egypt. I almost felt happy. I almost didn't leave._

_I came back because I knew I'd have to face up to all the messes in my life sooner or later, and by facing them sooner, maybe I can fix them sooner. Maybe I can find Ginny again. And I remembered that today I would have been going to Auror training with you. Part of me still wishes I was going. It's weird, not hanging around you all the time and getting into trouble with you. But I'm on this path now, and it's not the same as yours, and I hope you understand. I figured if I couldn't go with you, the least I could do is see you off, and let you know that I was okay._

_I am okay, Ron. Well, all right, I'm not really okay yet, but I will be. I think we all will be. Things won't be the same now we're out of school; we can't get back the things we lost, or the things that are behind us, but maybe we can all build a good future. That's what I'm trying to do, and I hope you understand why I had to do it this way._

_Wow, this is a long letter; I don't think I even wrote this much for one of Snape's essays. Anyway, I just wanted you to know I'm all right, I'm not dead, and I'm going to Geneva, Switzerland. I'll probably be there for a while, and I don't know when I can write again, but I'll try._

_Take care of yourself, mate, and of Hermione. Tell her I said hello, will you? I saw your family—that's brilliant about George, and Bill and Fleur. Let them know you heard from me and that I'm doing all right._

_I miss you, Ron. You'll be a great Auror._

_Harry_

_P.S. I know I can't contact Ginny, but I think about her every day. If you could just let me know how she's doing, from time to time…it would really help. You don't have to tell her about me; I don't want her to get upset or anything. But I think it would make things a bit easier for me to handle._

Ron re-read the letter three times, and it was only when he folded it that he realized tears were in his eyes. He read the post-script again. Yes, Ron decided, he would write to Harry and let him know how Ginny was doing. How everyone was doing.

'Tickets, please.'

He blinked and looked up to see a fat ticket collector standing in front of him. Ron reached in his jeans pocket, pulled out his ticket and handed it over.

'Round trip to Gay Paree,' the collector said dryly as he punched the ticket and handed it back to Ron. 'Have a lovely stay.'

Ron nodded and thanked the collector, and then looked at the letter from Harry again. He pursed his lips and let out a deep breath.

It had been Harry at the train station. Harry had come to see him off, and at some point, he'd left behind this letter. Ron felt a grin spread over his face. One day, he realized, he and Harry would look back on this day and share a good laugh.

One day, he and Harry would share a lot of laughs together.

Feeling suddenly buoyant, Ron headed back to the compartment he shared with his fellow Auror trainees. He came in smiling.

Blaise Zabini looked up at him suspiciously.

'What's with you?' he said.

'Nothing,' said Ron, sitting down. 'Just looking forward to getting to boot camp.'

Blaise shook his head. 'You're looking forward to two months of hell? You're a weird one, Weasley.'

Ron shrugged. 'Comes from hanging out with Harry Potter, I guess.'

'You know Harry Potter?' said Liam eagerly. 'No kidding.'

'They were best mates in school,' said Blaise.

'Are best mates,' Ron corrected.

'Where is Harry Potter?' Maureen asked. 'He seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.'

'Oh, he's around,' said Ron, grinning. 'By the way, Blaise, since we'll all be going through hell together, maybe we should be on a first name basis.'

Blaise eyed Ron for a moment, and then smiled. 'Okay, Ron.' Then Blaise held out his hand, and Ron shook it.

Both boys sat back, and Ron couldn't help but look out the window as the train sped out of London. Ron wasn't certain of too much, but he was certain of one thing: that things had worked out as they were supposed to, in spite of all the struggles and losses and pain. Out of those dark moments sprung a future full of bright possibilities, not only for Ron and Hermione but for two other people, a red-haired girl and a green-eyed boy who were far away, but inside Ron's heart.

Hedwig gave a soft hoot, and Ron looked up. The owl was regarding him with a gentle look in her eye, and Ron realized she would have seen her former master when he dropped off his letter.

Hedwig hooted again; it wasn't a joyous sound, so much as a warm, bittersweet one, a sound of heartache and yearning and hopefulness and happiness all at once. She fluttered her wings softly as Pigwidgeon nuzzled in closer to her.

'I know how you feel, girl,' Ron whispered. 'I know exactly how you feel.'

* * *

**A/N: This is the end of the story, but for the epilogue. I hope everyone has enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I can't believe I actually finished it, and now that I have, I feel the same kind of ache that Ron must feel for Harry: a hopeful but sad kind of feeling knowing that I've reached the end of something difficult and must move on to the next thing.**

**I couldn't have done this without the consistent support of my readers. Not everyone agreed with my choices, but that's okay. No story is so great that it doesn't deserve honest criticism, and I'm grateful to everyone who took the time to read and comment.**

**Of course, no author's note would be complete without a huge and heartfelt thanks to my betas, lina and Buckbeaky. Lina has beta'ed the bulk of this story, and Buckbeaky was "her second" while lina was away for the summer. The two of them have been awesome and inspiring, and I owe them tremendously for their support and assistance.**

**Ultimately, though, the biggest thanks must go to Joanne Kathleen Rowling, who has crafted such an exquisite universe and who has generously allowed her fans to play with her creation.**


	56. Epilogue

_EPILOGUE: Five Years Later_

The seventh year students groaned as their teacher announced homework:

'Two feet of parchment on the history, origins and characteristics of lethifolds--come on, it's not _that_ bad--and I want everyone to be practicing their Patronus and Shield Charms for next time. I'll know if you haven't. Class dismissed.'

As the students filed out, the professor heard a few grumbles.

'He's merciless,' complained Jennie MacDonald. 'Honestly, N.E.W.Ts are still two months off!'

'I still say he's a bit cracked from, well, _you know_,' muttered Nathan Ackerley. 'He went through hell so he feels like he has to pass a bit of it on to us.'

'You're right about that, mate,' said Richard Baddock. 'I mean, the man knows his stuff, but he's definitely a bit barmy, isn't he?'

'Come off it,' said Olivia Quirke. 'He's brilliant. Best Defense teacher we've ever had. And he's so dreamy looking.' Olivia sighed, but then blushed when she saw that the professor had overheard her. She burst into a little shriek of giggles that was matched by Jennie. Nathan looked at his friend Richard and the two boys rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

Professor Harry Potter smiled to himself as the students filed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. As always, one student lagged behind.

'Professor Potter,' said the nervous voice of Thomasina Pritchard, the Head Girl and a Ravenclaw, 'I was just wondering...well, I do hate to be a bother to you, but...have you by any chance finished writing those recommendations I asked you about? I know you're terribly busy, but I did want to get my applications sent out before the Easter holidays--'

'I've got them all right here,' said Harry, smiling at Thomasina as he pulled open his desk drawer and extracted half a dozen neatly rolled pieces of parchment, each sealed with a wax imprint and his signature.

'Oh, thank you so much, Professor!' gushed Thomasina. 'You've no idea how much I appreciate this, this will really help me get a leg up on the other applicants, I think, just having a nice word from you, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you went to such trouble for me--'

'It was no trouble at all,' said Harry. 'Though I dare say you don't need me singing your praises to anyone in order to land a great job.'

Thomasina blushed and self-consciously brushed a bit of her very frizzy blonde hair out of her face. 'Well, I'm not really...that is to say...I just work hard, that's all. Books and cleverness, that sort of thing.'

Harry almost laughed. Thomasina might be blonde, blue-eyed and a Ravenclaw, but she was in all other respects so much like Hermione it was uncanny, and very, very amusing.

'So, thanks very much for this,' said Thomasina, hoisting her hugely overpacked schoolbag onto her shoulders. 'Have a lovely weekend.'

'You, too, Miss Pritchard,' said Harry, as Thomasina hurried out of the room in a flurry of curly hair and black robes.

Harry let out a breath and sat back in his desk chair, and without really thinking about it, he opened his other desk drawer and took out the small Snitch in it. It had become a ritual of his, after each lesson, to toss the Snitch in the air and catch it. Harry might not play Quidditch very much anymore, but he was determined not to lose the reflexes that had made him the best Seeker Hogwarts had seen since Charlie Weasley.

_I really am my father's son,_ he thought absently, as he caught the Snitch a sixth time.

'Potter.'

Harry caught the Snitch a seventh time and looked up to see Professor Severus Snape glowering at him.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' said Snape sarcastically. 'Have I come at a bad time?'

'What can I do for you, _Severus_?' said Harry.

Snape bristled, and Harry once again felt like laughing with immature triumph. He knew Snape hated for Harry to address him by his first name. As a result, Harry made sure to do it at every possible opportunity.

'As you have probably forgotten, I will be going out of town next week, and I'll be gone for a fortnight,' said Snape coldly. 'Minerva has asked all the other teachers to fill in for me in my absence. Unfortunately, that includes you.'

'The Headmistress wants _me_ to take some of your Potions classes?' said Harry, tossing the Snitch up in the air and catching it again. Just to irk Snape further, Harry put his feet up on his desk.

'If it's not a _bother_,' said Snape. 'Of course, if you'd prefer to spend your time playing with your little balls, I'd understand.'

'Oh, no,' said Harry, smiling nastily at Snape and ignoring the other man's dig. 'It's no bother at all for me to take on some of your lessons. I may even forget to mention to the students why you're going on holiday in the first place.'

Snape went white, and his eyes flashed. 'Potter, you will say nothing about that, do you understand? And I mean absolutely nothing--'

'Relax, Severus,' said Harry dryly. 'I won't say anything. I can't very well have anyone feeling sorry for you. It would ruin your reputation.'

Snape snorted. 'You're insufferable, Potter,' he said.

'Only for you, Severus,' said Harry, grinning broadly. 'Only for you.'

Snape gave Harry a dirty look and swept from the room, muttering to himself.

'Impertinent brat...just like his father...can't believe Minerva gave him the job...'

Harry chuckled. His relationship with Snape, now that it was on equal footing, had turned from mere loathing to mutual, contemptible respect. Snape would sooner jinx off his other leg than to admit Harry really was the best Defense teacher Hogwarts had had in a long time--even better than Remus Lupin and Griselda Hopkirk--and Harry would sooner cut out his own tongue than to say anything nice about Snape, to his face or otherwise. But Harry was Snape's colleague now, not his student, and this afforded him the advantage of being able to piss Snape off frequently without worrying about being sent to detentions or being threatened with expulsion. That Snape couldn't take action against Harry in such a manner anymore was a source of constant frustration for the Potions Master, and a source of constant, wicked glee for Harry, who took great joy in aggravating Snape as much as possible.

Of course, the source for Snape's annoyance on this particular occasion was that his 'holiday' was really a visit to St. Mungo's in which he would be fitted with the latest, state-of-the-art magical false leg, which Harry himself had purchased. Snape knew Harry had done this, and it infuriated him. To his obvious chagrin, Snape had no choice but to accept it, given that Harry was buying the leg in repayment for Snape having sacrificed his real leg to save Ron's life. Never mind that technically, Ron should be the one to do this. Harry had chosen to do so--and had never told Ron just how Snape had lost his leg. Ron couldn't have afforded a new leg for Snape, anyway. Auror pay wasn't much to write home about, and in any case, Ron had had to save up his money for another purchase.

Harry let out a breath and put the Snitch back in his desk, and then turned his attention to the stacks of parchment on his desk. One stack was the pop quiz he'd given that morning--again to the groans and grumbles of his students. The other was their homework assignment. He wasn't much looking forward to having to grade all of them, but then, it was Friday. He didn't see the seventh years again until Tuesday. That, at least, gave him a bit of breathing room.

He gathered up the parchment and stuffed it into his valise and once again was glad he wouldn't be the head of Gryffindor House until next year. This meant that tonight, he could skip having his dinner in the Great Hall, and go home and cook himself something simple, take a long, hot shower, and go to bed early.

He headed out of the castle, greeting students and his colleagues as he went. It wasn't his usual practice to skip dinner with the rest of the school, but tonight he was bloody well exhausted. He had been for the past month, trying to keep Ron and Hermione sane, working interference for them both as they struggled with the stresses of planning their wedding. They had bickered a lot over it--mostly about the cost and the logistics--but part of the pressure was owing to Hermione's emotional state. She was, to put it mildly, a bit of a wreck.

Harry had expected this, of course, as had Ron. It was to be expected that Hermione would suffer badly at the death of her father, who had escaped the wrath of Death Eaters only to die in a car accident two years later. The irony was unbelievably cruel.

The aftermath of that event had left Hermione an emotional mess. Ron had sacrificed a term of study in the Auror training program, deferring his completion of the program for six months in order to come back to London. Hermione moved home with her mother, and Ron joined them, acting as their caretaker for six months and, with the help of Molly Weasley, seeing them through the worst of their grief.

That was three years ago. Hermione had since accepted the loss of her father, and her mother had adjusted to being a widow with grace and strength, but now, with Ron and Hermione's wedding imminent, mother and daughter were both again struggling with the loss of Warren Granger, and the knowledge that he could not walk his daughter down the aisle or otherwise share in what should be the joyous occasion of Hermione marrying the love of her life.

As such, Ron and Hermione had had a very difficult time of it lately. It didn't help that both were suffering from what Mrs. Weasley termed 'the pre-wedding jitters.'

For Harry's part, things might have been easier to cope with over the last month had the love of his life been around to see him through it. But she was on the road this month with Puddlemere United. He wouldn't see her until tomorrow afternoon at the very earliest.

Harry suddenly realized he'd walked the entire way to his flat without really noticing it. It wasn't a long walk, of course--he lived right in Hogsmeade, just off the High Street, but even so, the thought of just going to sleep--to hell with dinner and that shower--sounded doubly tempting.

He picked up the latest issue of The Daily Prophet and scanned the headlines.

_LUCIUS MALFOY APPEALS DEATH SENTENCE  
__Case could drag on for years_

Harry sighed. Lucius Malfoy had been caught over a year ago, finally, with no small amount of help from his son, Draco. Draco had 'gone respectable,' as Hagrid had once said, taking over the Malfoy affairs and transforming his father's many illegal businesses into a single, legitimate entity known as Malfoy, Ltd., which bought and traded rare magical antiquities to magical museums and occasionally to very wealthy private collectors. The business was incredibly lucrative, and Draco was easily the richest wizard in the United Kingdom. In catching Lucius--who had become so notorious, even the Muggles were told of him--Draco was knighted by the Queen and given a bunch of awards by the Ministry of Magic. Of course, Ron had played no small part of Lucius Malfoy's capture, but Draco, as was befitting him, took all the credit. Ron said he didn't care about that--all that mattered was that Lucius Malfoy was in prison, entirely stripped of magic thanks to a new set of spells that were rumored to have been created by Hermione's team of Unspeakables. Of course, the Ministry refused to confirm or deny any of that, and no Unspeakable gave any comment to the press. Harry had contributed to the finding of Lucius as well, albeit in an 'unofficial' capacity, which meant that nobody knew about Harry's involvement except those involved directly with the case. That had been an interesting period, to say the least.

Harry then found another smaller headline, also related to the Malfoy family:

_DRACO MALFOY TO WED MINISTER'S NIECE  
__Wedding promises to be the social event of the season_

Harry smirked and shook his head. He had no earthly idea what Susan Bones saw in Draco Malfoy, but he was past feeling any real malice for Draco, given that the Malfoy heir hadn't bothered Harry at all in the past five years, that their paths had crossed only as many times as was necessary to retrieve Lucius, and that Draco was no longer pining after Ginny. The last thing Harry had said to Draco was to be good to Susan, or else. Draco had snorted at that, but so far, the consensus seemed to be that Draco and Susan were happy together, or at least content. Harry was sure he'd heard of stranger couples, but at the moment, he couldn't think of any. At any rate, it struck Harry as supremely ironic that Draco would be marrying the other girl Harry had dated while they were in school. Harry, furthermore, had no idea how Draco seemed to have worked past all the tragedies in his life, but it wasn't as if Draco was going to confide in him. They were now nothing more than passing acquaintances, their mutual loathing having burned out in the aftermath of war and loss.

Harry folded the paper, unlocked the front door of the apartment building and stumped up the stairs to his third floor flat; he opened his door with his wand and slid gratefully inside.

Home. It wasn't a very large or grand space, but it had all the room Harry needed, and it was comfortable.

It was also, Harry noticed, as he set down his valise and pulled off his work robes, unaccountably dark. At once, Harry felt his spine stiffen, and he held out his wand. He was sure he hadn't left the flat in this condition. Hedwig's cage was empty; that was normal. The rest wasn't. Something felt wrong.

'_Lumos,'_ he muttered, and suppressed the urge to groan. This was just what he needed after a long week: a stupid prowler or burglar in his home to complicate matters.

It was then that he noticed his bedroom door was flung wide open and that a dim light was emanating from it.

_Jeez, if this is a burglar, he's a right moron. _

Harry crept quietly towards his bedroom; his footsteps were silent on the wooden floor. He might not have gone through with Auror training, but he wasn't a great Defense teacher for nothing.

Upon reaching the threshold to his room, Harry went still for a moment. Perhaps the prowler would leap from the shadows. Harry raised his wand and held it tighter. It was a near-exact replica of his old wand, down to the phoenix feather inside the holly wood, but it felt slightly different in his hand all the same.

When nobody leapt out at Harry and tried to jinx him, he edged his way into his room, keeping his back flush against the wall. He then whirled about, with his wand outstretched, to scan the room, and found himself facing his little walk-in closet, whose door was open. He rolled his eyes.

_The closet? Are you kidding me?_

Realizing that he was indeed dealing with a person of sub-average intelligence, Harry relaxed his guard just enough to move quickly towards his closet, his wand still pointed out.

'All right, you--'

'Over, here, Harry.'

Harry whirled around just as his bedroom door clicked shut and was about to open his mouth to fire a spell, when he saw who his intruder was.

A mixture of surprise, happiness and anger washed over him. He was genuinely shocked to see her.

'What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?' he said angrily. 'I could have hexed you!'

'You don't seem very happy to see me,' she said, putting a hand on her hip.

Harry let out a breath. 'Of course I'm happy to--hang on, what are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow.'

'Oh, that's much better, Harry,' she said sarcastically. 'You know, if you prefer I can just leave and come back tomorrow.' Her brown eyes narrowed at him.

It suddenly occurred to Harry--really occurred to him--whose brown eyes were looking at him with annoyance. Whatever anger and confusion he'd felt disappeared. He was suddenly, overwhelmingly happy. He decided, however, to play along, just a bit. It was how things were between them, and he'd always enjoyed it.

'I'm overjoyed,' he said, as tonelessly as possible. 'You look smashing in my robe.'

'Better your robe than my practice uniform,' she said.

'You came straight from practice?'

'I Apparated and everything,' she said. 'And you know how I hate Apparating. I'm only wearing your robe because I took a much-needed shower and I forgot to bring something else to wear.' And with that, she untied the robe and let it slide off her shoulders. 'See?'

Harry took in a breath. Well, this was certainly a very, _very_ exciting development in what had promised to be a totally mundane and boring evening.

He meant to say just that, but the site of her wearing nothing but a very smug grin, with an impertinent hand on her lovely, curving hip caused his verbal acumen to disappear.

Without further ado he strode across the room and pulled her into his arms, devouring her mouth with his.

She giggled when, a few minutes later, they came up for air. 'Miss me?'

'Hell, yes.'

'Good,' she said. 'I missed you, too.'

'I didn't expect you tonight,' he said, kissing the tip of her nose, 'but I'm very happy to see you.'

She gave him a suggestive smile and lowered her small hand to his crotch.

'You certainly are,' she purred.

'Minx,' he breathed.

'Always,' she said. 'Take me to bed right now, Mr. Potter.'

'If you insist, Miss Weasley.'

* * *

At some point in the evening, they managed to drag themselves from his bed, eat a light supper and drink some wine. They wound up doing this naked, because Harry reasoned it made no sense to throw something on if they were just going to wind up back in bed again. Ginny decided she agreed with this logic, and so for the first time in his life, Harry ate his dinner completely starkers and watched his girlfriend do the same. Of course, watching Ginny eat when she had nothing on made it difficult to think about food. That is, until Ginny announced they would be eating strawberries and whipped cream as their pudding, and Harry learned that whipped cream tasted better on Ginny than it did on strawberries.

Needless to say, they didn't get much sleep that night.

When they finally did collapse, Harry found he couldn't actually sleep, but Ginny slept heavily. She always slept heavily these days.

Harry was grateful for that. He was grateful for a lot of things, in fact, but he was especially grateful that Ginny Weasley was sleeping through the night, almost every night now, without having to rely on sleeping potions or Empath spells to get her through. She had reverted, she told him once, to her sleeping patterns that she'd had at the Burrow, as a child, before Hogwarts. Back then, she'd learned to sleep through almost anything. One couldn't get a good night's sleep at the noisy Burrow otherwise. That, of course, had changed after Tom Riddle and her first year at school, and had only grown worse after her sixth year, but somewhere at the end of her seventh year at school, somehow, she'd finally discovered sleep again. It was then, she had told Harry, that she knew once and for all she would be totally all right. Scarred, but healed.

He leaned up on his elbow and brushed a copper tendril of hair back from her face. His heart ached a little, in moments like this. It had taken them a long, long time to find each other again. He'd spent two years in Geneva, slogging through the hell of 'finding himself' with the help of Mme Verlaine, a quirky, handsome old woman who spoke with a thick French accent and owned half a dozen ornery little terriers. He'd written letters on occasion to Ron and Hermione even as they wrote to him constantly. It was in a letter from Ron that Harry had learned of Warren Granger's death.

Ron had been faithful in his updates on Ginny, although he seemed to have deliberately kept them just vague enough not to be upsetting in any way. Ginny, Ron had often said, had her good days and her bad days. Harry didn't have to be near Ginny to know that her bad days would have been epic; his own bad days were epic in their horrors, and he knew they both had bad days for similar reasons.

Harry's journey with Mme Verlaine came to an end the day he finally accepted the Dark Arts teaching post, offered by Headmistress McGonagall. It was when Harry started the job itself that he knew he really would be all right. Scarred, but healed.

And now here he was, with Ginny back in his life, in his bed, in his soul where she belonged, and yet neither of them could pretend things were quite as good or free as they had been. There would always be challenges for them, and roadblocks. Ginny had given up the idea of becoming an Empath Healer, for the same reason Harry had given up being an Auror: neither one of them wanted careers that reminded them of the horrors they'd seen. They didn't often discuss what they had gone through when they were apart, although when they did talk about it, they were open enough with one another for Harry not to feel like anything was strained between them. It was just that, they both knew it had been absolute hell. Why relive it? In any case, the Empathic bond rather made talking about those things pointless. Harry didn't have to hear in words how tough things had been for Ginny; he knew it every time he touched her or was in the same room with her.

It was the same for him: he could never fully hide that part of him that hurt, that to this day continued to hurt. Both of them still hurt. Both of them had accepted this as a part of who they were, as a part of the way things were now. It wasn't easy, but neither was it crippling.

Still, they fought sometimes. The major source of their problems boiled down to the fact that they didn't see each other as often as both would have liked. Ginny's career--she was now playing Chaser, and not just on reserve, for Puddlemere--kept her traveling, and she had set up a flat for herself in London, which was of course hundreds of miles away from Harry, whose own career basically forced him to live in Hogsmeade. There never seemed like enough time together.

Harry greatly resented Ginny's Quidditch career, not only for the way it kept her away from him so often, but due to the attention it brought her from other men. It shouldn't surprise him, of course: Ginny was a striking girl and she was a female professional Quidditch player--there weren't nearly as many female pro players as there were male players. She was going to get attention no matter what. Reporters had been on her tail for a while now--Marietta Edgecombe, in particular, was relentless--trying to launch rumors, insinuate themselves into her life. She was, in short, dealing with the fame Harry had once had to deal with, and all the attention from the opposite sex that tended to bring. Not only that, but she was the only woman on the Puddlemere team. It was ridiculous, Harry knew, that he should be jealous, and yet he was. He couldn't help but feel selfish. He wanted her all to himself.

It was much the same for her, and this, then, was part of their struggle: the need for each other that tended to overshadow everything else, including rational thought. Mme Verlaine had warned Harry, long ago, that an Empathic bond was never an easy thing to manage, and she had been right. So long as Harry and Ginny were connected, they would struggle to overcome the excesses of a bond that threatened to overwhelm reason, and the urges to be jealous and selfish.

And yet, for all this, Harry wouldn't change anything, or trade it, even with the small sense of restlessness he now felt, knowing that the following evening Ron and Hermione would be getting married while he and Ginny still seemed to be a bit up in the air.

He'd already asked her to move in with him once, and she'd turned him down. He was tempted to ask her again, but he didn't want that rejection. He'd come to learn and to accept that Ginny would take her time with those sorts of decisions, and that he could not rush her, but that didn't stop his impatience.

He sighed and lay down next to her, studying the face he'd come to love above all others. Yes, he had what he wanted, at least for now. Things would never really be easy for them, but she was here, and she loved him, and he loved her. They'd been through worse, together and apart. The ache in his heart matched the full feeling he always had when she was with him. They didn't make plans for the future. They lived for each day, and that was all right for now.

She made a little sound in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. He smiled to himself as he drifted off.

Life was good.

* * *

'Ginny! Ginny, wake up. We're going to be late!'

'Wha--Harry, I was sleeping,' Ginny groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes as he flung open the drapes to his room.

'Ginny, it's half-past eleven!' Harry barked.

Ginny shot out of bed. 'Half-past eleven?' she screeched. 'Why didn't you wake me earlier?'

'We didn't go to sleep until four o'clock in the morning,' Harry retorted, 'and waking you is about as easy as herding cats! Come on, get dressed! Ron and Hermione are going to kill us.'

They were dressed in ten minutes and then Apparated to the Burrow, Harry carrying his dress robes.

'This is your fault, Harry,' Ginny grumbled as they headed for the house. 'If you hadn't shagged me half to death last night--'

'Excuse me,' Harry hissed, 'but I was ready to call it a night after the third time. You're the one who was attacking me!'

'It takes two to shag properly!' Ginny retorted. 'If you hadn't--' She broke off suddenly and burst into laughter.

'What?' said Harry irritably, as he let himself into the house.

'I just realized who we sound like,' she said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eyes.

'Who we sound like? What are you--oh.' Harry laughed, too. 'Shit. And we're arguing about shagging, no less.'

'What a stupid thing to argue about,' Ginny agreed. 'Especially since I had such a ruddy good time.'

'Ditto,' said Harry, grinning, and he gave her round bottom a little tweak.

'Harry!' Ginny squeaked.

'Harry, Ginny!' Mrs. Weasley burst into the kitchen, wearing a dressing gown and curlers in her hair. 'Thank goodness you're here, I didn't know you'd be arriving together. Where have you been, what on earth have you been doing?' She paused to look at them both, and then shook her head. 'Never mind, don't tell me. Ginny, you really should go upstairs to Hermione--'

'I'm on my way, Mum,' said Ginny, her face flaming just a bit. 'Is my stuff up there?'

'Yes, yes, just go on!'

Ginny hurried up the stairs.

'Harry, Ron's in Fred and George's room, do you mind...?'

'Not at all,' said Harry, and he quickly kissed Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. 'Congratulations, by the way.'

Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears, and she crushed Harry in her arms.

'Can you believe it? My youngest boy!' she bawled.

'It is...hard to believe...' Harry gasped, struggling to breathe in Mrs. Weasley's bear hug.

'Oh, go on, Harry,' said Mrs. Weasley, letting go of him and wiping her eyes. 'Damn. I've gone and made my eyes puffy, I'll have to fix that.'

She waved Harry away and headed off to her bedroom.

Harry headed up the stairs to what was Fred and George's room--at least when they stayed at their parents' house. The 'new' Burrow was configured in much the same way as the old one, except the new house was much bigger, with more and larger rooms, as well as a nursery that was used on a rotating basis by the smallest of the Weasley grandchildren, which were numbered two--Bill and Fleur had had a second son--but would soon increase to four, owing to Fred and Angelina's twins--also boys--that would be due in a few months' time.

Harry knocked on the closed door.

'Come in,' croaked a familiar voice. Harry smiled and entered the room.

Ron was in there, along with all his brothers, who were all grinning from ear to ear. Ron looked about as lost and desperate right then as he had before their first Quidditch match as teammates back at school.

'Hey,' Ron managed.

'It's Ickle Harry!' Fred shouted, and he embraced Harry; the other Weasley brothers--all but Ron, who seemed frozen to the spot--did the same.

'Oi, Harry,' said George, 'maybe y-you can talk some s-sense into Ron. He's f-freaking out a bit.'

'And for good reason!' said Fred. 'He is, after all, marrying Hermione Granger. Consigning himself to a lifetime of being her slave, er, husband.'

'Shut up, Fred,' Ron and Percy both said.

'Maybe we should leave Harry and Ron alone,' said Charlie loudly, and he and Bill managed to drag Fred and George out of the room.

Percy followed them, leaning on his cane. He gave Harry a wink just as he shut the door behind him.

Harry looked up at Ron, who was still frozen in place.

'Er, Ron? Are you okay?'

Ron didn't say anything at first; Harry didn't push, but it was a good thirty seconds before Ron said, 'Shit, Harry.'

Harry gave Ron a look. 'That says it all.'

'I'm nervous,' said Ron, and he began to wring his hands.

'I hadn't noticed,' said Harry.

'I'm getting married in an hour,' said Ron, his blue eyes wide.

'Yeah, that's what it says on my invitation.'

'I'm getting married in an hour!' Ron repeated. 'Shit, shit, shit!'

He began to pace, still wringing his hands. 'How's Hermione? Is she okay?'

'Dunno,' said Harry. 'Ginny's with her, though.'

'Ginny's here?' said Ron. 'Good, that's good. Hermione's been kind of a wreck. You know, with her dad and all. She was crying all day yesterday. I told her yesterday I'd spend time with her today, but she bit my head off, said the groom's not supposed to see the bride on the wedding day before the actual wedding. I thought getting married was supposed to be fun, but this isn't all that fun, Harry.'

'It might be better if you just relax,' Harry suggested.

'Fat lot of help you are,' Ron snorted. He looked in the mirror, and then back at Harry.

'How do I look?' he asked. 'I feel like a prat in this outfit.'

'It's dress robes and a suit, Ron,' said Harry.

'Yeah, but I still feel like a prat,' said Ron. 'No, more like a waiter in some snooty restaurant.'

'You look fine,' said Harry.

'Fine? That's it, just "fine"?'

'Dashing,' said Harry. 'Handsome. Gorgeous. Really, really manly.'

Ron smacked him on the back of the head. 'Git.'

'Hey, don't mess up my hair!' Harry protested. 'It took me ages to make it look this good.'

Ron snorted again, but he grinned and let out a breath. 'Thanks, mate.'

'For what?'

Ron shrugged and his ears went pink. 'You know, for being here.'

'It's your wedding, Ron, of course I'm here. Where else would I be?'

'Prick. You know what I mean.'

Harry grinned. 'Are you about to get mushy on me?'

'No, I'm about to kick your arse,' said Ron, with a wicked smile on his face as he advanced on Harry threateningly.

'Oi, no rearranging of the best man's face, thank you very much,' said Harry, holding up his hands. 'And yeah, I do know what you mean, and you're welcome.'

Ron started to open his mouth to say something, but then he just grabbed Harry and hugged him hard.

Harry hugged Ron right back.

They let go of each other, and Ron said, 'Listen, Harry, maybe you could check on Hermione for me? Just, you know, make sure she's okay? I know Ginny's there, but...'

'Sure,' said Harry. 'Will you be okay by yourself? Should I send your brothers back in?'

'God, no,' said Ron, looking horrified at the thought. 'I think I could use a bit of time alone. Before, you know, everything starts up.'

'You bet,' said Harry. 'Just holler if you need me.'

Harry grinned one last time as Ron tried to adjust his necktie and fix his slightly floppy red hair, and left.

He then realized he ought to change his clothes. He stopped in the bathroom before going to Ginny's room, and pulled on his suit and dress robes, of the same midnight blue as Ron's. He checked his hair--'Hopeless,' he muttered--and went back out into the corridor and to Ginny's room.

He came to the door and gave it a soft knock.

'Come in,' Ginny called.

Harry entered and felt his breath leave him, just a little.

Ginny was dressed in soft, silvery lavender robes, draped gracefully over a matching dress that fell to her ankles. On her feet she wore delicate sandals of the same color, with toes painted a pearly white. Her hair was pulled up loosely in waves.

'Wow,' said Harry. 'You look gorgeous.'

Ginny blushed. 'Thanks. You look quite nice yourself.'

'I do my best,' said Harry. 'Where's the bride?'

'In my magically expanded walk-in closet with the vanity table, fixing her face,' said Ginny. 'She's been crying all morning and her poor eyes are a puffy mess. Thank god I showed up when I did.'

'Hmm, you mean an hour late?' Harry teased.

'I thought we'd already established that was your fault,' said Ginny, putting her hand on her hip.

'If you say so,' said Harry, kissing her gently on the cheek.

'Harry?'

Harry pulled away from Ginny at the sound of Hermione's voice, and stared.

The bride wore a gown of ivory lace with tiny, sparkling beads dotted on the fabric here and there. It was topped with a scooping neckline and short sleeves, with a high waist--Harry vaguely remembered Ginny describing it as 'Empire'--and the length of the dress was long and slim, with just a bit of train in the back. Hermione wore no veil but instead had a small tiara of pearls on her head. Her hair was in a complicated style that twisted and fell down her back, and was shot through with tiny beads and ribbons that matched her dress. She wore a simple bracelet on her wrist and pearls at her ears. She was utterly beautiful, and Harry felt a lump in his throat.

'Hermione,' he said, 'you look breathtaking.'

Hermione smiled, but her eyes filled with tears.

'Hey!' said Ginny sternly. 'There will be no more crying. That's the third time you've had to fix your make-up!'

Hermione laughed and quickly wiped her eyes. 'I charmed it to be waterproof!' she protested. 'I can cry as much as I want.'

She smiled at Harry as he came to her and embraced her.

'Ron's going to pass out when he sees you,' said Harry, grinning.

'Good lord, I hope not,' said Hermione. She gazed up at Harry with wonder in her eyes. 'I can't believe...can you believe we're doing this?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I can. It's brilliant, Hermione. The two of you. It's exactly as it should be.'

'Thank you, Harry… for doing this,' said Hermione.

'I know I'm a poor substitute for your dad,' said Harry, holding her hands in his.

She bit her lip. 'I miss him so much.' She took a deep breath and looked back up at him. 'But I'm glad you're here. And you're not a poor substitute. You're my brother--the brother I never had, and if Dad can't be here for this, there's no one else I'd rather have walking with me.'

'Your dad's here,' said Harry, smiling at her and giving her a gentle, affectionate chuck on the chin. 'He's here and he's seeing everything and he's really proud of you.'

'Dammit, Harry!' said Ginny, her eyes filling with tears as she grabbed a handkerchief from the pocket of her robes. 'Now you're going to make me ruin _my _make-up. Stop saying such sweet things, okay?'

'Oops,' said Harry. 'Fine. From now on I'll be completely boorish and horrible.'

Both girls giggled and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him as she dabbed at her eyes.

'Right,' said Hermione, taking another deep breath and squaring her shoulders. 'You two have the rings?'

'Of course,' said Ginny. 'Harry?'

'Yep. Ready to make Ron the happiest man alive?'

'And the luckiest,' Ginny pointed out, as she draped a delicate, sheer layer of ivory dress robes over Hermione's shoulders and then handed her a bouquet of delicate lavender roses.

'I'm ready,' said Hermione, smiling radiantly.

* * *

Looking back on it, Harry would realize that there wasn't much about the actual ceremony that he could recall with any clarity. Things just seemed to be a blur, dotted with crystal clear memories that came and went in flashes.

The music that filled the lawns behind the Burrow, which Mrs. Weasley and her husband and sons had decorated lovingly and spectacularly with every flower they could get their hands on, and delicate ribbons. Fred and George released dozens and dozens of their Faux Fairies. The make-shift arbor under which Ron stood as he waited for Hermione. The chairs neatly arranged in rows. The sunlight.

Harry remembered how tightly Hermione had clutched his arm, how, in front of them, Mr. Weasley gently escorted Mrs. Granger to her seat, her chin trembling as she struggled not to cry.

Harry felt his own throat burning with the urge to cry. He felt inadequate, leading Hermione towards her future husband. This was not something Harry should be doing, but the job of a father. Not for the first time, Harry wondered why Hermione hadn't just asked Mr. Weasley to take care of this part, but then the music for the bride's entrance started, and Harry knew he couldn't back out now.

He remembered the look on Ron's face as Hermione appeared; it was the look of a man struck dumb with happiness, with awe. Harry remembered the soft gasps of the crowd as they walked by, everyone admiring Hermione in all her splendor. He remembered the tearful smile on Ginny's face as she waited up at the altar, to be at Hermione's side when rings were exchanged. He remembered reaching the altar, where Remus Lupin stood, looking a bit old but regal and dignified in black dress robes and holding the book which contained the ancient Celtic marriage ceremony. Harry remembered taking Hermione's hand from his arm, and passing her hand into Ron's, whose eyes strayed from her only long enough to smile at Harry and for him to mouth the words 'thank you.'

Those were the things Harry remembered. That, and Ginny, who was at least as beautiful as the bride that day, if not more so, at least to him. He remembered exchanging smiles with her. He vaguely recalled the ancient ritual, the curious looks on the faces of Hermione's relatives, for whom the ceremony had been altered just enough so as not to include any spells or other suspicious magical references.

Harry also remembered the end of the ceremony, when Remus announced that Ron and Hermione had been joined in the bonds of marriage, or something to that effect. Harry couldn't be sure; he was too busy smiling at Ginny, who was smiling back at him almost shyly.

And then it was over, and suddenly Harry's two best friends were married, were husband and wife, and photographs were taken--Dennis Creevey had become quite good with a camera.

After photographs, the celebration began in earnest. The Weasleys had set up tables for the outdoor meal, and there was even a makeshift dance floor nearby. People began to mingle and get drinks. The bride and groom were nowhere to be seen, but Harry remembered hearing Dennis mention something about a few more photos; perhaps he'd dragged Ron and Hermione down to the lake. Harry realized he needed the loo; he gave Ginny a swift peck on the lips and headed inside, saying he'd be right back.

He moved past the kitchen when he heard thumping coming from the pantry. Instinctively, he pulled out his wand and edged closer. The thumping continued, and Harry wondered if perhaps the family ghoul had escaped the attic and was wreaking havoc in the pantry. Another thump, and the sound of something shattering, followed by voices.

'Oh, hell...'

'Don't worry about it...we'll clean it up later'

'Are you sure you locked the door? And...oh...oh, that's good...you...soundproofed it, right?'

'Yes, I locked it and soundproofed it and...oh, god...don't stop...'

'Bloody hell...you're so gorgeous...'

'Mmm, right there...'

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. He didn't want to embarrass them, but he could only imagine the humiliation if Fred and George walked in and found them.

Harry strode over to the pantry.

'Oh...oh, Ron...'

'Oh, Jesus...Hermione...'

Harry knocked on the door, quite loudly.

'Shit.'

'Who's that?'

'It's me,' said Harry, resisting the urge to snigger. 'I just thought you'd like to know that you haven't soundproofed this pantry.'

'Hermione! You forgot to soundproof it!'

'It's not my fault, you were putting your hands all over me and I got a bit distracted!'

'Still not soundproofed!' Harry yelled, clapping his hands over his ears.

'Maybe we should just come out,' said Hermione.

'What? No!' Ron whined. 'I wanted to--'

'What? Shag in the pantry while Harry knows we're in here?'

'You know what?' Harry called. 'You two shag as much as you want, just soundproof the bloody door before Fred and George come in here and catch you at it. Meanwhile, I'm going upstairs to take a leak and try to forget what I've just heard.'

And with that, he ran to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione and Ron showed up at their party, looking a bit flushed and quite happy. Ron pulled Harry aside.

'Thanks, mate,' he said, 'for, you know, telling us about that door.' He grinned.

'I take it by that perverted smile on your face that you did wind up shagging in there,' said Harry, smirking.

'Hey,' said Ron, 'we're married now. It's perfectly proper for a husband to shag his wife in a kitchen pantry. Ruddy brilliant place to do it, too. All those shelves...you know, they were really sturdy. Surprised the hell out of me. Well, I've never shagged in the pantry before, of course, but...who knew?'

'That's nice, Ron,' said Harry, and then he grinned wickedly and decided to get a bit of revenge. 'You know, maybe Ginny and I could have a go in there later.'

Ron smacked Harry on the back of the head.

After a long and hearty meal, prepared by Winky and three other house elves that the Weasleys had 'borrowed' from Hogwarts (all of them were getting wages now), the dancing began in earnest, and by then many of the guests--most of them Ron's family--were well into their cups. It was no small thing, keeping them from doing magic. Half the stress of planning the wedding in the first place was the constant issuing of instructions to the Weasleys and the Prewetts not to mention anything to do with magic.

Of course, things hadn't worked out quite that well. Here and there some uncle or aunt would forget himself or herself and mention some spell or potion, and on two occasions, Fred and George had had to quickly cover up some accidental spell-making by one particularly drunken uncle with quick demonstrations of their joke products.

Not that the Granger family seemed to notice. It was such a small group of people, and while they had all appeared stiff and formal at first, it took only a few drinks to loosen them up. Mrs. Granger was engaged in a boisterous conversation with Ron's uncle Gareth about something or other, and Harry noticed that Hermione was smiling, glad to see her mother come out of her shell and have fun.

Harry found himself having a better time than even he had expected. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were there (the Granger relatives all marveled at how 'big boned' they were), along with Neville and Luna, Fred and a very pregnant Angelina, Bill and Fleur--both of them toting a child, Charlie and his new girlfriend, none other than Mary Stebbins, one of Ron's colleagues, Penelope and Percy, Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. The war had long ago claimed Alicia Spinnet, but George had recently begun dating a girl called Tracey Davis, a former Slytherin. Dean Thomas danced with Parvati Patil; Seamus and Lavender canoodled from time to time under a tree. Mrs. Tonks and her husband Ted were there, along with their daughter, who managed to drag Remus Lupin onto the dance floor a few times. Professor McGonagall shared a few dances with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Lizzie Towler, now nineteen and beautiful, looked utterly delighted to dance with Ron. Blaise Zabini led one of Ron's comely red-headed cousins in a few waltzes and they very quickly wound up spending much of the evening in each other's company.

And yet there was the slight pall of those who weren't there. Like Dumbledore, and Dr. Granger, and Lee Jordan and Colin Creevey and Padma Patil and Kenneth Towler and Alicia. His parents. Sirius. Harry had allowed himself not to think of them until now, as the evening was starting to wind down and the last dance was starting.

And then Harry felt Ginny tug on his hand and she led him out to the dance floor. He smiled down at her and felt the warmth of her closeness, the comfort of her powers flowing through him as her hand interlaced with his.

'Having fun?' she asked, smiling up at him.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I am. Although I witnessed something earlier that I'd like to forget.'

'Ron and Hermione screwing in the pantry?' said Ginny.

'How did you know that?'

'I saw them leaving it,' said Ginny, 'as I was coming downstairs from the loo. Those two. They're like rabbits.'

'I dunno,' said Harry, grinning, 'I think we do all right ourselves.'

'Only all right?' said Ginny. 'I'll have you know, Potter, I'm still sore from last night.'

'Good,' said Harry.

'Pig,' said Ginny.

'Guilty,' said Harry.

He kissed her lips and pulled her close; they danced for another minute, when Ginny pulled back.

'Harry, I've been thinking.'

'Sounds serious,' he said, smiling.

'I am serious,' she said. 'You asked me, six months ago, to move in with you...and I said no.'

Harry stiffened and stopped dancing. Honestly! Did she have to bring this up on the ruddy dance floor?

'What about it?' said Harry.

'Do you know why I said no?'

Harry sighed. 'Do we have to talk about this now?'

'Just answer the question, Harry, please.'

'Because you weren't ready,' said Harry shortly.

'That,' said Ginny, 'and I was scared. I've been scared...ever since the day we got back together.'

'Scared of what?' said Harry.

'Of us...this...the Empath thing,' said Ginny. 'Of having it, and losing it.'

'I thought we'd accepted...that's how things just are with us,' said Harry, and he felt his heart begin to pound.

_Merlin, is she...breaking up with me? _

'I thought we had, too,' said Ginny. 'But I realize I haven't. Not really. At least, not until last night.'

'I don't understand.'

'I came back a day early, Harry, because I wanted to see you, but also...because I'd made a decision,' said Ginny, taking her hands in his. 'Shit. Dance with me, please. I can't say this if you're just standing there staring at me.'

'O-okay,' said Harry hesitantly, and he pulled Ginny back into his arms and began to sway to the music. 'What...what's your decision?'

Ginny wasn't looking at him, but he could feel her bite her lip, felt her chest rise and fall as she let out a breath.

'I was going to tell you last night but I chickened out,' she said. 'I guess bringing it up here isn't the best but...I keep seeing Ron and Hermione and they look so happy...'

'What do Ron and Hermione have to do with us?' Harry asked.

'I...I want what they have,' Ginny whispered, moving her face into the crook of Harry's neck as she clutched him more tightly. He felt a wave of emotions flow into him. She was trembling and scared, but Harry knew what she meant, and he felt his stomach swoop about like an out-of-control broom.

'You...you want to get married?' he said.

Ginny laughed nervously. 'No,' she said. 'I mean...yes, I do, some day...but not now. I...just...I want...'

She pulled back from him, still swaying to the music, and met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with tears. 'I want to know...that we have a future. That...that I can wake up next to you, and we can share a home. Stuff like that.'

'Ginny, what are you saying?' said Harry, although he had a fair idea.

'I want to move in with you,' she said. 'If...if the offer's still open. I hate my stupid flat in London and I don't feel at home there. I want to be home with you.'

Harry stared into her caramel-colored eyes, and brushed a tear away from her cheek. His heart was floating inside his chest.

'You want to move in?' he repeated.

'Yeah,' she said. 'I mean, if you want me to.'

'I want you to,' he said. 'I do.'

She smiled. 'Good.' She paused, and said, 'There's something else I should tell you.'

Harry froze again. 'You're not pregnant, are you?'

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. 'Harry.'

'Sorry.'

'I'm leaving the team after next season,' she said.

'What?' said Harry. 'Ginny, no. You love your job.'

'You don't,' said Ginny. 'You hate me playing pro Quidditch.'

Harry hemmed and hawed for about two seconds before remembering he was bonded to an Empath, and he couldn't possibly lie to her if he tried.

'Well, yeah,' he said, 'but you love it. That's what's important.'

'You're more important,' said Ginny.

'But--'

'I've already decided,' she said. 'And I've even got another job lined up. I've thought about this a lot.'

'A job?' said Harry. 'Not...Healing?'

'No,' said Ginny quickly. 'A job at Hogwarts, actually.' She grinned at him.

'You're joking,' said Harry, suddenly feeling elated again. Such was life with Ginny--an emotional rollercoaster. Highs and lows that could occasionally frighten him and leave him with an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. But life with her was never, ever dull, and that was as he liked it.

'Nope,' said Ginny, and she ruffled his hair. 'Madam Hooch is retiring next year and Professor McGonagall offered me the post of flying instructor slash Quidditch referee. It's perfect--I'll still be able to fly almost every day, I won't have to travel all over the place...'

'McGonagall didn't say anything to me about that,' said Harry.

'I wanted to surprise you,' said Ginny.

'I'm surprised,' said Harry. 'And...this is brilliant, Ginny. Or at least...well, is it brilliant? Are you sure that's what you want?'

She squeezed his hand in hers and gave him her answer without speaking.

'I'll get to see every day,' said Harry, smiling. 'Every single day.'

'You'll get sick of me,' said Ginny, putting her arms around his neck.

'Never,' said Harry. 'In fact, I'll be tempted to shag you over my desk now and again.'

'And the broomstick shed?' Ginny whispered.

'And the changing rooms,' said Harry. 'And the showers...'

'We'll get ourselves fired,' Ginny giggled.

'But at least we'll have had fun,' said Harry.

'When can I move in?' she asked.

'Tonight,' he said, grinning, and he picked her up and spun her around. She squeaked and giggled again before he set her down and kissed her.

'I love you,' he murmured, against her lips.

'I love you,' she said back. She wrapped herself more tightly around him, and they lost themselves in the slow beat of the music.

Harry opened his eyes and over his shoulder saw Ron and Hermione enjoying the last dance of their wedding. Hermione had abandoned her shoes and Ron had thrown off his dress robes. They both looked exhausted but deliriously happy.

Ron looked up and grinned at Harry, and Harry grinned back. His heart was as full as it had ever been. There would always be pains and regrets and loss, but on this night, there was a lot of joy, too. His two best friends in the world were married, and someday they'd have children and Harry would be a godfather, just as Sirius had been. Maybe, someday after that, Harry would be a father, too; he would make babies with Ginny.

For now, though, he was content to start a new journey with the girl--the woman--in his arms. A journey that would be full of challenges that they would meet together.

Harry smiled one last time at Ron and then turned his eyes upward, to the velvet-black sky that was strewn with stars. One star streaked across the horizon.

'Did you see that?' said Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'Make a wish,' she said.

Harry looked down at her, letting himself see his reflection in her eyes. He kissed her lips again, and then leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, squeezing her hand, holding her close and feeling the faint hum of their bond pass through them, back and forth. Her heartbeat blended with his.

'It already came true,' he whispered.

THE END

* * *

**A/N: It's over! I hope the ending wasn't too ridiculously sappy, and I hope it gave people some of the closure they were looking for.**

**My masochistic brain is already tingling with ideas for a third story in this universe, which is why I included a few references to Draco and my favorite nasty villain, Lucius, but...if it happens--and that's still a big IF--it won't be for a while. **

**Belated realization: In choosing a name for Ron's uncle I cast about for the first British-sounding name that popped into my head, and it was Gareth. It was only after I'd finished the epilogue that I realized where I'd gotten the inspiration from: Mynuet's brilliant outtake _Fruition_, from her brilliant story _The Plan_. **

**Oh yeah, those final lines of dialogue that Harry and Ginny have? Shamelessly stolen from one of my favorite movies of all time, _Sixteen Candles_, starring Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall and directed by John Hughes. (Why yes, I AM a child of the 80s!) **

**My unwavering thanks to all who have followed this story, to all who have reviewed, and especially to my betas, lina and Buckbeaky.**


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